Monthly Archives: January 2015

Giraffe In A Scarf

You may not have realized it, but what your Saturday night really needs more than anything is a giraffe in a scarf. Actually, a giraffe in two scarves.

giraffe in a scarf

giraffe in a scarf

I know, I know, never photograph by artificial light. So sue me. Actually, please don’t. This snap won’t win any photographic awards, but it does show off the scarves I crocheted for the Toddler Twinnage. They’re loosely based on this pattern, which I confess that I chose for its simplicity and speed. Yes, I should’ve lovingly knitted intricate stranded colourwork in baby cashmerino for my precious darlings, but they’re toddlers for heaven’s sake – these scarves are going to take a lot of abuse, and I don’t fancy the blood pressure implications of watching cashmerino fairisle being doused in mud and wound round a tree, OK? The colourful yarn is Vanna’s Choice, and the grey is some of the remaining Hayfield Bonus Aran Tweed from my knit-and-crochet bag design. The Toddler Twinnage love ’em, which is why I haven’t been able to photograph them until after dark.

And boy does the Toddler Twinnage need scarves in this cold! Whilst I steadfastly maintain my position of active sulking regarding the non-appearance of proper snow, we did at last have a little flurry whilst I was sitting in ward-round at the hospital where I work. Just to make sure that I looked like a complete idiot in the car park that evening, I scraped up a handful from the roof of my car and sat in the driver’s seat photographing it, just to prove that I have touched snow once within the space of two years. (Yes, citizens of the Arctic, feel free to laugh at me.) hib snow 1 Meanwhile, in order to defeat the cold of our ice-has-been-seen-on-the-inside-of-the-windows home, the Stoic Spouse has been aggressively cooking from a book of sauces so extreme that each one takes a full two days to prepare. Here he is, studying the book, part-way through his sauce-marathon:-



My solution to the cold is somewhat simpler:- hib fire 1 Finally, I should mention the Yarnstories hat and gloves. They’re done! But I need some daylight to do them justice in a photograph, OK? Stay warm, people.


Filed under Crochet

Colour For A Winter’s Day

Well thank you for your lovely comments on the Yarn’s first problem page. If I can make you smile/guffaw/spew coffee uncontrollably through your nose all over the cat, then my work here is done. Would you like a tissue?

Meanwhile, back to the knitting. I was hoping to ta-da (yes that is a verb – as of right now: one of my friends works in new words at the Oxford English Dictionary, so I have unlimited power of neologisms via her) my Yarnstories hat and mitts today, but I haven’t quite finished the hat. Still, given the sub-arctic conditions in our house, the mitts have come in pretty – and you’ll pardon the pun – handy whilst I work on the hat.

No I don't really hold my needles like this, but it's tricky to photograph yourself knitting, I discover... Oh, and don't look closely at the gloves because they haven't been blocked yet.

No I don’t really hold my needles like this, but it’s tricky to photograph yourself knitting, I discover… Oh, and don’t look closely at the gloves because they haven’t been blocked yet.

Do you knit cables? It’s been a while since I cabled anything, and I’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to use that wonky little needle (the blue one in the picture above) to create a lay-by where some of your stitches idle whilst others overtake. That’s all cables are, really: laybys (Is that a word outside the UK?) and overtaking. Anyway, my stitches have almost raced and swerved their way to the very top of my hat: photos and yarn review to follow, pronto.

Wouldn’t it be fun to create a sort of random, anarchic cabled design where pairs of stitches speed, swerve, and overtake each other almost at random? Designs are forming in my twisted mind… I see monochrome patterns of cabled lawlessness, knotting their way across the left-hand side of a large knitted panel, whilst the right-hand side of the panel is plain stockinette. Damn, why are there not more knitting hours in the day? (And night?) One day soon, I will make this panel…

<At this point, there is a pause in this blog post. Feel free to go and grab yourself a biscuit.>

After several minutes of inactivity, pencil poised idle above my paper (yes, I draft all my posts on paper before typing them up, because keyboards and screens kill my creativity and bonkersness stone dead), I realized that I really couldn’t think of a good way to link in to the second half of this post. So instead, here’s a clumsy and abrupt change of subject. People, friends, it’s late January, and if you’re in the northern hemisphere, you’ll be in dire need of colour, I fear? For it’s a grey old world out there right now. (Southern hemisphere peeps, imagine it’s July.) So here is some of the colour that’s been brightening our days, here at the brewery. First, there are tulips from Selma at EclecticHomeAndLife. I love flippy-floppy-flappy tulips.

