KnittyPurl

Category: Knitting

  • Rhinebeck Eve: Mom Gets the Yarn, I Get the Dog 

    Well, folks, it’s that time of year again! The New York Sheep & Wool Festival at Rhinebeck is practically here, and tomorrow Mom is heading off to one of the happiest places on earth for yarn lovers everywhere.

    And guess who’s staying home?

    Yep. Me.

    While Mom gets to pack up all the yarn, head to Rhinebeck, and spend time surrounded by sheep, wool, gorgeous fiber, and fellow yarn enthusiasts, I’ll be here at home in Maine, living vicariously through photos, videos, and whatever updates she can send my way.

    Oh, and I’ll have company. Meet Dave Growl, the PeekaPoo, who has apparently decided that my lap is the most important destination in the entire house.

    Just look at that face! How am I supposed to argue with that? He’s snuggled up like he has absolutely no idea that an entire festival full of beautiful yarn is happening without me. Or maybe he knows perfectly well and is simply reminding me that I have a very important job here: providing snacks, belly rubs, and a comfortable place to nap.

    Honestly, he’s a pretty convincing argument for staying home. Almost.

    Because, let’s be real, I’d much rather be at Rhinebeck!

    There’s something magical about fiber festivals. The yarn, the colors, the creativity, the people who understand why buying just one more skein is a perfectly reasonable life decision. It’s a place where nobody looks at your stash and asks if you really need more yarn. They just ask what you’re planning to make with it!

    Mom will be there with all the Celtic Yarns inventory, representing our little yarn business and sharing our beautiful Irish yarns with festival-goers. I’m incredibly excited for her and hope she has a wonderful time. I also hope she remembers to take plenty of pictures, because I intend to inspect every booth, every skein, and every gorgeous colorway from the comfort of my couch.

    It’s not quite the same as being there, but it’s the next best thing.

    As for me, I’m still recovering from cancer treatment, and traveling to Rhinebeck just isn’t in the cards this year. It’s disappointing to miss out, especially when Mom gets to take all the yarn on an adventure without me!

    But I’m trying to look on the bright side. I get quality time with Dave Growl, I can work on my own projects, and I can start dreaming about next year.

    Rhinebeck 2027, I’m looking at you!

    Next year, I’m hoping to be back in the swing of things, feeling stronger, and ready to walk those festival grounds with Mom. Until then, I’ll be cheering her on from Maine, keeping an eye on Celtic Yarns from afar, and cuddling with my very furry assistant.

    So if you’re at Rhinebeck this weekend, stop by and say hello to Mom! Check out the beautiful Irish yarn, tell her I sent you, and maybe send a little yarn-loving energy my way.

    I’ll be here with Dave Growl, dreaming of sheep, skeins, and a whole lot of Rhinebeck magic.

    And Dave? Well, he’s dreaming about his next nap.

    Honestly, we both have our priorities.

  • Granny Stripes, Still

    You know that feeling when you start a new crochet project and imagine yourself whipping through it at lightning speed, finishing in record time, and proudly showing off your beautiful creation? Yeah, well… apparently, my crochet hook and I have some very different ideas about how quickly this blanket should be finished!

    My Stashbuster Granny Stripe Afghan, made with Caron Big Cakes yarn, is slowly but surely growing, and I couldn’t be happier with how it’s turning out. Just look at those colors! The gorgeous mix of minty greens, teal, lavender, and soft gray gives me all the cozy beach cottage vibes. It’s like crocheting a little piece of the ocean, complete with sea glass and misty coastal mornings.

    Of course, there’s one tiny complication: my fingers haven’t exactly been cooperating.

    Thanks to chemotherapy-induced neuropathy, crocheting takes a little more time and patience than it used to. My fingers sometimes have their own agenda, and unfortunately, that agenda doesn’t always include making speedy progress on granny stripes. Some days, getting through a few rows feels like a major accomplishment. Other days, I manage a little more.

    But here’s the important part: I’m still making progress!

    It might not be the kind of progress that makes a time-lapse video particularly exciting, unless you enjoy watching someone crochet three stitches, adjust their hands, take a break, and repeat. I suspect that video might not go viral. Although, honestly, we could call it The World’s Slowest Crochet Challenge and see what happens!

