It occurred to me as I was sitting in one of favorite knitting spots with a sweater and yarn draped luxuriously about me that something wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was the not so luxuriously draped yarn, which was in fact rather tangled, but rather it was something else. It niggled my brain way in the back the entire time I was knitting the 18 inches of body on the Hubby's Cobblestone. It did not come to me even after I started on the sleeve, so I decided to forget about it. It'll come to me when I need to know it, right?
Then it started entering my thoughts at other times. I was browsing through my old photos when it cropped up again. When I took this photo, I thought this was just a really bad shot of Hemlock and I shoved the nagging suspicion (as well as this bad photo) to the dark recesses of my imaginary world.
But it seems to resurface at the most random times, like when I was making the bed. A rare occurrence, I know, but all my hand knit socks live at the foot of the bed so that I can just pick which pair I want to wear today. Sometimes they get tossed aside with the decorative pillows. The needle spiked my "somethings wrong" radar, but I ignored it as I was in a hurry to finish my second to least favorite chore. (The first one is scrubbing.)
When Maya was "helping" me with the arrangement of my mitered square blanket today (still undecided), the thought crossed my mind that she might like the blanket because she looks so much like it. That's when IT happened.
Alarm bells went off in my head and the thought that had been lurking in my brain for weeks finally saw the light of day. I am knitting items which match my surroundings. I hope this is not some sort of knitter's defense mechanism. Or some allegoric premonition foretelling the doom to come.