A Little Story
The first pair of socks was knit toe up, plain stockinette with picot hems at the top a la Claudia.
The second pair of socks was knit top down with the Blueberry Waffles stitch pattern. Both socks were spectacular examples of sockie goodness. The colors in the yarn made little speckles that danced on the Pink Lemon's feet and the Pink Lemon noticed that not only had she enjoyed spinning this yarn, she had enjoyed knitting this yarn and tended to wear these socks as soon as they were washed and placed back in her drawer.
The Pink Lemon remembered another half pound of roving purchased from this same vendor, but the Pink Lemon did not own this and could not spin, knit and enjoy it. So the Pink Lemon decided that in 2006, when Heaven once again came to the mystical land of Maryland, she would find the vendor and purchase more of their rovings. The Pink Lemon's plans were thwarted however, when she was unable to find the booth for Kid Hollow Farm. Downcast and needing to use the restroom, the Pink Lemon left the giant Sheeparama without more Kid Hollow Farm roving (she did take home quite a bit of other things so it wasn't really as sad as it sounds). She knew that her mother had not yet spun the Kiwi roving (her mother, like all good fibery people, tends to stash way more than she actually uses). The Pink Lemon could ask to purchase the roving from her mother, but there was a good chance her mother had forgotten about the roving. Calling her attention to it might make her want to spin it up herself when she looked at its soft, colorful beauty. Somehow, the Pink Lemon had to distract her mother with something else so that she wouldn't notice the subtle shadings, the fluffy softness, the perfect sockie potential of the Kiwi roving. The Pink Lemon thought and thought. She thought some more. Every time she wore her Loganberry socks (which was a lot), she thought even harder. Unfortunately, she never could come up with anything so beautiful, so wonderful, so distracting, that she would be able to get the Kiwi roving back. (Or at least so beautiful, so wonderful, so distracting, that she was willing to part with.) It seemed that the Kiwi roving would be lost forever to the Pink Lemon, relegated to marinating for all eternity in her mother's stash. The Pink Lemon tried to go on with her life, she tried to forget the Kiwi, but it sat stubbornly in the back of her mind, taunting her with its very existence as part of her mother's stash.
One day the Pink Lemon sat down to spin and decided to try to spin a yarn that was lofty and bouncy. She spun and she spun. The roving was dyed in the Beach colorway from Kendig Cottage. It was beautiful. It was fluffy. It was almost 1150 yards. It was also the unfortunate aqua color of babies whose parents wait until they are born to find out if they have dangly bits or not. The Pink Lemon couldn't get past the unknown baby connotations the color had for her. She figured that the yarn had served its purpose as helping her to learn to spin a softly spun but lofty yarn and that it could play in her stash (for she had one also) for all eternity. Then, the Pink Lemon's mother mentioned that she could give the Beach yarn a home. A good home. A home where it was loved and not mocked for being a unisex baby color. The little bit of the Pink Lemon's brain where the memory of Kiwi roving had sat, mocking her for over a year, woke up. The Pink Lemon could purge her stash of the Beach yarn and also finally, get the Kiwi roving back into her grasp. At last the Pink Lemon had the perfect distraction to get the Kiwi roving back by her side, where it obviously belonged anyway. Casually, the Pink Lemon asked her mother if she would be willing to trade 8 ounces of unspun fiber for 12 ounces of spun, gloriously soft and fluffy fiber. Her mother, not knowing that she was about to give up the most wonderful part of her stash- even better than the baby camel fluff (let's face it, she'll probably never spin it - baby camel fluff is scary)- said YES! The Pink Lemon heard angels sing the Hallelujah Chorus (or at least a six year old boy singing the James Bond theme with his teddy bear). Yesterday, delivered into the hands of the Pink Lemon, by the muggle postman who had no idea what he was carrying, was this:
The Kiwi roving is home at last!