I finished a pair of socks on Monday. My first thought was – great! – I can take pictures and get a blog post ready in time for Wednesday. It’s good to actually talk about knitting now and again on a blog with the word “knits” in the title, I think.
And then my second thought was – boring! – another pair of picot edge stockinette socks. Like you all haven’t seen that a gazillion times right here. Nevertheless, I pulled out the camera yesterday and I staged them in the freshly fallen snow, trying to get some photos that didn’t look like every-other-photo of a finished pair of socks.
I basically failed at getting anything unique.
This here’s the “whole sock” photo.
And then there’s the “toe” photo.
The “picot edge” photo.
And, finally, the “artistic” one. Nothing new at all.
As I was processing the photos, adjusting the contrast and adding a warming filter and all that jazz, I was struck by all of those tiny stitches. They line up perfectly and there are just so many of them and even after all this time I sort of can’t believe that I can take sticks and string and make something so pretty.
I guess a finished pair of socks isn’t boring after all.