It feels good to start a sketchbook. To be able to draw. Doodles. Sketch. Design. Cut. Stick. Destroy. Sketchbooking was always what I most enjoyed. A book of secrets. The process of thoughts behind designs. Layers of mistakes. Seen as an aesthetic addition to the pages.
So far I have just been playing around with the noisy knitting thing. Learning to use it. Becoming friends. It is convenient. A weeks worth of hand knitting done in a mere two minutes. Automated needles. All I need to do is move my arm backwards and forwards. Taking the wool over the shiny, awaiting needles. It is not so easy however, to make a garment. The knitted world has another language, which I am yet to grasp.
Testers are filling my pages. Mainly because I cannot really work out how to do much else.
Colours. I have some disgusting colours at the moment. But it was free. No real complaint. When I start to make garments. Which I will. I will buy my own wool. With a nice quality. Tasteful colours. Pretty clothes.
I will make you all winter wrap ups. All cosy sleeves and comfort. Patterns and pretties. Plain and textured. Everything I can think of will be made, at least once.
I have the shed again. And yet to take any pictures. The knitting machine is not very photogenic. It is all metal and plastic. Industrial and ugly. I will take it down at some point. Decorate the walls inside with nostalgic pictures. Drawings and the like. Then I will take some snaps.
My lovely shed.
It's a home again.