This weekend, despite spending a fair bit of time carousing and involved in various activities of a social nature, I somehow managed to finish the second sleeve for my Amelia cardigan and get the yoke under way.
I've decided that one of my New Year's resolutions should be to knit with the best, most special-est yarn that I have, instead of saving it for who knows what perfect pattern that may or may not ever cross my path. One of the truths I have learned in my time as a knitter is that there will always be more yarn. Really. Use the good stuff.
So, in that spirit, I cast on with quite possibly the most special yarn in my possession, which is my handspun from an Icelandic fleece from True North Farm. I knew the sheep this fleece came from, picked it out on the hoof when Frederika was but a wee and gorgeous beastie, and visited her in the field whenever I was at the farm. I spun the fleece in the grease, lock by individual lock, back in 1998 or '99. This yarn carries a lot of sentimental weight for me; it evokes a very particular, fleeting and special point in time. I've tried to work with it plenty of of times over the last ten years, but never could. I think that I've been laboring under the delusion that making a less than absolutely perfect sweater out of this yarn would be disrespectful to those memories, which is an idea I know Harry and Jimmie would not stand for.
Two of the skeins are a much heavier weight than the others and I was thinking that I'd use them for a broad seed stitch band at the cuffs and lower edge of the body, but when I tried, it just looked clunky and unfortunate.
Instead, I'm going to do simple, sewn-down hems — they're pinned up in the photo. I really like the contrast of the very rustic yarn and streamlined design. And it's a contradiction that I think the guys would have approved of.