Fall, or perhaps Winter, has finally come to Chicago.
The Windy City, it seems, likes its seasons lengthy and sudden - it has little patience for silly intermediaries like Fall and Spring. In other words, in a week's time I have gone from t-shirts and skirts to wool sweaters and winter coats.
Autumn is my favorite of all the seasons, but Fall in Chicago isn't the crisp cooling of California or the vibrant maple reds of New England. It has a mood entirely of it's own. Splashes of yellow intermix with dull reds and brown on civic trees and Lake Michigan grows dirty and cruel in appearance. Choppy waves sends joggers to higher paths, pleasure boats to shrink-wrapped sleep and I pull my coat a tighter as I pass on the bus.
But I like wool sweaters and crisp breezes and snacking on hot cider and popcorn. The shifting seasons give me excuse to hunker down into the hobbies I ignore in friendlier weather, namely knitting.
I'll turn on an oven to 375° in the dead heat of summer to bake a cake, but I won't touch yarn above 65°. I an not a die hard knitter. I have no stash. I've attempted no afghan. But after finally giving in to the knitting bandwagon that over took all eight of my fellow interns in Portland, I have come to love this rather complicated form of weaving.
The thing that I think is amazing about knitting is that I'm making fabric, in the exact shape (hopefully) that I want it to be - no cutting, maybe a seam here or there, but largely a fully-fashioned thing pops off of the needles like Athena from Zeus' head, whether it be a sock, a sweater, or an elephant.
I am currently working on my first "sweater," a shrug really, and I'm very excited by it because it looks so, well sweater-y. It makes me feel like a real knitter or at least a more practical knitter than when I make rotund stuffed animals.
Though I am knitting an animal too... In any case. I'll post both projects as soon as they're done.