    The beauty of a granny stripe blanket is that I don’t have to think too hard about complicated stitch patterns. Once I find my rhythm, I can settle in, enjoy the color changes, and watch the blanket grow one little stripe at a time. The Caron Big Cakes yarn does all the color coordinating for me, which is wonderful because I have enough to keep track of without adding a complicated color chart to the mix.

    And yes, this blanket has a special purpose! I’m making it as a surprise Christmas gift for my mom. I want it to fit beautifully into our beach cottage-style home, where those soft coastal colors will look right at home draped over a chair or snuggled up on the sofa.

    That means I have a Christmas deadline, which is perhaps not the wisest decision for someone whose fingers occasionally behave like they’ve forgotten they’re supposed to be helping.

    Still, I’m determined to keep going at a pace that works for me. Recovery has taught me that progress doesn’t always happen as quickly as we’d like, and that’s okay. Sometimes progress means finishing a row. Sometimes it’s just picking up the hook again.

    So, one granny stripe at a time, this blanket is getting there. My fingers might be slow, but they’re stubborn, and I have a feeling this afghan is going to be worth every stitch.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Christmas surprise to crochet. No rushing, no racing, just yarn, a golden hook, and a whole lot of determination!

    Slow and steady wins the blanket race. 🧶💚

  • Granny Stripes and Big Cakes

    There are two kinds of crocheters in this world: those who plan every project down to the last stitch, and those of us who see a pretty ball of yarn and immediately think, Oh, I could make a blanket out of that! You can probably guess which category I fall into.

    My latest project is the Stashbuster Granny Stripe Afghan, made with Caron Big Cakes yarn in the prettiest shades of minty green, teal, soft gray, and lavender. The colors remind me of the sea, weathered beach glass, and those soft coastal shades that make a beach cottage feel like home. And that’s exactly why I chose them!

    Here’s the little secret, though: this blanket is a surprise Christmas gift for my mom! 🎁

    Our home has that cozy beach cottage style, with soft coastal colors and a relaxed, seaside feel. I thought this afghan would be the perfect addition to our decor, adding a little extra warmth while still fitting right in with the colors we love. Of course, now I have to actually finish it before Christmas, which means I might have accidentally crocheted myself a deadline. Oops!

    And this is where things get a little tricky.

    My progress has been slower than I’d like because I’m still dealing with chemotherapy-induced neuropathy. The numbness and tingling in my fingers can make crocheting a challenge, and some days my hands simply don’t cooperate the way I’d like them to. Projects that might once have flown off my hook now take a little more patience.

    But slow progress is still progress! I’m learning to take my time, work when my hands allow it, and appreciate each little bit of the blanket as it grows. The neuropathy may have slowed me down, but it certainly hasn’t taken away my love of making things with yarn.

    The granny stripe pattern is perfect for this kind of project. Once I get into the rhythm, I can settle in with my gold crochet hook and watch those gorgeous colors change from green to gray to lavender. The yarn does all the color planning for me, which is a good thing because my brain already has enough on its plate trying to remember where I put my scissors.

    I’m hoping to have this blanket finished in time to tuck it under the Christmas tree for Mom. I can already picture it draped over a chair or the sofa, looking right at home with our beach cottage decor.

    Until then, I’ll keep crocheting one granny stripe at a time. There may be a few slow days, a few tangled yarn moments, and possibly some negotiations with my fingers, but I’m determined to get there.

    After all, there’s nothing quite like giving someone a handmade gift, especially when every stitch comes with a little extra love.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Christmas deadline to meet and a blanket that isn’t going to crochet itself!

    And remember: Christmas is coming, and apparently, so is a very large pile of granny stripes. 🎄🧶

  • Running a Yarn Business in Two States

    Running a small yarn business is an adventure under the best of circumstances. Running one when your business is split between two different states? Well… let’s just say I’ve learned that yarn may be lightweight, but running a yarn company is anything but!

    Celtic Yarns is currently a two-state operation. All of our beautiful Irish yarn inventory is in Pennsylvania, while I’m up here in Maine. That might not sound too complicated until you realize that I’m also the one doing a lot of the behind-the-scenes work — editing videos, creating content, writing posts, answering questions, and trying to keep our social media accounts alive and interesting.

