Come with me, to the frog pondI cast on some new socks last night. Nutkins, in Violet Green’s Stroud SuperSock in “Heather”. I frogged them and cast them on again. Now I contemplate another frogging. These socks do not speak to me. This yarn is demanding something of me that I do not wholly understand – it has been cast on for three unsuccessful projects so far, and been ripped more times than that.

Things are fraying, and not just the yarn.

It’s stupid. Why can I not marry any of my yarns to any one of my many collected patterns? The one sock that I am really keen to do calls for a weight of yarn I cannot supply, and cannot seem to source – and I’ll be damned if I am going to knit a tension square and start modifying to accommodate the yarn that I do have to hand! I shall bloody well spin some…

one day, when I get good enough to be able to control such matters.

Wouldn’t it be nice of the current spin just fell out to the right weight, as if by serendipity?

By the way, who took the sun away? I feel quite chilly this morning.