Making lists in the blank pages of my Dan Bennett diary:-

Sunset whilst visiting friends and their newborn in west Oxfordshire:-

And deep purple blueberries in fresh-baked muffins.

I hope that something in this post has made you smile. ‘Til next time, m’dears…


Filed under Knitting

The Problem Page: Knotty Problems

And now for something completely different.

Or, translated into ‘Yarn-speak… Fear ye not, my fine furry friends, for there are wonders of much newness to be witnessed here on the Yarn, today.

Whilst I’ve been knitting snuggly mitts with the Yarnstories yarn (exhibit A below – proper ‘ta-da’ post coming soon)….

Fortunately our house is plenty cold enough for the wearing of mittens indoors.

Fortunately our house is plenty cold enough for the wearing of mittens indoors.

…I’ve also been quietly preparing a new feature for this site, that will be making an appearance from time to time in amongst the usual knitty, crochety, outdoorsy shenanigans. And that feature is a…


Yup good people, please permit me to introduce the column henceforth to be known as KNOTTY PROBLEMS. Understand-ye that this is not a normal problem page, nor a source of technical know-how. No, it is to be something far more useful: a page specifically for the angst that occurs when knitting/crochet meets the real world.

So having thrown open our letterbox to suffering knitting correspondents across the globe, we were deluged, I tell you, with your worries and dilemmas. Poor Colin-The-Postie worked up a proper hernia from heaving sacks of mail up the hill to our house, and our little letterbox developed repetitive strain injury and has gone off sick.


Fortunately we received this gem before the letterbox gave up completely, so I can now present you with our first KNOTTY PROBLEM.

Lola from London writes:  “Dear TheTwistedYarn, I knitted a beautiful fairisle jumper for my hubby. It took ages, and I was soooo proud of the finished result!!!! Hubby says that although he likes it, it’s too small, so he can’t wear it. Help!!!!”

THETWISTEDYARN REPLIES: I hear ya, sista, but fret-ye-not, and take those superfluous multiple exclamation marks away because they’re giving me a headache. You, m’dear, are in the very fortunate position of having options. Multiple options. This, like many problems, is merely a matter of perception. So, you could regard your jumper as too small – which is tricky to fix – or your husband as too large. Instantly, a  whole range of new possibilities opens up.

Did your dear husband (please, do desist from calling him ‘hubby’ – it’s too twee) perhaps partake excessively of the Yuletide pudding? If so, you’ve nowt to worry about, because he now has a moral obligation to shrink. You see, by agreeing to be measured up for knitwear, he is effectively entering into a legally(ish)-binding contract to remain exactly the same size until you’ve finished knitting the thing, even if it takes you three years to finish (because let’s face it, fairisle can be fiddly). I’m no lawyer, but I’m almost certain of my facts here.

Your second – and much quicker – option is to divorce his bulging girth and find a new husband of the exact proportions of your exquisite jumper. Come with me, let’s look out of the window a moment at the street below. Look! What do you see? People, yes? Lots and lots of people of every imaginable size and shape. Someone out there will be the perfect size to wear your lovely jumper, even if you did – and you’ll forgive me for pointing this out – knit one sleeve longer than the other.

It’s like Cinderella, innit? Instead of a glass slipper, your task is to find the man who will fit this jumper: the man with a 34-inch chest and one arm longer than the other. That man is out there somewhere, and he is your soulmate. The yarn has spoken, and one must always heed the yarn.

Simple, no? Do let us know how you get on.


Filed under Knitting

To The Pub

Evening all. Come sit awhile. You’re very welcome here… unless you have cheese: I have a weird phobia of cheese. Please, people, take your cheese away. No, take it further away than that.

We’ve been staying home and shivering quite a bit, the Toddler Twinnage and I, and comforting ourselves with easy bakes such as these apple and sultana muffins (recipe here). Would you like one?

pib muffin1

And by mid-afternoon it’s so chilly that I go to the safe, deep in the oldest part of our brewery home…

Pib safe

…and I pull open the heavy door to see… this!

