The great sock project of 2012  is moving along. Lessons have been learned. Progress has been made. I've tried three different patterns in two sizes. And I'm feeling more sock-confident in general. I've knit each pair for a specific child, keeping each kid fore in my mind as I knit. The socks are a love gift. And its satisfying to have them done. But what moves me on is the sheepiness and yum scrumdelecability of wool. Wool is reigniting my love of knitting. I used to be a cotton specific knitter. Just in time for global climate change, I've changed.

When I was first learning an older woman said, "You love that heavy gauge now. Your hands will teach you an appreciation for something lighter." I scoffed inwardly. Oh how I was, yet again, wrong. It only took me 9 years, but now I get her point. Wool, I love thee true and fair. Socks aren't my passion. Twining my hands through such earthiness, turning the excess of sheep into usefulness, admiring the craft of spinners, the depths of color and sheen they can produce--its all so good, restive and functional.