It is like spring, warm and soft with rain. There are new leaves unfurling on the rose bushes and robins strutting around the garden.

I am seized with knitter’s remorse. How could I have spent all those cold months making small things like hats, scarves, and socks? How could  I have knitted up all that cotton and linen, and left myself with nothing but wool? Hopkins will be finished just as it gets to be too warm to wear it. And then I will have Erin to do, a cardigan even heavier, warmer, and generally woolier than Hopkins. What was I thinking? I’ll have a lapful of wool in the summer!

The sensible course would be to knit all the small things in the summer. Then, in the crisp days of autumn, with a drawer full of completed Christmas gifts, I can enjoy knitting Erin, and have something new to wear when it gets cold again. So I will be knitting Hopkins faithfully while it is still fairly cool, and staunchly resisting the siren call of the remaining pieces of the linen/cotton bath ensemble, the beaded piano bench cover, and all the rest of it.

Meanwhile, I have managed to cut out about half the quilt pattern. I am ending up, as promised by the directions, with a sort of enormous paper doily and many torn bits which I am having to repair. I trust that this process will become more enjoyable at some point in the future.

And, speaking of siren calls, if you were like me and could not resist the lure of the DNA scarf (I made three), then you might also like the periodic table of the elements sweater. You can click on the small picture on this site and see it in all its glory. I am not having much trouble resisting it, myself. I do however have the idea of a periodic table quilt on my list of projects to do in some future parallel universe in which I have lots of extra time. Speaking of extra time, Orgue has asked me to help make costumes for the kids of the church I no longer attend (except as a double agent). I have not outright refused, but I think it is sad that the more obvious people — like the members of his choir, the parents of the kids in question, people who still attend the church — are not volunteering. However, this is a reflection of the reason I have changed churches. How can you have 700 professed Christians in a group, and continually have a lack of volunteers? For anything? Perhaps they are all madly trying to get their wooly sweaters completed before the weather turns too warm.

I have largely given up on the idea of finishing #1 son’s quilt by his birthday, but I still feel rather busy. I still have to finish those black clothes before the spring concert, too. Hmm. I may have to add my name to the list of people who have refused to help make those costumes.