Thursday, December 5, 2013

The Yarn Collector’s Half-Blanket


Here’s me, mincing through the snow in inappropriate footwear.


“Why didn’t you put your boots on?”  he said.


“I don’t know, I didn’t feel like going upstairs,”  I said. 


I made this gigantic tapestry-like granny thing for entirely the same reason.  “It’s cold in here,”  I say. 

“Go get a sweater,”  he says. 

“I don’t feel like going upstairs,”  I say. 


It seems like this thing could multi-function as a bathrobe, napping blanket, and emergency lazy sweater, castle Great Hall drapery, stage curtain in a small puppet theater—anything, really!

It’s pretty big.


It’s too big to be a shawl, and I’m not sure you could even call it a wrap.  It’s a half-blanket, is what it is.  A blanket you can wear.  That’s the dream, people!  This is the North, and it is cold here, a lot of the time.  A blanket I can wear?  Come on.   All I need now is a hot cocoa dispenser that will fit in my pocket. 


What happened is that I had, over the years, collected some yarn.  Fancy, hand-painted skeins in beautiful colors that looked so pretty I couldn’t help myself, and then they sat there in the stash not being made into anything, or being made into something ridiculous and then getting unraveled again, but not going anywhere, because they were fancy and they were pretty, and I had collected them.  They got precious.  I lately noticed how much space they were hogging in the cupboard, so I gathered them all up and spent a very contented week turning them into this, and now I feel prepared for virtually anything.  Whenever there is a winter solstice bonfire to attend, a Christmas parade, a late autumn football game, it will be there.  When I go out in my nightgown and nearly bare feet to gather the eggs, it will be there.  When I say, “It’s cold in here,” he won’t send me upstairs for a sweater, he’ll just reach for this and tuck it around my shoulders.

I tried to count all the re-wound skeins and tiny balls that were pieced together to make this, and my best estimate is that I used 10 skeins of Manos del Uruguay Clasica, 3 skeins of Noro Silk Garden, 1 skein of Noro Kureyon, 2 skeins of Lorna’s Laces Lion and Lamb, and 1 skein of Araucania Magellan, which is so old I couldn’t find any trace of it to link for you.  They are mostly worsted weight, though they varied some in gauge, but I never worry about that unless the finished object has to fit somebody, and this thing will certainly fit anybody—probably several somebodys all at once, if it comes to that.  I used a US J hook.  Each of these yarns is crazy but beautiful, and it is frankly a huge relief to have finally figured out what to do with it all. 

In the event that you, too, have an unwieldy pile of precious skeins you’d like to find a use for, here’s my quick and dirty granny triangle pattern:

Chain 4, join in a loop.

Ch 3, work 2dc in the loop, ch 2, work 3 dc (granny cluster). Ch 3, turn.

Work 2 dc in top of ch 3, ch 1, [3dc, ch2, 3dc] in ch 2 space, ch 1, work granny cluster in top of last dc. Ch 3, turn.

Keep going just like that until your yarn runs out.