Pib safer

Firelighters and matches – out of the reach of the Toddler Twinnage. Because it feels like time to light a log fire and plonk the children in front of the marble run kindly leant to us by the lovely Selma from EclecticHome&Life. (By the way, her home is every bit as beautiful and stylish as you’d imagine it to be from her blog.) The Toddler Twinnage adore the marble run, and much giggling ensues. So do I.

Pib marble1

Of course, I can’t blog at the moment without giving the arctic qiviut a leeeetle bit of air-time, because it ain’t often that the tummy-fluff of the musk ox plops into my life, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever be so fortunate again. I’ve hit the lacy bit of the heavenly cowl I’m making, look!

pib qiviut1

There’s been knitting and crochet (and wine) at our local pub, too, after a reader of this blog worked out from my description of the postman’s personality that we actually live in the same village! And now, she and I are starting a knitting/crochet group at the pub. Look at the nickname of one of our local Oxfordshire ales! (Actually nothing to do with crochet – just a shortening of the name of the town where the beer is made.) You have no idea how embarrassing it was when the landlady caught me photographing her bar.

pib hooky1

Anyway, there were just the two of us at our starter-meeting this week, but we have ambitions for our little group. And we spent a happy evening chatting about knitting and crochet without anyone grumping Will-you-shut-up-about-the-yarn-already? I watched as a delicate amigurumi cat began to take perfect shape across the table from me. (‘A’ is better at crochet than I am.) And I worked cables in my Yarnstories wool – badly, because it’s tricky to cable and converse successfully. After a while, we realized that the people at the next table were talking about knitting, too. Rather a successful evening. And at least the pub is warm.


Filed under Knitting

As It Is In Yarn, So It Is In Life

And unexpectedly, there are knots.

Knots in my cheapo practise yarn. Pah! I just shrug and hack those out. Knots in my beautiful green Fyberspates wool: I’m postponing tackling those, and have left the messy bundle on the kitchen table hoping that it’ll feel guilty enough to untangle itself. And – gasps – a knot in the precious arctic qiviut! <Clutches palm to brow and faints, melodramatically.>

Knots aren’t usually a problem around here, so clearly the yarn is trying to communicate something. I’ve been trying to work out what it’s saying*. January being a good month for taking stock and forming plans, I’ve been starting to think that there are some knots in my life too, some of which need aggressive attention with scissors, others of which may be safely postponed for now. This will inevitably be a year of change, because the Toddler Twinnage start school in September, and in addition to my two days a week working as a clinical psychologist, I’m going to need to do something more productive/lucrative than missing my kids for the other three days. And you know what? I think it’s going to involve yarn, and writing about yarn. Anyway, nobody’s hiring psychologists round here at the moment.

Anyway, let’s move on to important things: arctic qiviut. I’ve shown you a little yarn porn before, but would you like to see some more, now I’m knitting this beauty up into a cowl? I’ve blogged before about its lusciousness, but I should also tell you that it is only in my possession due to the extreme generosity of my father-in-law, the Gregarious Grandfather. GG, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And if it weren’t for the fact that you’re the sort of person who could comfortably amble round the arctic in a t-shirt, I’d knit you something with this wonderful yarn as a gift.

First, I wound the soft and luscious skein into a ball.

Ab 4

Look at this loveliness! Look at all the colours…

Ab 5

And I started knitting a cowl, the Smokering. After The Problem Of The Knot, I hand-wound the qiviut into a little ball and used a brass witch’s cauldron as a yarn bowl (as yer do). I’d never previously seen much need for a yarn bowl, but now I’m converted. All is running smoothly as I move on from the stockinette to work the rounds of lace:-

Ab 2

Want to know how it feels? Ahhhhh… It wasn’t much to begin with, but once you begin handling/knitting the tummy-fluff of the musk ox, it begins to feel softer and softer and softer. It’s light as a feather and can squash down to nothing, yet is silken-soft and strong. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve heard rumours of the musk ox’s grumpiness, and the occasional deaths of ox-herders, I’d tell you to go stroke the tummy of your nearest musk ox right now. But I’d hate to be responsible for anyone’s premature demise. Seriously, though, it’s allegedly eight times warmer than wool, so a thin lacy cowl should gently do the work of several scarves.

