Browsing Tag


How I Rescued My Hand Knit Accessories

It's not too late. Rescue your hand knits today.

Until last week, my hand knit accessories lived in a tangled, disorganized pile in a dirty storage bin in the bottom of the bedroom closet, chaotically disorganized amidst the non-knitted accessories. Plus a few old cottons tees.

I will pause while you gasp and then regain your composure.

It is criminal, I know.

A hand knit shawl should not smell musty. It simply cannot be.

Sadly our house is tight on storage space. The fact that we are minimalists doesn’t seem to comepensate.

The gravity of the situation hit me. Hard. I quickly freed up a basket and rolled the scarves, shawls, and hats just so. Tidy. Safe. Easy to find.

If only I can find a situable place to store the basket.

What struck me the most was this: after a near two decades of knitting, mostly accessories at that, this is all that remains. Of the zillions of mittens, scarves, shawls, and hats that I have created (some prettier than others), all I have kept for myself are the knits in this basket. Nothing more.

Except for the pair of fingerless gloves stashed in my purse for cold driving mornings.

And the hat knit in 1999 that resides in my car for emergencies. (Best not to be car-stranded without a good hat in the event Pure Survival is an issue. Be prepared for emergencies. Knitting just might save your life.)

Otherwise, it has all been gifted. Holidays. Birthdays. Babies. Just because. Such is the way of the knitter. And rightly so. How many scarves does one person actually need? Five? Less? More?

All this leads me to think of the hand knits that have been passed on to friends and family over the years. I cringe a bit to think of the particularly ugly ones…the leg warmers knit in too heavy a wool, gifted to the yoga teacher who surely buried them in the bottom of her own closet. At best. Some friends were luckier. They received nicer knitted gifts. Soft. Lacy. Pretty.

I hope they are well loved.

A knitter wishes the best for knitted gifts as they make their way to a new home, just as a mother frets and hopes for her children, even after they are grown.

Now, where should I put that basket?