Sky Magic

I love to knit because of the feel of fibre running through my hands.  No two ways about it, this is what drives me.  

Colour plays it's own little part in the game, but it is rare that the search for colour starts from something I see in a yarn.  

Last evening the sky had the prettiest colours.  Such a soft coral pink layered with the last of the days sky blue. As evening broached, the pink quietly disappeared and the sky turned the lovliest richest colour.

Not black, not blue, not really a colour at all.  Almost navy, but not.  Certainly not charcoal, not gray. No one thing at all, but many, alkl at once. I can tell you what it was not but I cannot tell you what it was.  

It was just wonderful though.  The colour of the sky right at the point between evening and night will sit, a stolen little memory, something special and magical outside the regular things of the day.  The memory will last long after that days sun has set.  

And I have the strongest urge to find it in yarn.  I think I saw it once.      I'm sure I will see it again.