    Meanwhile, the yarn is hundreds of miles away.

    And let me tell you, that creates some challenges!

    One of the hardest parts is making content when you don’t physically have the inventory sitting beside you. It’s much easier to make a quick video when you can simply reach over, grab a skein of Irish Aran, hold it up to the camera, and say, “Look at this gorgeous color!”

    Instead, I’m often working with photos and videos that Mom has taken in Pennsylvania. I’m trying to remember which color is which, which yarn has already sold, what needs to be restocked, and what we need to show people next.

    It sometimes feels like I’m running a yarn shop by remote control.

    There’s also the shipping side of things. When someone places an order, the yarn isn’t sitting in a stack beside my desk in Maine waiting for me to package it. It’s in Pennsylvania, where Mom is handling the physical inventory and shipping.

    So while I’m up here editing a TikTok, she might be surrounded by boxes of beautiful Irish yarn.

    It definitely takes communication, patience, and a lot of messages back and forth. Probably more messages than either of us ever imagined when we decided to start this business!

    But despite the challenges, I really love what we’re building with Celtic Yarns. We may be operating from two different states, but we’re still working toward the same goal: bringing beautiful Irish yarn to knitters and crocheters here in the United States.

    Is it harder this way?

    Absolutely.

    Would it be easier if all the yarn and all the work happened in one place?

    Probably.

    But for now, this is our slightly chaotic, two-state yarn adventure — and somehow, we’re making it work one skein, one video, and one shipment at a time.

  • Mom Is Going to Rhinebeck Without Me

    Well, Mom is going to Rhinebeck without me this year.

    Technically, she has been going without me for years, because it has been years since I’ve been to the New York Sheep & Wool Festival. But this year feels a little different.

    This year, Celtic Yarns will be there.

    Mom will be heading to Rhinebeck with our yarn, setting up at the Dachshund Daddy Knits booth, surrounded by sheep, knitters, gorgeous sweaters, and enough yarn to make my bank account nervous just looking at pictures.

    And I will be home in Maine.

    As much as I would love to be there, I’m still recovering from cancer treatment. After chemotherapy and radiation, my body has made it abundantly clear that it would prefer I take things a little slower. Apparently, recovery is not the time to spend an entire weekend walking around a massive fiber festival, carrying bags of yarn, and convincing myself that I’m “just going to look.”

    Which, let’s be honest, was never going to happen anyway.

    I am cancer free now, and that is something I am incredibly grateful for. ❤️ But recovery takes time, and the chemotherapy-induced neuropathy has slowed me down too. It hasn’t stopped me from knitting, though. I’m still putting stitches on needles—even if those stitches occasionally take considerably longer than they used to.

    So while Mom is in Rhinebeck, I’ll be experiencing the festival from several hundred miles away through photos, videos, texts, and probably FaceTime.

    I have already mentally assigned her several jobs:

    Take pictures of the booth.

    Take pictures of the yarn.

    Take pictures of interesting sweaters.

    Take pictures of sheep.

    Show me anything remotely interesting.

    And most importantly, DO NOT BUY SOMETHING AMAZING WITHOUT SHOWING ME FIRST.

    Celtic Yarns will have our Irish Aran yarn and Sport Weight Merino, both from our wonderful 300-year-old mill in Ireland. I’m sad that I won’t be there to see everyone’s reactions to the yarn in person, but I’m also incredibly proud that our little company will be represented at such an amazing fiber festival.

    There is definitely a little FOMO involved.

    But I’m learning that recovery means celebrating what I can do instead of beating myself up over what I can’t do yet.

    So Mom gets Rhinebeck.

    I’ll be here in Maine, knitting, recovering, editing Celtic Yarns videos, and demanding live updates.

    And if she comes home with yarn that I haven’t approved of first?

    Well.

    We’ll have words.

    After all, I may be recovering from cancer, but I still have standards. 🧶😂

  • Bring on the Ber months!

    There’s just something magical about the beginning of fall. Maybe it’s the cooler mornings, the changing leaves, or the sudden urge to put approximately 47 blankets on the couch “just in case.” Whatever it is, I am here for it.

