You knitters already know this, but for any woodworkers or bird watchers who might have ended up here, let me say that if you’ve never worn a pair of handmade socks, hurry up and befriend a knitter! There’s nothing better.
I finished these yesterday. The yarn is yummy Three Irish Girls Adorn Sock that I got at the Midwest Fiber and Folk Art Fair a few years ago. It sat in my stash making yarn eyes at me until I found myself in need of some crazy-colored sock yarn for a Knit-A-Long my friend and sock mentor Debi was hosting in our Raverly group. They feature Debi’s Short Row Heel with Mini-Flap and Gusset, and they’ve turned out to be the comfiest of all the comfy socks I’ve every knit! I’m not taking them off until at least the end of April.
Pablo Neruda would understand:
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
as learned men collect
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.