Trying to notice the quiet things, the shift in light, the rough edges, trying to shake that feeling of losing time, not settling between knitting and sewing, not settling between winter and spring (that’s the same now un- snowy hillside from my previous snowy post, it was near 70° yesterday and tomorrow’s forecast is 8″ of snow). Pulling fabrics for practice, before fussy cutting for friends, telling myself the only way to conquer all my zipper hang-ups, is to buy 200+ yards of zip coil and just get on with it (those smooth matte buttery pulls are everything ♡). Wishing more days were as simple as contemplating sun patches.
Same colors and tones, basic washed out hues of soft pink & milky cream. Today my thoughts are questions.. why did I do that, why didn’t I do that? Sometimes I get thinking too big and important and end up feeling very small and insignificant (I mean on the grand scale of it all, well, it’s incredibly true) but for right here and now, I’m trying my best to understand the whys.
Like why didn’t I change out my heavyweight needle when sewing this finicky broadcloth, why didn’t I cut the inside pockets so they would go all the way to the side seams like the outside pockets do, and why when I realized they wouldn’t and I didn’t have enough of my prized cotton canvas left to fix it, I decided to just pink them and leave them raw? Why was that what my perfectionist self did, why now do I love this bag so freaking much, f’d up inside pockets, puckers and all?
Why do I have to justify loving it to myself?
Or why do I tote this shawl everywhere but never work on it, I absolutely adore it, I really do, but it’s been on the needles since October 2018 and is a main rotation wip ..why don’t I knit more?
Why isn’t the little bit I knit enough?
It must be the heaviness of winter, thick blankets of snow muffling the everyday sounds, leaving excess quiet time for overly critical reflection. Why?