Knitting with Plume is a bit of a contradiction.
The stuff feels absolutely wonderful. Seriously, it’s the knitting equivalent of petting kittens. You have to stop yourself from saying “ahh” all time. I don’t understand how it feels cool to the touch–the stuff is room temperature–but I’d wager you would brush it up against the back of your neck in a heatwave and feel a breeze. Bathrobes should be made of this. Slippers should be made of this. Hospital waiting rooms should be made of this. It’s tactile calm.
Knitting with it kind of sucks all the calm right out of it, however. The control freak in me wants the fur to lay perfectly within the stitches, not get all caught up in tangles. I keep picking at it, trying to make it lie down the way I want it to, fussing with the strands when I should just be enjoying the smooth, silky feeling. I feel more like I’m making a puppet than I’m knitting a cowl.
I’m not puppeteering. I realize this is just the trim, and that its companion fiber will take this from stuffed animal to accessory. The colors really are stunning, and I have no doubt that this will be one of those accessories where people will continually come up and ask to touch it. At a booksigning or bookfair, this will be superb wearable marketing–a real conversation starter.
I’m following Prism’s advice and tucking my wandering ball of Plume–so prone to unwinding–into a ziplock sandwich bag with just a tiny opening for the working thread. Sure, it looks like I’ve just caught a pretty teal kitten, but at least I’ve got my fiber under control.
Stay tuned for the next segment, when I add the continually changing “Stuff” to the project.