Well, I’ve found that bloodhound metaphor very useful in the past week or so. The point I was working myself up to with that last post is that I don’t just have a writing bloodhound — I’ve got a whole pack of them, stored up there in my brain. There’s the general purpose bloodhound, which latches on to things like, “omg, let’s get a puppy!“, but also, to my surprise, I have a knitting/spinning bloodhound.
I’ve been knitting for about four or five years, but it’s only since I started spinning, last Christmas, that it’s really started to engage my bloodhound. There’s much more creative liberty and decision-making in choosing how to spin up a yarn than there is in following a pattern. So while, previously, I may have gone, “Oh, that’s a pretty pattern, I think it might be fun to knit”, now…
Now I see fiber like this:
and my heart skips a beat, my bloodhound catches a scent, and suddenly we are racing off after it, thinking, “OMG, progression dyes, our last progression dye came out SO WELL, this would make such a lovely shawl, oh, we could spin it into a nice laceweight 2-ply, preserving the progression, and oh, oh, we need to find a shawl pattern that looks like wings, or like feathers. Ohmigod, Seraphim.
How awesome would that be? Fading from grey out to charcoal, and then crimson just at the very edges? Dude.”
And the next thing I know, I’ve bought half a pound and am feeling a bit woozy about it all. (It’s going to be an awesome shawl, though.)