Yarn Whispering

I read a post on one of my absolute favorite blogs, Three Irish Girls, about how, if you let it and are so inclined, yarn can speak to you. That it may have wants and wishes of its own completely unrelated to your agenda. After wrestling with a certain skein through the entire holiday season this made a modicum of sense to me, so I decided to give it a try. When I was explaining to Evan that I intended to get in touch with my yarn he adopted the same look he wore when I told him that I was pimping out my van with zebra pillows - slightly incredulous barely veiled behind a hint of laughter. Undeterred, I sat down with said skein, part still knitted into the intended cabled wrist warmer I last saw when I threw it down in frustration and stormed off. It's a beautiful yarn, a cotton and silk blend in a dark, dewy purple that shines when the light hits it. With only slight hesitation, I started my experiment.




I'll spare you the rather lengthy conversation in its entirety, however. I began by apologizing to yarn for having not asked it's opinion in the first place, to which it remained quiet. The Yarnista told me to expect this, that yarn is quite as rebellious as a teenage boy at times, so I plowed on undeterred, asking yarn why it had so rejected the beautiful bag done in lace that I had originally intended it for. After a little cajoling yarn explained that she didn't fancy being a bag, especially a dainty lace one, and wanted no part in carrying around my collection of lipglosses.

I pondered a moment here as I realized perhaps yarn was right. After all, my current bag is roughly the size of volvo; how I could have expected the variety of mish mash I carry around with me to fit into such a small and delicate bag makes me wonder if that was the same day I left my phone in the rice cooker. Obviously, my judgement could have been a little off.

I admitted yarn was right, to which she looked a little too smug and fired off some choice comments that I chose to ignore.

My next line of questioning was what objection she had to the beautiful cabled wristwarmers, whose pattern I found after an extensive search of Ravelry, and why she hindered me every step of the way. Apparently the cables weren't the problem, rather that she believed herself too good to be a seasonal object that would end up in the back of the hall closet for half the year, likely losing her mate in the process. Again, perfect sense. And very true, she really is a beautiful yarn.

And so, finally, I asked yarn for her preference of projects. She requested something that would show off her gorgeous sheen, perhaps something that would keep the lovely cables. I let her think for awhile before she decided she needed time to decide, and also requested that she not be put back in the yarn basket, but on the bowl on my desk with my beloved handspuns, as she believed herself better than the common yarn in the wicker basket below.

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I did move it to the bowl. This particular yarn, though a little more demanding than I'd prefer, has certain qualities that remind me of myself, and far be it from me to stifle a kindred spirit. Perhaps in the sunlight, surrounded by bright handspuns, yarn will find it's way and help me create something we'll both be pleased with.

A little while later I picked up the skein of humble Purewool slated to become a pair of shorties for a customer. After the rather lengthy debate with the first yarn, I was a little hesitant to even ask, but....

I explained to yarn that he would become a pair of shorties for a little girl who would love him, but that the job wouldn't always be easy as he was stretched and played in and enjoyed. It assured me in an easy manner that it wouldn't mind that, and if that made me happy that he would be happy as well. He then suggested that I use a size 8, which of course, was an excellent idea.

This skein, quiet but kind, begins to remind me a bit of Evan.

Yarn and I begin our journey; the waistband shapes up nicely and before I know it I'm starting on the body. At this point, however, Bean wakes up and begins to cry. I start to lay my project down on the table beside me, reconsider, and move it to my bed. I have a sense this yarn would prefer the quiet comfort of my room, ready to be picked up at the end of a long day and enjoyed.

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I think I made headway today with some of my yarn, only time will tell how much fight the rest have in them. I'm going to have to watch that blue handspun still on my wheel though; I swear I hear it snickering already.....