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When I knit socks, I
feel…..something.
I start at the toe, always. I do fancy matching increases every other row
and count on four pointy, tiny triple-zero needles. My stitches multiply and line up neatly. While I knit the feet – first one toe, then
the other (both socks at once, pulled from the outside and the center of the
ball at the same time) – I contemplate how to knit the legs of my socks. What will they become?
I feel…..industrious.
Will the legs be lacy, or
cabled? More often than not, especially
with patterned yarns, I am content to continue in stockinette stitch, revealing
the pattern locked in the painted wool.
I feel….wondrous.
The simplicity of socks, the
usefulness, the outright insanity of knitting something so rare, so frivolous,
so imperative – there’s magic in that.
I feel….expansive.
Five pairs on needles, maybe
more….ten, perhaps a dozen little socks, growing at different speeds, fill my
heart. All of those socks bleed into my
dreams, and caress my fingers and feet even there.
I feel….inspired.
My socks talk to me. They choose my clothes for me. What matches today? I wear open shoes, and little black Chinese
Mary Janes to show them off….I knit socks with separate big toes because flip
flops are de rigueur in Arizona. Socks are perfect, lovely and necessary, even
in the desert, even in summer. Socks
hide unpainted toes and unshaven legs.
They hold in the moisture of creams and lotions. They protect and pamper my swollen, sore
feet. Beautiful socks make me forget the
flaws underneath them.
I feel….attached.
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I am part of my socks, a bit of
my soul in each pair. I wash them by
hand, like babies, like slippery puppies in the tub. I scrub away red dirt and evidence of my day,
even particles of my own skin. Pieces of
my daily journeys swirl down the drain with the rinse water. Clean socks smell like expensive lavender
conditioner and dry quickly in the desert heat.
The wet wool turns to sunshine.
I feel….blessed.
Handmade socks are now a
necessity, and I can never have enough of them.
If I make a pair for you, it is because I love you. Even then I part from them unwillingly, and
want them back. I long for them the way I
crave your return. I do not understand
your absence, or your delay. When you
come back, wear your socks. Complete my
daydream. Soothe my soul.
cjh03may06
Just Added – AZ Flip Flop Socks Pattern
Play Fair - Please, remember this
basic kindness. These patterns, as well as the images and other artworks,
are for non-commercial use only. If
you decide to make one of the Luscious Gracious projects, remember it is
not legal to sell the item. Our
patterns may not be reprinted or copied in any way without our express permission.