I can go on for months deluding myself that I merely dabble in knitting until something occurs to warn me that I will swiftly become a Knitter with a capital Kn if I don't watch out.
Yesterday on the subway I earned my Knitting Scout Obsessive's Badge when a small girl of about three got on the uptown F train with her dad. She was riding one of those little pedal-cars that turn into strollers by the addition of a long pole manipulated by the aforementioned dad; she had a tangle of blonde curls on her head and a pair of amusing sunglasses on her face; around her neck was a handknitted scarf like autumn itself spun into gossamer silk.
I looked at this picture of precious, whimsical youth, tended with loving care, and I thought: "Well, if it isn't Crystal Palace Splash in the Turning Leaves colorway. I wonder how long it took to knit?"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment