The blanket/afghan I have enclosed is very special to me. My mother, of blessed, memory, was a talented knitter as was her mother before her. I tried to learn but it didn’t “take”. I took a class with a local craftsperson and was told my gauge was entirely too tight. What was supposed to be two inches was one inch. I couldn’t dial it back enough. I couldn’t ease up.
My mother died in 1993 and I still have moments when I have the impetus to pick up the phone and call her to share my day’s activities.
She made this blanket to utilize her leftover wool. Changing colors as each skein ended created the randomness of the pattern. I imagine it was very satisfying. A stew of left-overs.