Monday, 3 June 2013


I am not a collecter of tchokies. When I travel, I generally always end up coming home with exactly what I left home with, except for a couple memory cards for my camera laden with images or something really unique and beautiful that I will treasure forever. Moving around a bit and not knowing where you might call home next are big players in this habit, and I also have no love for the act of dusting in which tchokies on the shelf love to attract.

Alas, I have a downfall: the odd skeins of local yarns that would be impossible to find anywhere else.


While France and most of Europe is filled with yarn of the mill-spun and commercial variety (functional but boring), every now and then I end up someplace that has something special. True, none of the yarns I picked up in Denmark were remarkably soft, but they have a lovely rustic appeal that I love. The brown skein of yarn is spun from sheep in Greenland. I didn't even know there were sheep in Greenland, but whatever they are, they make Icelandic Lopi seem soft as cashmere in comparison. The dark gray is probably Gotland, the grey a blend of local breeds from the Falklands. Wintery yarns made so that both man and beast are at ease surviving in a harsh climate.


I've been knitting quite a bit lately as being on the road a lot means I have plenty of time to stitch away. My goal for the summer months is to knock out a couple lace shawls and at least 3 sweaters, and perhaps a few gifts as well. I have also decided that I can't leave France with more yarn than I brought here, so I'll be whittling this down from the rubbermaid shipping container I brought from New York that I can barely notice a dent in so far.

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