September is a tough time of year: it's not still summer but not yet autumn. The weather vacillates between cool and too hot. The garden looks like hell because parts of the summer were too hot (and our outdoor plumbing never got fixed), but it's too early to cut everything back and pretend that we're ready for winter. And psychologically, September is always a time of tension: the hope and anxiety of the new. Starting school in September has imprinted on me even though years and years and years have gone by since I needed to face new teachers, new classrooms, new classmates. It's still a trigger-time for change and the anxiety that goes with it.
But in the midst of all this, knitting goes on (isn't that remarkable???)
Since being seduced by socks, I've made two pairs of socks and am working on a third (for my husband). Although I just turned the heel on the first sock of this pair, I'm already thinking ahead to socks yet unknit: cabled socks, lace socks, textured socks. This is all part of my obsessive nature: the need to collect, amass, organize, collate.
I'm already lining up yarn that wants to be made into socks, and I haven't yet hit weather that's cold enough for me to wear the socks that I've already made (and how do I know, yet, that I even want to have handknit socks on my feet?). But I need/want to make them. Which is the life of a knitter.