Knitting Makes Me Loopy

My animalistic tendencies towards knitting can be problematic.

Apparently, it’s not something I can help, so a knit mountain has appeared in my life, and like all good mountains, there are beautiful parts and there are rough, not-very-appealing parts. I’m a bit fed up of the not-very-appealing projects in my knit mountain, but am too sentimentally attached to get rid.

Inventing stuff has always been my way (mum’s influence) but it’s time to pair back on the hit-and-miss riskiness of this approach. I’m attempting a steady new path.

I have had success inventing things. It’s not all been homeknit weirdness. My most favourite invention was a lovely fitted, hip length, roll neck jumper in DK with flared sleeves and a seamless pouch pocket on the front, but why do moths always feast on the most front and centre patch which would make the ugliest repair however brilliant your mending skills are? I want to try this one again, but in a different colour. I didn’t really like the yarn I chose before.

So here I am looking at my knit mountain, trying to make some bold choices. In the spirit of not wasting stuff, can I repurpose the rough parts? Hats? Cushion covers? Blankets? Unravel and go again? The random invention has to stop, for now, so I’ve decided to learn pattern language. A good pattern is my trusty trek leader.

Working from patterns is new to me, and quite the discipline to make garments as they are intended, no riffing! With each new pattern I’m improving my sense of what’s possible, so when it comes to inventing again I trust I’ll be on a more reliable path.

But it must be said: for all those hours of comfort, softness, rhythmic looping, mindful therapy and obsessively knitting myself into a winter cocoon, I do have a lot of love for my funny old knit mountain.