Pattern: Washington Square by Kirsten Kapur
Yarn: Knit Picks Wool of the Andes Kettle Dyed (100% Peruvian Highland wool), colorway Jay
Needles: U.S. 8 Harmony wood Options 36″ circular needle (knit flat)
A sweater is a saga. It starts from deep necessity, both of the external and obvious kind (I’m cold, and all my sweaters have three-quarter sleeves making them insufficiently cozy) and of the internal and nebulous kind (these jaunts round the block aren’t doing it for me; my feet itch for a long journey).
Every saga ends with a miracle. The miracle is that you came to the end, that the pieces were connected, that the threads were woven in, that the story now lies in front of you complete in a way that was unimaginable when it was in process.
You feel moved to confess how many doubts you had along the way. Doubts about whether your stock of material would last, even though the other examples to which you looked for guidance assured you that you had enough. Doubts about whether the recipe was leading you astray. Doubts about whether the process of finishing, of tidying up, of shaping and blocking and making ready for public view, would redeem the infelicities and imbalances that nagged at you while you worked.
The biggest doubt of all, of course, is the one you had to overcome (or at least ignore) right at the outset: the doubt that this saga would end up being the story of you. That it would fit you and suit you. No amount of research can reassure on this point. Every sweater is a leap of faith. And when you don it for the first time and find that it makes you even more like you are or would like to be, the saga ends with that quietest note of triumph, the homecoming. Those sweaters are miracles. They never feel like your work, like your doing. All you can do is be grateful when they come along.