Meanwhile I’m also knitting and stroking the Yarn Stories yarn: a proper post on this shall follow. And in the background, the Stoic Spouse strums his guitar:-

Ab 3

All is, it seems, well.

* Actually I realized that there was a small and fixable problem with my ball-winder which was making balls of yarn vulnerable to unravelling, but let’s not permit the facts to get in the way of a good, er, yarn.


Filed under Knitting

Why I’m No Longer On Speaking Terms With Winter

So anyway, I said to the weather gods, “You’re not having me on again this time, are you? It’s absolutely definitely going to snow in Oxfordshire on Tuesday night?” And they said – through the medium of their high priests the weather forecasters – “Yup, you better believe it, Twisted.” And I said, “Because you know, I haven’t glimpsed snow in two long years and I’m getting twitchy.” And they said, “Well you will tonight. Heaps of the stuff. Enough for a really joyful, photo-heavy blog post.” So I said, in a voice laden with bitterness and pain, “Yeah, but we’ve been here before, haven’t we? All. My. Life. You promise snow overnight. This time I really believe you. I wake up the next morning, crazy with excitement, fling open the curtains and see… grey drizzle falling on green grass. Y’know, I’m not sure I can take that level of disappointment again.” At this, the weather gods mumbled something incomprehensible and looked shifty.

But you’ve got to give people and minor deities the benefit of the doubt, haven’t you?

So I went to bed, secure in the knowledge that this time, there really, really, really would be snow. I even told the Toddler Twinnage and got them all excited. And yesterday morning, I crawled, shivering leapt from my bed, flung open the curtains, and saw…

I think you can probably guess what I saw.

I am no longer on speaking terms with the weather gods.

So that was it. I was done with winter and I was done with snow. Time to head out and look for signs that spring is somewhere round the corner. The poor Toddler Twinnage were bundled out of the door and off for a walk, grizzling all the way because what they really wanted was to stay home and throw Lego bricks at my head. But no, I insisted, We Are Going For A Walk. I think my children know when I am Speaking In Capital Letters, and their grizzles become resigned rather than outraged.

Walking is slow when two thirds of your party have to stop every couple of metres to dig little holes in the ground with a stick (and the other third is furiously sulking with the weather gods and muttering to herself). We strolled through the woods:-


And glimpsed the merest hints of spring-like bulb-related activity:-


And tiny buds hinting imminent growth amidst last autumn’s berries:-


There were catkins, too! Catkins are the sort of thing that primary school children draw pictures of for their projects and write uneven sentences about, and I think I still, at the age of 42, have a tiny bit of catkin-love left to give:-


We also met some chaps. First, there was this chap:-


…And then there was that chap:-


And thus, we reached the important conclusions that:-

(i) Spring might be just around the corner. You heard it here at the ‘Yarn first, folks. Always first for news and seasonal grumbling.

And (ii) Mummmmmeeeeeeeeeee, I’m hungreeeeeeeeee and I wanna go hoooooooooommmmmmmmme nowwwwwww.

Hmmm, I think this is the least knitting/crochet-related post I’ve ever written. I hope you don’t mind, just this once?


Filed under Outdoors

Colin-The-Postie Delivers The Goods. Eventually.

People, please: permit me to introduce our postman. Tall, anxious chap, goes by the name of Colin, wears a broad-brimmed hat to keep the rain off, and is so kind-natured that I overlook his tendency to remark, “And another parcel for Twisted?” whenever he arrives at our door.

Anyway, the thing about Colin is that he’s talkative. Which is fine, normally. But this morning when I answered the door to him (no mean feat: the door in question has swollen so much in the damp that it takes the strength of ten adults to wrench the blimmin’ thing open: I may yet have to go to work by escaping through a window), I was 90% sure that I knew what was inside the parcel he was clutching, and I was also 90% sure he wasn’t going to hand over said parcel until we’d conducted a thorough verbal analysis of the weather. To be fair, the weather was pretty crazy at that point. Gales and driving rain, with a worrying possibility of bits blowing off the house and landing on Colin’s head. But, still. The parcel. Oh, the parcel.

I’m getting to the point of this story, I really am, but you need to appreciate the sheer angst of this moment. Because unless I was very much mistaken, inside that parcel was a generous sample of the finest merino blended with some baby alpaca. This was no ordinary delivery.

