bad case of the greys

Do not expect the world to look bright, if you habitually wear gray-brown glasses.
Charles W. Eliot

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love Oregon. I do. The landscape is as indescribable and varied as the people who live here. I just can’t stand the winters in Eugene. They’re so grey. So grey that all I want to do is sleep. So grey that I begin to forget bright colours like jade and cerulean and fuscia exist. So grey that lethagia becomes the defining word of my existence from November through April every single year.

Today, I finally understood the Norwegian tradition of knitting bright sweaters as I looked out the window whilst holding the brilliant purple mittens and hat I made for Dulaan. Suddenly, I wanted a pair of bright purple mittens.

Colour is the only refuge in this world of grey.

I feel guilty. Because beige and chocolate brown and black wool can’t tempt me. Because I have a half dozen UFO’s from the realm of neutrals – like my Mum’s birthday shawl. I just can’t bring myself to work on it and with that beige yarn right now. I kept lying to myself, claiming that I was knit-out on lace. I had done too much lace too recently.

No. Definitely not. The fact that I sat down last night and designed (not one!, but) 3 different lace stoles, and cast on one of them with that baby pink alpaca I’ve been coveting for so long, forces me to admit the truth.

I really wish Mum would let me dye her shawl. I just can’t bear to look at it. I can’t. I feel smothered when I try and work on it. I’m going to have to just grit my teeth and do it. It’s already 3 months late, and that’s embarassing enough on it’s own.

Especially when one takes this into consideration:

The baby pink alpaca stole.

*le sigh* It’s bright pink and I’m knitting it on key lime green needles and it has snowdrops and cat’s paws and all sorts of other pretty things. Not 3 dots and a world of beige. In the end, we know which one will win my vote. But, since the beige isn’t for me, I need to finish it.

I wonder: if I leave out a bowl of milk will some knitting elves will come along and finish the border for me?

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