Last year I made my daughter a pair of handwarmers from a ball of Noro Silk Garden I had hanging around in the Royal colourway. What I was doing with one ball of it I have no idea but it came in handy when my daughter needed something to keep her arthritic hands warm. She loved them but I didn’t. I’m not a fan of Silk Garden although I do like Shiro but that may be because of the high percentage (30%) of cashmere. Generally I find yarns that have a high percentage of silk in them hard to knit. Of course silk doesn’t have the elasticity of wool and my older hands don’t like that. And then there is just the general feel of Silk Garden I don’t like. But that’s just me. My daughter loves the stuff.
The handwarmers I knit her were just a generic recipe, nothing special, just a rib cuff, stocking stitch body and rib cast off. It’s a pattern that’s easy to do and needs no special or complicated calculations. Just knit the cuff until you think it’s long enough, decide what kind of thumb you want (I like the thumb gusset), knit the body until it looks long enough and then end in rib. For the thumb I pick up a few stitches and knit in rib for a bit and then cast off. A simple pattern because Noro doesn’t really need anything more than that to still look spectacular. I really do love the colours if not the yarn itself.
My daughter loved them and wore them for much of the late winter and then this fall. Unfortunately she lost them. She was riding her bike and had tossed them in her bag, threw it on her back and off she went. They stayed behind and she didn’t notice until she got home. When she went back to look for them, someone must have picked them up because they were gone. So now she wants another pair which means I have to go to the yarn store to get one ball of Noro Silk Garden in the Royal colourway.
Did I ever mention I have a problem with yarn? Yeah, I do. There’s something about yarn and me and money that gets all confused and when I’ve sorted it all out I find I have less money and more yarn than I started out with. I just don’t know how that happens. It’s like a spirit whispers in my ear, “Sheila…Sheila…buy the Handmaiden…you don’t need to eat this week…by that Yak yarn…food is over-rated…look at the cashmere…the cat can go hunt mice…” I’ve tried to hum so I don’t hear that little voice, so that I can get to the checkout with my one ball of yarn, but something happens and the next thing I know I’m in the car with a bagful of yarn and an empty bank account. I would say I need help but I’m afraid I’m living in the same world of denial that Rob Ford inhabits. That is, I am not an addict, I do not have a problem, and I don’t need help.
Now where I live we don’t have that many choices in yarn stores. There is a Michael’s close by but they don’t carry Noro and besides I have my own personal reasons for never shopping there again. The store that I go to the most is the Wool-Bin in Oakville. I go there because it is just down the street from my favourite grocery store, Organic Garage. This way I can just nip down there before I get my groceries and I don’t have to make a special trip. The problem with this is its appalling convenience. I think on the way over that I’ll just nip in to look around and see if any new yarn has come in or what they have on sale (they have terrific sales) and the next thing I know I’m sitting in the car inhaling lanolin. Fortunately I haven’t been there in a while because I haven’t had the money but I’m going to have to make a pilgrimage if I want that Noro.
I know, I know, I could just order it off the internet but there are some other things I want to look at while I’m there. I need to make some Christmas presents and, after going through my stash, I am surprisingly short on supplies. I mean I have a lot more yarn than I know what to do with but not a single ball that I want to make Christmas presents from. I know I should just bite the bullet and knit from stash anyway considering my financial situation, or lack thereof, but the thought of holding a fresh new skein that hasn’t been sitting in a bin for months and hasn’t been mauled to death holds the same attraction for me as an unfilled crossword puzzle. Just think of the possibilities!
Yarn and I have this long history of a love/love relationship. I love yarn. Love it, love it, love it. It’s like books. Before you crack the cover, even if you’ve read it before, there are still endless possibilities contained therein. Because you are reading it on a different day, with a different view of the world, the story changes. And the same goes for yarn. Just because I’ve knit hundreds of pairs of socks with Patons Kroy doesn’t mean that this pair are going to be exactly the same as the last. Different day, different time, different perspective. When you look at the cover of the book it’s a mystery what you will learn, or how your life might change and the same when you hold a ball of yarn. The mysteries contained in that length of sheep’s wool are endless…exciting…mind-boggling. And I love it.
So when I go into a yarn store, it’s not just a yarn store, it’s a library of wool. There are many, many stories to be told by that yarn, many mysteries that need unlocking with the simple click of two pointy sticks. And after the yarn is made into an object, its story doesn’t end there because there are the stories that will be made with the person who wears it. History’s to be written by the wearer, memories to be made and remembered each time it is brought out. A sweater isn’t just a sweater, it is a person’s diary, a memoir, a book whose pages are rewritten with each wearing but are never forgotten.
For some people my daughter just lost a pair of handwarmers and I will replace them. But for her she lost a bit of her history, the memories of what she was doing when she wore them. Who she was with, where they went, the fun they had. They kept her hands warm while she and her friends biked around the city, or played kick ball in the park, or went to a bar and listened to some good music. Sure she still has those memories in her mind but after a few years they will fade and slowly be replaced by new memories. The handwarmers would have been a constant reminder of those times whether it was a conscious thought or not. She just may have smiled when she put them on not even aware of the thought of fun times long past. So now with a new pair of handwarmers it’s up to her to write some new pages in her history. And perhaps I should attach a string to them so she doesn’t lose them this time.