Here’s the formal bit where I stop being silly for just a moment. I need to tell you that I did not pay for this yarn. The yarn – assuming that was what was in the oh-so-near yet oh-so-unobtainable parcel – was offered to me for free by the good people at Yarn Stories. There was no condition that I post about it, but I’m posting anyway. But you do need to know: my fickle head might have been turned by the free-ness of this product. So do read the remainder of this post with an appropriate degree of ruthless cynicism.

I did eventually manage to prise the parcel from Colin’s rain-sodden hands. Poor Colin: he doesn’t have an easy job. And it did contain the yarn. Would you like to see? Do remember that I am but a witless victim of a zero-cost promotion, and so nothing I say is of any merit whatsoever.

First, I saw this. I’ve had worse views:-


And then I saw this richness. Let me hear you say, ‘Ahhhhhhhh’.


The yarn in question is an aran-weight sample of purple loveliness, comprising 70% merino wool and 30% baby alpaca, so I just had to get the camera out:-




Now I should tell you that this Yorkshire-milled yarn is soft. Firm enough to be a pleasure to knit, but soft. For comparison, I’ve recently been knitting with a perfectly acceptable wool-alpaca combination in the form of Bergère de France Lima. But there’s no comparison between that slightly itchy budget yarn and the gentle softness of this Yarn Stories product. Seriously. This yarn is like a gentle hug. The colour is deep and rich. Those folks at Yarn Stories clearly know how to twist me round their little finger, and I’ll be a complete sucker when they turn up tomorrow asking to borrow my meagre life’s savings.

Amongst the many goodies in the parcel was a pattern for knitting matching cabled hat and mitts. Obviously, I had no justification whatsoever for casting on yet another project, so obviously what I did was to cast on another project immediately. But you’re a knitter/crocheter, so I know you’ll understand, yes?

In a mood of exceptional well-behavedness, I even swatched. Look!


Tomorrow, I begin to knit the real hat and mitts.  Life has been known to be worse. 🙂

(Please know-ye, the arctic qiviut is still very much active in the background. Hugely luxurious posts are to come…)


Filed under Knitting

K1, k1, k1, (sip 1), k1, k1, (pause for imposition of real life), k1, k1, (berate toddler twinnage), k1…

…And meanwhile, far in the background, (so very far that it looks a little hazy), the Arne and Carlos blanket swells, garter stitch by easy garter stitch. I just thought I’d give it a teeny bit of blog-space again. ‘Tis my mindless go-to project at 3am when work stress pokes my brain awake, or a twin or two tries to pull my nose off, or some Lego intrudes painfully on my lower vertebrae. I’m disappointed that the blanket isn’t finished yet, because I had visions of the twinnage and I snuggling under it this winter in our ludicrously chilly house, but this enormous piece of blanketry is about 3/4 done: look!

Yes, that's a smidgeon of twinnage in the background.

Yes, that’s a smidgeon of twinnage in the background.

It’s a good project to knit on a cold winter’s day, because you can simultaneously snuggle under it and knit the blighter. And the design is such a simple, clever inspiration of loveliness from the talented Scandinavian duo. Anyway, in my humble opinion, everyone needs a mindless background comfort-project, if only as a little breather from lace-knitting a representation of the rose window of Notre Dame on 1mm needles.

The Toddler Twinnage and I have been alternating between huddling in front of the fire and venturing out to see fields in winter plumage, striped by shadows of the windbreak poplars:-

field 1a

…with sheep galloping weirdly towards us….


…and horses just visible through the mist…


…Sometimes, the poplar windbreaks filter evening sun quite fetchingly across the fields:-


….and sometimes, we brave the cold to wander amongst the scant remaining cherry orchards round here:-


…despite the fact that the chill visible on neighbouring rooftops doesn’t always make us want to venture outside:-


…But hey-ho, Oxfordshire does crisp winter mornings quite fetchingly, I’ve always thought, like this:-


Stay warm, people.


Filed under Knitting

Pimp My Jeans

I had so much fun crocheting over the hole in my jeans that I decided to have a go at the other leg, too. This newfound passion may yet get out of hand. I was imagining a sort of floral vine growing round and round and round the middle part of my leg. So this isn’t a design that would work for mending holes; it’s more for embellishing otherwise healthy jeans.

