I don’t know what I want—maybe I want everything? I want color, and then I want gray. I make something vivid, and then something subdued. Sometimes, I guess I want both together, and this little scarf is the perfect marriage of tepid and vivacious. Okay, it isn’t little, it’s wonderfully, gorgeously, luxuriously huge.
Those two colors look so great together—they are Seafoam and Lemongrass, both Patons Classic Wool. I can’t get enough of that crazy citrine hue right now. By itself, it looks like a highlighter pen, but it pairs with neutral colors so well--beside that soft, grayed-out blue, it settles down and just shimmers. I adore it, what can I say. I think there is some Patons Classic Lemongrass in about fifty percent of my projects. The putty-colored yarn at the edging is Classic One Fifty in (probably) taupe; a straggler from the stash, one ball left over from who knows what. It was just the right foil for the zing of the stripes.
My project was inspired by this lovely thing, though I worked mine from the triangle point upward, working all the increases at the sides and then chose an edging from this book. It used just one ball of each, and so satisfying. Stripes. How I love them.
I didn’t notice the chicken photobomb until just this second. The minute anybody steps into the yard, she’s out the door, wanting to see what’s going on.
That hen is the yard supervisor. I step out the back door, and count three, two, one--thump as she hops off the roost, then out pokes her little head, craning around to see who’s coming and whether they have any treats. I go in the run with a scoop of cracked corn, and she eats from my hand, and kind of hunkers down for a cuddle, while all the other hens are flattened against the back wall of the coop, flapping around and freaking out. They don’t seem to notice the cold. Tough little birds. I notice the cold, dang. I can feel it whistling through all the cracks in this old house, and it totally makes me knit enormous scarves.