In carrying with the theme of my last post, where I talked about knitting with more intention, I am making a resolution for myself to start knitting with a bit more thought. I want to start taking more time, and using what I already have.
Recently packing to move house, I was reminded of how much yarn I have that I’ve been intending for specific projects which I haven’t gotten around to starting. Having said this, I’m not a huge yarn hoarder. I watch occasional podcasts on YouTube where people sit in front of massive walls of yarn of what must be hundreds and hundreds of untouched skeins and talk about how they bought more yarn on the weekend. I also recently found an article featuring this woman and her stash:
My stash is small, and fits comfortably onto two shelves. I have about 6 sweaters’ worth of yarn dedicated to patterns that I’ve never started, and some odds and ends and smaller lots for littler projects. It’s not that I feel like I have too much, it’s more the fact that I never use the yarn I love because I’m too busy jumping to the next project and not spending time planning and enjoying the whole process of what I have. I will impulsively decide that I need to knit something, and quickly buy the yarn to do that, meaning that nice stuff that I bought on holiday or carefully chose and set aside until I had time, never gets used. Buying yarn should be for both pleasure and purpose, and yet a lot of my yarn gets and gives neither.
So I made myself two goals for the upcoming year: Use what you have, and knit thoughtfully.
This means that I will take the time to look for patterns, test out designs, and accept that if it takes a week to start a new project because I spent time looking hard for a pattern and doing lots of swatches, then that’s ok.
This also means that I’m not going to go out and buy yarn this year. I’m going to appreciate what i have and be resourceful. I’m going to give what I have some credit.
(Disclaimer! I’ll make exceptions for yarn for gifts: I don’t have any more toddler-appropriate yarn in my stash and I’m not going to go a whole year without knitting gifts for my niece and nephew, and also I really want to knit my dad a pullover this year using Scottish wool.)
I started small:
I was desperate for a cozy new pair of slippers, specifically a pair of knitted mukluks. Many years ago I knit a fab pair of cabled mukluks in cream coloured yarn with dark leather soles. I felt like a polar bear every time I wore them, and then I lost them in a move.
So I thought I would do the Cadeautje pattern by Ysolda without the thrums and instead sew on some thick felt for the soles. I had some purple West Yorkshire Spinners yarn leftover from a sweater and I started the project while on a day trip to the coast, knitting while watching the sun set over the Isle of Arran, sheltering from the wind against the walls of the Portencross Castle.
It was kind of wonderful, and very good for the soul.
And then I realised that I didn’t have enough yarn for the second slipper. So I decided to have a little think. The first slipper that I was now pulling out and returning to the stash pile wasn’t a waste of time. It was still time well spent relaxing, reflecting, enjoying the process, and in the case of some of the knitting time, experiencing the winter seaside and fresh sea air. Yes I wanted a new pair of slippers, but what I really wanted was to knit myself something comforting and special. A little piece of self care during what has been a difficult few months.
So I pulled this ball of yarn out of my stash,
And decided to make something special. This yarn was in my mother’s stash for I don’t know how long. It’s pure Canadian wool from the Madawaska Highlands, the special place on the threshold of the Canadian Shield where spent my summers growing up.
I don’t know why or when they were producing yarn there, but at some point they did, and my mum bought a skein. I’d been saving this yarn for something special and so I cast on a new pair of slippers.
It was a good decision. Knitting with this yarn made me feel like I was celebrating the piece of home that I left behind when I became an ex-pat in the UK. It reminded me of the bedrock and the pine trees and the smell of lake water. I felt grounded while I knit and remembered these special things. I should also say that I ended up thrumming the slippers with pencil roving and abandoning the sewn felt sole. I figured that if I was going to knit with Canadian yarn then I should go all the way and do the thrumming. Thrumming, after all, is a Canadian thing, and I still wear the thrummed mittens that my mother knit for me.
The end result:
I feel grounded every time I put them on. Which is every day when I get up and every time I come home.
There was a time when knitting a pair of slippers would be a quick, impatient “my feet are cold and I want to wear these” affair. I must prefer this approach.