When I went to Portland earlier this month, I told myself I was not going to buy fabric or yarn. I bought both. You saw the green knit when I posted it, shortly following my trip, but truthfully there was more. I had packages shipped home from two stores, a few items that I believed would not have fit in my tiny roll-aboard suitcase, but in fact they probably would have fit, and I could have saved myself the shipping expense. I would have had to check the bags, as it would have been unlikely I could lift them, but since I checked the bag coming home anyway, would not have been a problem.
But of course, then I would have not experienced the joy of opening the packages. I failed to anticipate that sense of excitement, the thrill of opening, even knowing the contents. I had simply put both packages aside, apparently patiently awaiting just the right moment. I opened the smaller package yesterday, a package from Knit Purl containing some lovely Habu yarns, and even knowing all this, my pleasure in the unwrapping was palpable: the promise, the anticipation. Would I still love the yarn? Would the getting actually be as exciting as the anticipation had been? Yes, and Yes. Even more so, in fact because of the promise of creation that lies ahead.
The four cones at the bottom contain yarn for a simple summer top, probably something that is fairly open, knit on big needles, and meant for layering. There is an image in my mind, but the details have not yet been confirmed. The two yarns at the top left will be for a lightweight scarf or shawl.
Neither project will be started right away. I have two projects on the needles, the zebra mitts, and a second project, a shawl using some Jaeger Sienna in a pale pale lilac which I have decided I shall never wear. The mitts will be finished first, the shawl is too small even to photograph well, only 5 repeats, out of 75 for the main pattern, have been completed.