    And now we have officially entered my favorite stretch of the year: the “ber” months. September, October, November, December… otherwise known as the months when it becomes completely acceptable to wear fuzzy socks, drink ridiculous amounts of coffee, and surround yourself with enough yarn to make a small sheep nervous.

    Speaking of yarn, I am ready to knit.

    I’ve been looking forward to pulling out the cozy stuff—soft wool, squishy yarns, chunky textures, and all those gorgeous fall colors that make me want to knit absolutely everything. Deep reds, golden yellows, pumpkin oranges, forest greens… basically, if it looks like something I’d find in a pile of autumn leaves, I want it in my yarn basket.

    Of course, my knitting plans come with a bit of a disclaimer these days.

    Thanks to chemo-induced neuropathy, my hands and fingers still don’t always cooperate with my grand knitting ambitions. Sometimes they’re perfectly happy to knit. Other times they seem to have collectively decided, “Nope. We’re taking the day off.”

    So I’m learning to go slow.

    And honestly? That’s probably not the worst lesson to take into fall.

    I don’t have to finish a sweater in three days. I don’t have to crank out a dozen projects before Christmas. I can knit a few rows, put the needles down, stretch my hands, and come back to it later. There’s something rather lovely about letting a project take its time.

    Besides, knitting slowly gives me more time for the important stuff.

    Like coffee.

    A hot cup of coffee beside me, a basket of soft yarn at my feet, a good knitting project in my lap, and the crisp fall air outside? That sounds pretty close to heaven to me.

    So bring on the chilly mornings, colorful leaves, cozy blankets, steaming mugs, and ridiculously soft yarn.

    I’m easing into fall one stitch—and one cup of coffee—at a time.

  • On the Needles: Mittens, Socks, and a Fresh Cast-On

     

    Some weeks in crafting feel wonderfully full—like every project decides to bloom at once. This week brought exactly that kind of joy, with three very different knits keeping my needles clicking.

    Mittens in Merino & Siri Silk — So Close to Finished!

    First up: these cozy mittens, knit in a soft merino worsted and paired with Dachshund Daddy Knit’s Siri Silk for that extra touch of halo and depth. The fabric is plush, warm, and beautifully marled, the kind of knit that practically sighs with coziness.

    Both mittens are complete and just waiting for thumbs—the final little flourish before they become a fully finished pair. There’s something charming about seeing them sprawled out together, needles still tucked in, like they’re patiently waiting for me to return with a cup of tea and an hour to spare.

    A Finished Pair of Everyday Socks

    Next up: a cheerful, fully finished pair of Everyday Socks knit in Hedgehog Fibres sock yarn. The colors dance from stitch to stitch in bright, joyful stripes that are impossible not to smile at.

    This is the kind of yarn that makes even the simplest pattern come alive. The socks are bouncy, vibrant, and ready to slip into boots for a burst of color on winter mornings. It always feels good to bind off a project that radiates pure fun.

    A New Cast-On: Vanilla Latte Socks in Biscotte Bis-Sock

    And because one must always have a fresh sock on the needles, I cast on a new pair of Vanilla Latte socks using Biscotte Bis-Sock. The yarn is striping up beautifully already, with crisp transitions of green, red, and white that feel incredibly festive.

    There’s something especially delightful about the early rows of a new sock—small enough to finish in a single sitting, yet full of possibility. Watching the colors form tidy stripes never gets old.

    It’s been a satisfying mix of finishing, almost-finishing, and beginning again—exactly the rhythm I love in knitting. Here’s to more stitches, more color, and more cozy things to come!

  • Knitting Update: Moving Past the Yoke on the Autumn Valley Sweater

    There’s a special kind of joy that comes from watching a sweater grow on your needles—row by row, cable by cable—until suddenly, you reach a milestone moment. This week, that moment arrived: the yoke and cable section of my Autumn Valley Sweater by Drops Design is officially complete!

    This pattern’s yoke is such a satisfying blend of structure and rhythm. The cables twist and flow just enough to keep the knitting engaging without feeling overwhelming. Every few rows, I’d pause and admire how the texture caught the light—helped along beautifully by the yarn I’m using: Celtic Yarns Irish Aran in the Bluebells colorway.

