I think it's why I vowed that I wasn't going to knit or try to knit ever again, if I couldn't understand. My decreases did not do what the pattern showed. My sweaters did not look like the pictures. It sounds rather silly when I write it out now, after I understand it all, but it broke my heart.
Since I have come to understand the differences, between my style of knitting and pattern writers, knitting has indeed taken up a good lot of my time and everything about it is utterly compelling. It is beyond need. It is as air and water.
In the few weeks since my first colourwork mittens, funny as it seems, I had forgotten what colourwork felt like. Not forgotten perhaps, but until you have it in your hands again, till you are playing its particular music, the memory of its rhythm, its song is just an echo across a misty valley.
But oh, when you have it in your hands, what symphonies you can play. Its sings as it moves along your needles, as the threads wrap through your fingers.
I love these brilliant tones set off against the depth of the black. I love the feeling of light they put into the dark. It would be a little much for me to wear but for a bag, it's perfect.
Mr. Needles knows the next project will be his vest, and he wandered into the kitchen last night while I was knitting and looked a bit worried for a minute. I assured him that the colours for his vest are much softer, more earthy and muted than this bag. AT the top you can see one of the patterns I think I will use. Trees, punctuated by peerie patterns and each band shaded to suit the man and his passions.
I'm learning some vitally important things on this practise work. Know the patterns before you start to knit, understand how the design is going to flow where the edges meet. Graph it out and colour it up. Then decide how many stitches you need to cast on.
Ask me how I know. Its a good thing the practise project is only a bag.