When I first seriously considered starting a knitting blog, I did what I presume any wise knitter would do: I swatched. That is, I wrote a few “mock blogs” (in secret — didn’t even tell my family I was trying it out). Then, feeling rather like a first-grader, I showed George and Sarah what I wrote and they said “go for it.” We tusseled with blog names for a few days, the rest of my family kind of rolled their eyes and smiled, Sarah figured out all the techno stuff and here we are.

One or two of the swatches are a bit out of date — having been written a month ago — but tell a bit about who I am as a knitter. My process, as it were. Oh, dear, I am getting all serious about myself (rather like a first-grader again — or, at least, like I was as a first-grader, kind of fervent and bookish). Anyhow, the following bit was written on a tempestuous winter day (not a bit like today’s sunny almost spring day) and is about the genesis of a sweater that is now about 5 inches long:

February 5th:

The weather forecast for the next week is mid-30s to mid-40s and rain. Every time I look out the window it is raining from a different direction. The gutters are overflowing. It is midday and there is hardly enough light to knit by.

In February, gardeners turn to seed catalogs and knitters turn to yarn catalogs. In the perpetual twilight, it becomes easy to visualize poppies and exotic begonias, cotton sweaters in party mint colors and frothy lacy stoles for bare arms on summer nights. I even sound like a catalog! A vintage one, maybe.

What do people who do not garden or knit think about in February?! I suppose that is why murder mysteries were created.

My thought, when I pulled out the Dalgarn booklets, was to entertain myself while eating lunch. Cherubs in knit ensembles. I was not planning a project, certainly. And, at first, nothing leapt out at me anyhow – in case I had been planning a project, which I was not. I was a little disappointed in spite of myself. Too early, really, to get excited over spring knits.

Except I kept going back to a rather simple, vintage-y cardigan and pants set. Baby blue with a geometric border. My first impression was that the pants were shorts – and when I realized they were not, I thought, “Too bad – it would make a darling shorts set” and turned the page. But my brain did not move on to the next page. Quite without my permission, it started to plan: make the pants shorts, knit it in ivory with greens for the border, Max could wear the cardigan at Easter with khakis (if the shorts were not done yet) and then wear the suit in its entirety at his Aunt Sonja’s wedding in July. Brilliant.

Out came the yarn catalog that carries Dalegarn Ull (which had just arrived – a sure sign). A quick consult with Sarah who concurred – though she has the flu and is on some trippy cough medicine and may deny it all later. An intense discussion over shades of green. A few mad dashes in other color directions and then back to the greens. Bring on the laptop computer and the credit card. Deed done.

Outside, the rain is still slashing heartlessly against the gray pavement, trees, houses, cars. But in a warehouse somewhere there are boxes of baby-soft yarn in ivory, kiwi, sky, and a whisper of light green.