I Love Yarn. I think it takes a very cold, calloused person with a frigid soul to not appreciate, if not love, yarn. Who can resist the come-hither squishiness of a ball of yarn? Who can avoid grabbing, with child-like delight, the balls of wool and mohair? Even the synthetics like acrylic have a luscious appeal. And there is a purely magical aura to those wild yarns made with bits of silk, soy, and bamboo. Bamboo! Will wonders never cease?
When we cradle a ball or skein of yarn, the best moments of our childhood come rushing in around us like a warm bath. Balls and skeins nestle in a basket or a bin like so many easter eggs, awaiting your discovery. A favorite sweater or afghan is recalled as your nuzzle the merino wool. Hug the ball of mohair, and you are once again holding your first teddy bear or the kitten you got for your 4th birthday. Draw out the strands of novelty yarn, and you are transported to the Halloween you were a mermaid or a dinosaur. You don't have to be at all versed in fiber crafts to be captivated by the Call of the Yarn.
For those of us who do knit, felt, or crochet, the yarn has a special voice. We will spend ridiculous amounts of money on hand-spun, hand-dyed strands. When we have a unique and particularly desirable skein in front of us, we contemplate it like Michelangelo finding the form in the marble. We circle it, court it, ask it what it wants from us. We wait for the yarn to reveal its true self through color, thickness, and the ever-pressing concern of amount. We know we cannot press the yarn past what it is willing to give us. Miscalculation can lead to disaster and shame. Yes, shame, I say! For it is always upon our own shoulders when we fail to read the yarn. However, when we successfully tap into the soul of the yarn, glory abounds and beauty reigns! Magic happens. The spirit of the skein is given shape through the artist, and the sum total of comfort and happiness on Earth is increased a little.
Oh, Beauty, thy name is YARN!