Eventually, I completed my mom's birthday gift. Only a month after the actual date, but as I've mentioned, she is patient and understanding. (As every mom should be, no?)
Row by row, this mango yellow scarf grew slowly. A few weeks ago, while relaxing and watching an episode of Planet Earth with my oldest child, he helped me by unwinding a bit of yarn for me every few minutes. I noticed that he was holding the yarn gently to his top lip, just under his nose; the incredibly soft combination of silk and alpaca seemed to tickle him just so in that particular spot. (It reminded me of another boy who once enjoyed the softness of a pussy willow, until it became stuck in his nose and had to be removed with the help of tweezers and a doctor.) I became absorbed in my work as M absentmindedly unwound the yarn, until I noticed that nearly the entire ball of yarn sat in a tangle on the couch between us. Once asked to rewind the yarn, he climbed off the couch and began tightly wrapping the yarn into something resembling a drumstick.
Finally, the scarf was finished. When I consulted the pattern for finishing instructions I discovered that my creation doesn't look much like the photo. Huh. I have a few skeins left of this yarn; perhaps I'll try again and read the instructions more carefully next time. Or maybe, so we won't be so mother-daughter matchy-matchy, I'll make one to match my pretty beret.
Every completed project must be appropriately documented, so I headed outside with the camera during a sunny afternoon. My arms aren't quite long enough for a self-portrait, and the timer didn't suit either. The solution? Hand the four year old the digital camera and show him which button to press.
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