Scarfface // How I made my first scarf

All I have in this world is my balls and my word and I don't break them for no one.

Well, I can tell you that I wouldn't be breaking my word, my balls or my tongue if I told you that the sound of knitting needles gently touching and bumping into one another while knitting has been my Meditative Winter Background Noise. I also learnt how to knit the cable pattern and got rid of the idea of knitting a poncho. So when I decided to make a scarf, I conveniently had some unused yarn from the good ol' days of ponchos being trendy and me planning to bring out the 70's girl in me.

I put a touch of powdery-pink into the not-really-fifty-shades of grey. I swear the pink's really there, just... just take a closer look! Anyway, I kinda like things having a hidden edge (how nicely I am maneuvering myself out of the mis-positioning of this element. So smooth!). The pattern is quite irregular, it took me a while to figure out how to cross through / over the stitches, so ehm... at least it's obvious that it's handmade. And in case it looks TOO handmade, I can always blame it on my distant ten-year-old cousin who - with much much love - knitted the scarf for me for Christmas. Awww!

I have to admit that my photo-editing skills are way worse than my skills in coming up with the perfect excuse and lie about my irregularly patterned scarf. So let's just enjoy some Christmas-throwback-moments and dive into some memories of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer while taking a look at these photos shot outside in the arctic cold.

But it's tough to imagine the soft, cinnamon-scented Christmas warmth, when all you want is spring to come, right? When I see a ray of sunshine these days, I am tempted to get lower on layers and I already expect to be woken up by sunshine shyly entering my room through the windows. And I end up heartbroken when the sun outside is still the half-sun, something that doesn't warm me or the world and definitely will not prevent your limbs and fingers from getting frostbites when spending more than two seconds outdoors.*

I guess this is why I have two new years. My year begins in spring, another restart is in September. I guess that's why I am so desperately longing for the sun, The Sun, the real one, the warm one, the one that brings new beginnings, new opportunities, new days not framed by darkness. Until then, just the weak rays of sun will have to be enough.

Every day - after I leave the tram - my feet subconsciously stop the rhythm of walking and begin to run. My throat hurts from this long sprint that lasts until I am in front of my home. Several times I have almost slipped on the invisible layer of ice on the streets. And I bet I'm also a strange sight to see - the girl in a business skirt, laptop hanging from her shoulder and running for her life. I wish I could not just sprint towards home, but as well towards spring.
And until that comes, I shall continue making some music with my knitting needles.

And practice the patterns until they are perfect. (And probably hire some kid to act as my clumsy cousin until they are).

*No limbs were lost while taking the photographs in the article.