High-res version

Maybe I spoke too soon about knitting seasonally a few posts ago. After a long hiatus, I picked up this sweater I began for myself before the baby was born. The yarn is nothing special, just a recycled cotton wool blend, and the finished product is destined for fall farm work (I think I can already see a few dog hairs in there). But my hands needed something to do in the precious few oddments of time I have while Addie naps when we’re out. It’s luxurious, having this small comfort of slow process that’s just for me. I can ease it out while I’m tired or preoccupied (did I mention she’s teething?) and still come up with something beautiful. 

Knitting works that way. I can put it down and pick it up with no break in the pattern, no worries that it’s ruined. Even without the funds or energy right now for finding fancy yarn, I still have time to make something stitch by stitch, minute by minute. My hands work on autopilot. My mind quiets. Come this fall, this sweater will be just what I’m looking for. 

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