Prairie Fire

I am enchanted!!


This girl of the South (by transplant!) has done most all of her knitting up to this point in time in cotton or linen or bamboo or silk.  Well, there was the one ghastly use of pale aqua bulky weight acrylic, but we won't talk about that.  ::shudder::  We just don't usually need the warmer fibers in the "sunny South."


Until this winter, when we seemed to be cold...all...the...time and I determined that I would, indeed, bring warmth into the house.


This was my inspiration for my latest knitting creation:

Cold kids, frosty days, and the need for endless cups of hot cocoa.


And so . . . I bought wool!!


Have I mentioned I am enchanted?  This is my first time ever knitting with wool.  As it runs through my fingers, I just can't get over the fact that the beautiful fibers are right off the backs of sheep . . . real, live sheep . . . donating their beautiful soft wool . . . so I can knit up a throw to keep my children warm.  I feel just as complete as if I had sheared, carded and spun the wool myself.


Here's the wool, Prairie Fire by Brown Sheep.  It's super bulky, so it's loose, thick and soft.  

Isn't Prairie Fire just perfect for this yarn?  I can see the white of the ash, the black of the soot, the grey of the smoke and, of course, the roaring red of the fire, all loosely twisted together.  


I'm knitting it up in moss stitch.  

Did I say something about this yarn just flying off the needles?  Yes, of course I did because that's how it should have gone as viewed through my typically rose-hued specs.

However . . . I found out that if one is knitting in moss stitch and you mess up a few stitches and you think, "Ha, no one will never know, living with imperfection, you know, and all that jazz," then soon you will find that instead of a wide swath of moss stitch, you will have moss stitch with several "ribs" up through it.  Knitting is no friend of the concept of living with imperfections.  Knitting doesn't seem to get along well with imperfection at all.

So, the beautiful throw was ripped back and started over again.  This time with no overlooking of imperfections.  Not this time.  And it's actually given me more time to handle this fiery prairie of wool, lovingly donated by a sheep and his friends somewhere in the world.


I had better get to work quickly.  As wonderful as handling this wool is on a damp, gray day in February, knitting a large wool throw in the color Prairie Fire while watching one's children playing in the pool on a baking hot day in July does not sound quite as charming.