Well my dears, any impressions I had here about Texas monsoons have been shot to hell by the arrival of Hermine. I’ve been trying to decide on an appropriate way to describe this storm for those of you unfamiliar with such weather. No single sentence seemed grandiose enough so here are a three: It’s like being in a giant weather blender in which rain, lighting, thunder, and wind grow more and more frequent until they achieve a level of intensity akin to stampeding elephants. It’s like some great cosmic fire-hose was unleashed on top of us. It’s like a World War II reenactment complete with explosives and waterworks.
Last night I was kept awake by continuous bursts of lighting, rain hammering the house, and the lowing of a poor group of cows that had, I imagine, had an even worse night than I did. Local reports are citing nearly 15 inches of rainfall, to which I can not attest as our pluviometer (I do love that word) overflowed before I had a chance for accurate measurement.
All this nasty weather has me in full hibernation mode which inevitably finds me reaching for my knitting. About a month ago I finished a pattern self-described as “a sweater that has evolved from the poncho.” Indeed. Well as lovely as the sweater/poncho seemed in theory, upon completion of 8 months of off and on work I found I absolutely hated it. While the cabling was divine, as it ought to be after such pains with those damn bobbles, the sweater itself swallowed me like some amorphous sack. The top was cozy and snug, but the ridiculous poncho/sweater sleeves flapped open to admit cold breezes with the slightest movement of the arms. And that is why, dear readers, I resolved to kill it.
It struck me with depressing clarity how quickly one can destroy something that took months of hard work to create. I thought to document the offending garment just after I had picked out the first shoulder seam. Here it is, looking rather benign.
Jacob took this picture on Sunday before the storms hit. We’d been spending cozy hours swaying in the hammock, which seemed a perfect place for a bit of unraveling.
Quite suddenly, that meticulously wrought sweater became this heap of kinked, tired balls. While I mourn the long hours of wasted labor, I find this rather refreshing, like a blank canvas. Sometimes to start anew we have to destroy a bit, gently and sensibly of course, but destroy nonetheless.
And so, in the spirit of fresh starts, I have begun a new sweater, knitted top down from the collar. If any of you are interested in either pattern, you can find them on my Ravelry page. I do hope to be able to work the wisteria cabling into this new sweater somehow, because I’ve certainly had the practice! Perhaps running up the back. Hmmm.