Awhile ago, when I was on the “back to real wool kick” bought a lot of beautifully colored, crispy wool yarn. As close to the sheep as you can get, I love it, I would never wear anything made out of it next to my skin , but my sensory kids loved this yarn, and to my surprise it became mittens. And thanks to the Mason-Dixon folks and the felting craze some of it is destined to become my bedside rug.
Then there were the acrylics. I will always be kind to them. They were the first yarns I have worked with. They have given me many happy hours and my family most of their favorite blankets.
Then there was the sock yarn that did not want too be tamed. It was hand dyed in a lovely blue and pink, had mohair in it but was smooth and shiny and it did not want to become a sock. I have swatched it with different needles , omitted the ribbing and let the yarn rest. I loved the yarn and did not want to give up on it. After my daughter #3 was born the yarn has become a very pretty Baby Surplice Jacket and a hat to match it.
Sometimes when I look at this set I still want it to be a pair of socks, but most of the time I am proud of it. What can I say, I grew up in Russia and my parents definitely did not expect me to become what I am – a Chassidic Jew. I hope they feel proud of me sometimes too.