Out came the DMC Natura Cotton again, and a 2.5mm crochet hook and a tapestry needle. And a smallish slice of Christmas cake. Also some toy cars with which to distract the Toddler Twinnage. So having sketched a rough design on paper, I drew the line of the stem onto the fabric in pen. Have you any idea how naughty it felt to be doodling on my clothes? I half expected my mum to pop up and ground me for a week, even though she lives 100 miles away and hasn’t funded my wardrobe for a couple of decades. She probably will, once she reads this blog post: it’ll be the first time someone’s been grounded by email.

Anyway having drawn the stem, I used the needle to chain stitch its length, round and round (and round) the leg.

flowerz 6a

…until the basic stem was done:-

flowerz 5a

Now I needed some leaves and maybe a couple of buds with which to embellish the stem. After a bit of experimentation I came up with a design for the buds. (I’ll put details of how to do it at the end of this post.) Here, look!

flowerz 4a

And I used my own pattern for the leaves, reducing the number of stitches slightly, so that these leaves were roundish rather than longish.

flowerz 3a

So then it was just a matter of sewing on the leaves and buds, and then – once again – facing the enormous challenge of how to photograph my own knee:-

flowerz 1a

And here are both knees together, united in their hooky craziness:-

flowerz 2a

Pretty, no?

And before I get to the pattern for the buds, let me show you something even more pretty, made by my mum, Mother Twisted, for her neighbour. I showed you her patchwork-in-progress a while ago, and by Christmas it was finished! Wa-hey! She sent me some photos. Look, here’s one side:-

cushion 4

And here’s the other. The design is a traditional arrangement known as barnraising, aptly chosen because the Twisted Seniors and their neighbours live in converted old barns.

Barnraising log cabin loveliness

Barnraising log cabin loveliness

Very pretty, no?

And finally, here’s the pattern for the crocheted bud above. ***US CROCHET TERMS USED THROUGHOUT.***

  • Using your flower colour, ch4. Slip stitch into the first ch to make a ring.
  • Into the ring, work the following stitches: sc, hdc, 2dc, tr, 2dc, hdc, sc.
  • Just before the last pull-through, change to green and pull through before continuing to work seven dc.
  • Slip stitch to join to first sc then cut the yarn.

Here’s a diagram:-

bud 1a

Enjoy! And please don’t blame me if your mum grounds you for drawing on your clothes.


Filed under Crochet

The Musk Ox Is A-Comin’

Happy new year!

May 2015 bring you creative inspiration, manageable hair, unexpected deliveries of the finest yarn, and a bucketload of cake.

Speaking of fine yarn, I whispered the words arctic qiviut at the end of my last post. Whaddya mean, you didn’t notice? Do pay attention, people! Well I’m going to say it just a little louder, now, because the musk ox is a-comin’ to this blog, and he’ll be here soon. Look! One hundred per cent pure arctic qiviut, a once-in-a-lifetime knitter’s dream of a bundle of purple fluffiness:-

Let me hear you sigh, 'Ahhhhhhhhhh'.

Let me hear you sigh, ‘Ahhhhhhhhhh’.

More soon, but you don’t rush matters with arctic qiviut, do you? You need to spend a bit of time with it, get acquainted with its foibles. The musk ox is not to be trifled with. Really, this feels a little like dating, except that I have absolutely no intention of calling things off with this beauty. Would you be perturbed if I confessed that I’ve been known to sleep* with it beside the bed, then carry it carefully downstairs in the morning to watch it in different qualities of light, touch it in different moods, and generally figure out what will make these 29 grams of pure heaven happy? Maybe this relationship is a little unbalanced…

*I use the word ‘sleep’ loosely, since the Toddler Twinnage have ensured that it’s several years since I had a decent night’s kip.

But the proper qiviut posts are yet to come. Meanwhile, I’ve been knitting some Stylecraft Special DK and Bergère de France Lima into a doll for a friend’s daughter. (The pattern is from Deramores, so I can’t take any credit.) I started out with a muddle of body parts over Christmas, which took ages to sew together:-

All the body parts

All the body parts

Anyway, she’s finished, and here she is cuddling a wooden lion:-


And she even consented to pose with the Toddler Twinnage, bless her:-


Anyway, enough for now. I have a NYE hangover to nurse. Oops.

May 2015 bring you much time to knit and crochet. 🙂


Filed under Knitting