I love that this (free!) pattern is easy to memorize - there's nothing complicated but it looks like more effort went into it, and it feels fancier and a bit more plush to wear. This was the same yarn I used for my Peace Project cowl - Swan's Island washable wool in a chipotle shade, which I purchased the last time I was on the west side.
I will certainly be making more Hermione socks. Especially since we stopped, finally, at Tolt in Carnation, Wash., where I picked up a beautiful sock yarn from La Bien Aimeé. I like to have a project I can be working on when I don't know what to work on next (this is the beauty of knitting socks, in case you didn't know).
Speaking of knitting and buying yarn, I've been thinking a lot on the subject of stash. My dear friend Sara sent me a book, A Stash of One's Own, a collection of essays by knitters and designers about this subject, which I've enjoyed reading each night before bed. I had never given my stash much thought before now - how I buy yarn, why I buy yarn, and how I feel about an abundance of it. Each essay considers these questions in very thoughtful ways, calling on nostalgia and comfort as much as actual projects as reasons to accumulate. This book made me realize how many knitters buy yarn with no project in mind. This has generally not been how I operate, mostly because yarn - good yarn, at least - is expensive. I try not to buy yarn unless I know the weight and yardage needed for a specific project. There have been times while traveling internationally when I've bought yarn just because I wanted the souvenir, only to come home and stress over what I would actually make with it. Which is why I now will generally buy sock yarn in these situations because I know how much I need and it's affordable.
All this to say, I'm not really a stasher. My stash, if you can call it that, is comprised of remnants from other projects, amounts that are useless for new projects. Except for projects like Stephen West's Garter Squish blanket, which I made last year for Margot, which is designed for using up these scraps. I don't think I could ever drop $50+ on yarn with no aim for what to do with it. If I make a sweater, I find exactly the yarn I want, buy it and start knitting before I lose steam. I take comfort in this because it means I'm probably not a hoarder, and I'm definitely frugal. But after reading about people who walk into yarn stores, fall in love with colors and textures and buy a bundle of skeins just to have them; the people who have cupboards and rooms filled with yarn; the people who set up events where they just give their yarn away... I've been enjoying imagining what that might feel like. But then I'm happy to return to my reality where yarn is strewn about my craft room, but it's all connected to a current project.
Next up in my knitting queue: this slouchy sweater, The Weekender. Hopefully ready to wear by this fall.
And of course, more socks.
And also, Christmas stockings.
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