In which we are cold but happy

It seems an unusual affliction, particularly for a self-professed process knitter, but truth be told, I like to finish things.  I often have several projects and several crafts on the go at once, but nothing ever sits around for too long. 

However, when I put the blinkers on to work for Christmas presents, a new baby's layette, or, plucking an example from thin air, decide to knit seven elephants in not quite as many weeks, whatever was on the needles at the time gets plunged to the bottom of the knitting basket, only to see the light of day when the piles of baby cashmerino have been herded away.

And so, as I rounded the corner on the cast off of Kitty's little dress, I faced a dilemma.  Way back in August in those halcyon summer days, I'd excavated the stash for some very special yarn, and cast on a nice pretty little top.  At the time of the commencement of what I'm sure will in time come to be known as 'the great elephant delivery of 2011' I'd got about half way up the back.

Fast forward two months (and a bit). It's cold, I'm wearing socks, and a scarf, and on Friday I wore mittens while waiting for a train on our very windy platform.  Do I finish what I've started, or put it away for more clement times? Linen mix sleeveless top in October? Why that would be perfect!

Let me introduce you to Flow:

The pattern is from Norah Gaughan volume 2, knit in Berroco Seduce; a slubby mix of rayon, silk, linen and nylon spun as a wrapped cord.  It makes a crunchy but flippy fabric that swishes and swirls.

In essence it is a flared stocking stitch sleeveless top, with reverse stocking stitch at the neck and shoulders.  But that doesn't do it justice, that's just words, the poetry is in the way that the fabric drapes, clings and curves.  While the heat today was only in my imagination (positive mental attitude being key if you're going to go out in the frost with no sleeves), when the damp and steamy thick heat of an English summer returns, this will be perfect with a long skirt, flip flops and perhaps a little shawl.

The colour is Verdigris; it's reminiscent of Oxford college domes, weather vanes, and leaky water pipes.

I bought the yarn many moons ago on my last trip to Florida when my shape was not quite what it is today.  I think I meant to knit the size 34 but bought an extra skein to add some length so I had seven to play with.

Having read all the notes on Ravelry about even the most petite knitter needing to add a little length, I cast on for the size 38 with more hope than expectation, and added a whopping four inches to front and back before the armhole shaping (yes, that's four as in 4), fully anticipating needing to acquire an extra skein or some leftovers from someone.  But for now the knitting muses are with me, and whilst I wouldn't say I have oodles left over, I had plenty to sew the seams and knit the borders without ever once having to knit faster so that I finished before the yarn ran out.

So do I count it a success?


Well I'm either thrilled with it, or absolutely and completely freezing and desperate to get back into the nice warm house because we are taking pictures really rather early in the morning as H has to get to a hockey match.  Perhaps it's both?