Monday, October 10, 2005


I don't wish to be crude; I don't like to use "bad language" (how can language be bad? It's just words, right?) but, and I think this is a big but, it came to the point where I needed to wind the very last skein of "lace-weight" wool for the Rosy Fingered Dawn. I extracted it from its bag and I put it on the swift, I started to wind and I found a knot. Once again, this knot was in only one of the two plies. As you know, a machine might spin the yarn, but it doesn't stop in the middle and tie a knot in one of the plies, does it? Well, it doesn't. (Just so you know.) OK. These things happen.

* Cut yarn. Start a new ball. Repeat from * until you are thoroughly ticked off. This is what I ended up with:

One ounce of wool, 6 (six) balls of yarn.

Don't get me started.

I've done more repeats of the never-ending border. I've also done a bit of frogging because I really can't be bothered to write down every single row I knit, so I keep getting lost.

I've done a bit more of Mystery2 (which, let me tell you, is a heck of a lot better than Mystery1) and this is the result:

Yes, I know, it doesn't look like much. Welcome to the world of the lace knitter. Everything looks like a crumpled (and used ) handkerchief until it's off the needles and blocked and then the true glory is revealed.

And just because I was feeling as low as a girl could feel, I went into the garden and took a few pictures. My garden is not a "loved-up" garden. I think things grow there in spite of me and not because of me. There was this though:


Not much more to say, really.

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