Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickenson
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickenson
There was plenty of the colored yarn to make at least more feathers, but I ran out of the black since it was a cone of yarn I had mostly used for a weaving project some time ago. Eighteen feathers worth is plenty though, it wraps around my shoulders with at least two overlaps easily. With the drape of the yarns, it is very soft and clingy.
Everyone has their own thoughts on this pattern but here are my own. The first time through I just followed word for word and row for row, and it worked, despite my typical troubles with knitting geometry. The next few times through of course I got more and more comfortable. By the eighth feather I stuck the instructions in my knitting bag and worked entirely from memory for the rest of it, without difficulty. So what does a knitter whose mind is more or less broken with stress and depression do at this point?
Cast exactly the same thing on the needles, with hand spun yarns this time.
2 comments:
This turned out beautifully, and you did it so quickly!
Wishing peace for your family in the coming year :)
That scarf is absolutely magnificent, and I love the name for it (I love that poem!).
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