I wish I’d known my hubby’s great aunt had been a knitter before she’d gotten ill. By the time I’d truly discovered her knitterly skills, she’d already passed away.
When she’d heard I loved knitting towards the end of her illness, she’d shown me her collection of yarns used to knit hats for the needy. Most were dime-store acrylics in the terrible pinks, yellows and blues recalling the bad yarn memories of my youth. So I looked at her collection with mild interest and our visit continued from there with no further yarn or knitting discussed.
After she passed away, her daughter gifted me a bundle of my great aunt’s handknits (apparently, she’d mentioned my knitting interest to her daughter). Some were wool, some were acrylic but all were detailed and expertly knit apparently without patterns. She’d designed these all herself—just with her old school experience.
I fell in love with one particular sweater she’d knitted. It’s become my go-to sweater on blustery days—like wearing a warm cozy blanket. It’s got subtle details, like the occasional short 2-rows of purl thrown in amidst a sea of stockinette, in a granny-chic silhouette that’s so easy to wear. I regret not learning more about my great-aunt and her knitting while I had the chance but wearing the sweater is a poignant reminder to never let such a thing happen again!