I am a knitter.
Though I've been knitting sporadically for the past eleven years, I hadn't considered myself a knitter until last spring. I visited our local yarn shop month after month, each time muttering "I'm not a knitter," as I walked through the store. When I filled my first customer punch card last spring (and did the math on my actual knitting budget) I finally embraced it. I am a knitter.
My needles have been busier than ever these past few months. This weekend I cast off Pete's Winter Solstice gift: fingerless fishing gloves. Fishing opener is just three days away and I still have the convertible flaps to complete in the next evening or two.
A more straight-forward project that I cast off last night was Sage's "camouflage" mittens. He's been begging for them all winter. They are as "camo" as I was inspired to make and made by double stranding a wonderfully soft green wool and a hand-dyed sock yarn.
Wool mittens in March? Better late then never. And now that the snow is
melting they are more appropriate than I thought they'd be. Sage has barely been inside the house the past two days. My self proclaimed "King Winter" boy is thoroughly enjoying this warm sunshine. He has a new business idea: purified water collected from the snow melt running off the roof. He's has our camping water filter busy and ever canning jar we own out in the yard.
He rushed in the house, drenched head to to from the snow melt with his (sopping wet) new mittens held high. "My hands are really warm!"