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.
Look at this loveliness! Look at all the colours…
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:-
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:-
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.