Good evening, all. This night’s knitting began with me losing a 10.5 circular needle in a 100-square-foot room, so prepare yourselves. This may be a rambling post.
I haven’t talked too much about the weather this year. Spring has, by and large, been lovely. After a mild winter, spring was surprisingly, deliciously cool. Bunches of red whirligigs sprouted from naked trees before falling to let little green leaves appear, all rumpled and fresh. Robins strutted and lilacs bloomed, just waiting for librarians to wander into their arms to smell the most delicious scent ever. Tidy, petite trees bloomed with exquisitely dainty little white flowers that wafted an unfortunate scent across gentle breezes. Squirrels frolicked, knocking new foliage off trees, digging up brave shoots of new grass, and generally making a mess.
Spring has apparently decided that sweetness and light are passé, and that what we really need is a good tornado. Sunday’s temperature rose to sunburn warmth before descending abruptly into moody clouds. I was pottering about, tidying up dinner, took one look at the solid slate-blue sky, and thought tornado sky. The thought seemed rawther melodramatic, until the sirens went off.
Have you ever tried to wrangle a handful of cats into a powder room? Lucky you. It is the Worst Kitty Experience Ever, and humans aren’t too fond of the process, either.
We waited out what turned out to be a severe thunderstorm with miniature Netflix on a phone screen and knitting. Thank goodness for knitting. If I’d been stuck in our little box of a bathroom without my knitting, I probably would have been crying as loudly as Fermi.
I was very proud of my progress, feeling rawther like Anne of Green Gables, knitting to the war news on the wireless in Rilla of Ingleside. I completed the second sleeve of my o w l s sweater, and it was even the same length as the first one! Um…at least until I took it off the needles. Then I felt even more like Anne, who knitted four inches past the heel of her stocking. We’ll just set that one aside to fix later.
Tomorrow, we have more bad weather forecast, so I’m thinking I’ll keep my Midtown cardigan handy. I like this sweater, truly I do, but I usually knit stockinette in the round. Knitting two fronts at once in a slipped stitch pattern feels like the slowest. Knitting. Ever. I am finally through the front edge decreases, though, so I only have to knit straight for up to ten more inches. Up to because Romney is a bit slippery, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it will grow with washing. Even without the slipperiness, this beastie would have a date with the blocking bucket in the near future, because if I knit farther than I need to in a slipped stitch pattern, there will be more wailing than three cats being carried into a tornado shelter. Wish me luck, knitters. The weather variety, or the project variety, or both. I’ll take it all.