    Bluebells has this gentle, heathered depth that makes cables bloom. It’s soft but sturdy, rustic yet refined—exactly the kind of yarn that transforms a classic design into something truly heirloom-worthy.

    Now that the yoke is finished, I’m happily cruising into the body section. There’s something meditative about this stage: the rhythm settles, the fabric grows more quickly, and you can finally start imagining the cozy finished sweater taking shape. I love this middle stretch of a project—the part where knitting becomes a companionable background hum to the day.

    If you’ve been thinking about casting on the Autumn Valley Sweater, consider this your sign. And if you’re looking for a yarn that makes every stitch shine, our Celtic Yarns Irish Aran might just be your new favorite.

    Stay tuned—I’ll share another update once the body is done and it’s time for sleeves

  • Slow and Steady: Knitting the Autumn Valley Sweater

    Progress on my Autumn Valley Sweater by DROPS Design has been… well, let’s just call it leisurely. The gorgeous cables are inching their way off my needles at the pace of a sleepy tortoise, and honestly, I’m okay with that.

    I’m knitting this one in Dachshund Daddy Knits Irish Aran, a wool spun in County Kerry, Ireland, with all the rustic charm and lanolin-laced warmth you could wish for. The yarn is the sort that feels like it has history—soft but sturdy, with that just-right texture that makes cables stand tall and proud. Every twist and turn of the pattern shows off the Irish character in the wool, even if my fingers are currently working at half speed.

    Thanks to chemotherapy-related neuropathy, knitting has become a bit more of an adventure. My fingertips sometimes feel like they’re wearing invisible mittens, and I occasionally drop a stitch or two (or three). But I keep reminding myself—slow progress is still progress. Each row, each careful cable cross, is a small victory.

    There’s a certain kind of mindfulness that comes with knitting through something like this. When my hands cooperate, the rhythm of the stitches feels grounding, soothing, familiar. And on the days they don’t, I just admire how far I’ve come, pet the squishy fabric, and promise the sweater we’ll get there together—eventually.

    So yes, my Autumn Valley Sweater might not be finished anytime soon. But it’s already doing its job: keeping me connected to the craft I love, one gentle stitch at a time.

  • Rhinebeck (Sort Of): How I’m Attending the Sheep & Wool Festival by Proxy

    This weekend should have smelled like wool, cider donuts, and triumph. It should have been Rhinebeck Sheep & Wool Festival weekend — the knitter’s pilgrimage, the Super Bowl of yarn, the holy grail of fleece. But alas, instead of frolicking among skeins and sheep, I’ll be attending a far less glamorous event: Chemotherapy, Session #Whatever-We’re-On-Now.

    Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for modern medicine — it’s just that oncology wards really need more yarn vendors and apple cider slushies.

    Meanwhile, my mom will be there at Rhinebeck, holding down the fort with the Dachshund Daddy Knits booth. She’ll be surrounded by walls of alpaca, Irish Aran, and enthusiastic knitters showing off their handknits. And yes, I am thrilled for her. And also wildly jealous.

    Mom promised she’d FaceTime me from the festival, which I fully plan to treat like my own personal livestream. I’ll be at home in my comfiest sweater (ironically not handknit — my fingers are still on neuropathy hiatus), sipping coffee, shouting things like, “TURN THE CAMERA! IS THAT THE MOHAIR BOOTH?!” and “GET CLOSER! I THINK I SEE A SHEEP IN A SWEATER!”

    Honestly, it’s the next best thing to being there in person. Mom’s got a good eye for yarn and a generous heart, which is dangerous — I can already hear her saying, ‘Oh, I just picked up a skein for you.’ (Translation: wishful thinking, as she will be too busy manning the booth to do much shopping, sadly.)

    So while she’s chatting with fellow fiber lovers and maybe sneaking in a cider donut or three, I’ll be cheering her on from the chemo chair. I might even wear a Rhinebeck-worthy shawl just to keep the spirit alive — because you can’t cancel cozy, even when your body’s busy fighting bigger battles.

    Next year, though? Next year I’m going. I’ll be there with bells on — or at least a really fabulous handknit.

    Until then, I’ll be living vicariously through Mom’s blurry FaceTime feed, drooling over yarn photos, and reminding myself: the wool will wait.