Coming unraveled.

Four weeks ago, I saw a knitting pattern that sang to me. It trilled, "beautiful design," "you already have enough yarn in your stash," and "it'll look fabulous on you."

I began knitting.

Indeed, the pattern was a pleasure. There was minimal seaming, the yarn draped beautifully, and the instructions were very easy to follow. I was on gauge, and tried on each section as I went to make sure the fit was correct.

Last weekend I finished it ... put it on ... looked in the mirror ... and winced.

It looked dreadful. The proportion of shoulder to sleeve made me look like a linebacker. Since that was the very last section I knitted, this revelation wasn't apparent until the very end.

So I unraveled it. Four weeks of knitting tinked and wound back into balls. 2300 yards of yarn back into the stash. The yarn is just too darned special to waste on something I don't like.

My daughter was horrified. "Mom, you worked on that HOURS and hours. How could you just take it apart?"

Because as much as I love wellmade knitwear, I enjoy the process of knitting even more. I don't consider the four weeks a waste of time. I now know the yarn will knit into something lovely. And that the shoulder line of the pattern I knit isn't right for me. So I won't choose in the future a pattern with that particular design.

Unraveling a knit project isn't the same as coming unraveled.

I am at peace with my knitting.