My first knitting adventure in 2009
I'm in love. With a knitting project.
It started with a fun afternoon last fall while I was visiting my son and daughter-in-law in New York City. Angie and I went to the great yarn store Purl Soho where we tried not to drool on the swatches on the front table. We decided to try to find the softest yarn and pretty much touched everything in the store. We finally agreed that nothing was softer than the cashmere. We chose a skein and decided to make the cowl that was displayed with the swatches. A love affair was born.
The yarn is so light and soft and the pattern texture so delicate, I felt like I was knitting a cloud. Every stitch was delicious.
Then the romance hit a rocky moment just as I was finishing the last row. I held the cowl up to show it to some friends and my eye caught a mistake about a third from the top. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach!
My friends each had a thought about what I should do ranging from rip it back to leave it alone. Someone said it wasn't noticeable.
To test that theory, I showed it to my husband, who picked the mistake out instantly; and then to a knitting friend, who couldn't find it.
I had knitted so carefully, checking every row. How could this have happened?
This is not the mistake that you'll find in a Persian rug or an Amish quilt or a Navajo blanket which I believe are all sort of intentional and which remind us that only God is perfect.
This is an "I can't even figure out what I did wrong, but I know it's not right" kind of mistake; an "I thought everything was going well and now this!" kind of mistake.
I stewed about things for a couple of days. I'm worse at unknitting lace than at knitting it, so ripping it all back was a daunting thought.
I knew the weather in New York was cold and wanted Angie to have her little cloud of warm fluff as soon as possible, but I also wanted to have a finished product worthy of the yarn and pattern and the effort that I'd already made.
I finally decided to try to do a kind of faux fix, knowing that I could rip it all back if need be. Even that was tedious, but in the end I think I got an acceptable result.
A handmade cowl - not like the ones you can buy in the store. A humble illustration of the truth that only God is perfect. And that something can be perfectly lovable even if it has a flaw or two.