Two years ago, my wonderful sister sent me a lovely bunch of soft, bulky alpaca yarn for my birthday. It was love at first sight, reigniting my knitting passion, something that had smoldered with lingering projects and little attention through my first year of graduate school. I immediately cast on for a new scarf. When I ran out of two of the colors before finishing my project, my sister was a great sport. She quickly mailed more of the required colors in the matching dye lot. When it was done, I loved my scarf.
Eventually I made a matching hat. For some reason, I had sharp pangs of desire for a hat with earflaps. I played with designs for a while, eventually making something up that I was happy with. I felt quite cozy and styling with my matching alpaca hat and scarf.
Then, last spring, tragedy struck: I left my scarf on the bus. I knew immediately and turned back, but the accordion door was already shut and the bus moved on. After many calls to the bus station and several visits to their lost and found, it was clear: a stranger had my scarf.
What to do? After a period of anger—at myself and the scarf thief—I decided that the only course of action left to me was to find more of the yarn, and to make another scarf. I mean, really—the hat simply wouldn't look so snappy without its mate. Now, that mission is almost complete.
In this picture you can see the two scarves I knit during the past week. One is a delicate silk and mohair scarf for a friend, and the other is my NEW scarf. Both need a little more attention before they are complete (ends to hide and blocking to be done), but I'm really happy with both. I'll post another picture of each when they're completely finished. In the mean time, I have a bunch of bits and partial skeins left of the alpaca yarn. I think another scarf, perhaps for a very nice sister, is in order.