Knitting up a frenzy

Oh yes, it's a yarnapalooza around here. All kinds of knitting projects going down.

Not me. My daughter. She puts me to shame.

Since I have nothing to show you (nothing, people since the Cat Barf Incident) she gave me permission to share some of her recent projects.

To recap (no pun intended) here is the hat she made me for Christmas.

It fits me perfectly and I love, love, love the rich jewel tone colours.

Then I was browsing in our local consignment shop, and I found not one but TWO wooden hat forms that are both my size. One is mounted on a pole (above) and the other sits on its stump, neckless, like a victim of the French Revolution after someone rifled through the wicker basket under the guillotine. They keep my hats blocked and ready to wear and I was right chuffed to find them.

However, I have heard the rumblings of discontent from the peasants who dwell within my house. They complain about how it must look to outsiders who must walk past the dining room window in order to get to the front door, and how startling it must be for them to see a pair of heads on the table. I think they look perfectly fine, especially seeing as I also have a row of wooden foot forms along the sill.

But I digress.

Here is the other hat Youngest made for herself. It's in cashmere and silk. It looks a lot better on her than it does on this wooden form, but you'll have to take my word for it when I tell you that handling this hat is like running your hands through warm butter.
And the scarf underneath is an infinity scarf, all joined together in one long oval that you twist and put over your head. It comes out looking a bit grey in the above shot, but it's actually more like this shade of green:

Being an artist, she has a good eye for colour. I love green and rose colours together. You see it a lot in nature.
I guess Mother Nature knew what she was doing. Even if she does get a bit pissy every now and then and sends us SNOW in May.

Not content to sit back on her heels and rest, Youngest out-done-did herself and made socks. Handknit socks! Self taught! Seriously, she inherited some mighty powerful craft mojo from someone and coupled with an artist's eye, she is a force to be reckoned with.


Then the piece de resistance, as far as the rest of us were concerned. These little gloveless beauties made from something called cashmerino, a heady blend of merino wool, cashmere and some other fibre not worth mentioning in the same breath. Oh, baby. These are soft, and the colour of new grass in the spring. Youngest offered them up to me. Eldest then made a play for them, stating that her new office was freezing and it would make her so much more comfortable if she could wear them at work.

As the provider of All Things Edible, I made an impassioned pitch as to why I should get the gloves. My writer's fingers need the warmth to avoid the dreaded affliction which strikes down many a writer in his or her prime - Finger Cramp (stifled sob.) It would keep my finger muscles in top shape and thus, provide more victuals for the family. Why, I would be able to write and then say, knead some bread dough for some sweet cinnamon rolls, your decision, no pressure, take your time, you decide, I'm just saying, as a fer instance, no pressure, no guilt. Don't let the fact that I gave you life influence you one teensy bit.

Just look at these puppies and you tell me what you wouldn't do to own a pair:

That's what I'm saying. However, Youngest is a kind and generous soul and has decided to make another pair. That is, after she finishes the white cashmere hat she started yesterday.