The other day I washed all my dirty hand knit socks. As I was folding them and stacking them so that I could put them back in my sock drawer I was struck by how many pairs there are and the memories I had of knitting all of them.
I remembered where I got all of the yarns, who I was with and why I was shopping at that particular moment.
I reminisced about knitting the socks. The patterns, some simple and some more complex, the feel of the yarn as I worked, some softer than others, and the color – all the glorious color.
I thought about which ones I enjoy wearing the most, either because of the color or the pattern or the yarn itself.
And I decided I am so glad I am a sock knitter.