Note: An abbreviated draft of this essay first appeared in my newsletter.

Not a lot of people know this about me, but my experience with textiles is pretty vast. When I was a child, I learned how to spin wool into yarn with a drop spindle. I’ve woven cloth on a Louet loom. I’ve done needlepoint and crochet.

When I was in college, I paid my bills working as a seamstress at an alterations shop. I also made costumes for the university theater department. There was a time in my life when I designed and made most of my own clothes.

But one of my longest-loved skills is knitting.

Fiber arts run in my family. My great-grand mother in Poland was skilled at crochet and would make elaborate curtains and table cloths. My other great-grandmother in Poland would make socks, hats, and down blankets. My mother taught me how to knit when I was ten years old. 

My mom is a very skilled knitter in her own right. Growing up in communist Poland, it was hard for her to get new styles of clothes, so my mom would up-cycle old sweaters by unraveling them for the yarn and knitting them into a new outfit. At her peak, she could knit an entire sweater in a four-day weekend. Then, when she was bored of that sweater, she would unravel it and knit another one.

When she came to America, she continued knitting clothes for herself and her children.

My first project was a sampler blanket knitted with multi-colored cotton and metal needles. I remember how proud I was as I completed every square. My first squares were misshapen and full of holes and ladders from dropped stitches. But with every swatch completed, my knitting became more even. It thrilled me to see this project grow in tiny increments, how I could build something larger by crafting one small piece at a time.

When I was in 5th grade, I entered a Montessori school, where knitting was part of the curriculum. We would sit in a circle and knit while our teacher read aloud to us. Knitting was a way to practice our fine-motor coordination. It also kept our hands occupied while our teacher read to us — instead of poking each other or picking our noses.

I remember we all used acrylic yarn and straight size 9 metal needles. We kept our knitting projects in pillowcases in our cubbies.

Pretty much everyone at the Montessori could only knit garter-stitch scarves. I had come into the Montessori already knowing how to knit, so I took on more challenging stitch patterns and projects, like stuffed animals and sweaters.

I had learned Polish-style continental knitting (which is sometimes called “combination knitting”), which is faster and more ergonomic than English-style knitting. And its purls are simpler and faster than either German or Norwegian-style continental knitting. Polish/Slavic combination continental is still my preferred style of knitting. But by the time I was in 6th grade, I had also taught myself to knit English-style, left-handed and right-handed, and I could knit without looking at my hands at all — a very important skill if you want to knit in front of the TV. I was one of the kids the teachers would send down to the lower grade classroom to teach the first-graders how to knit.

I continued to knit throughout junior high, high school, and college. I most often knit while listening to an audiobook or sitting in front of the TV. I’d knit when traveling. And when my teachers would let me, I would sometimes knit in class—occasionally pausing to take notes on the lectures.

But despite many years of enjoyment, I gave up knitting for about a decade. I was so certain I would never knit again that I gave away all my needles and yarn.

The reason I gave up knitting came down to this simple question: Is knitting a waste of time?

A Brief History of Knitting

You might be wondering how knitting and storytelling are related, but in cultures with a long knitting tradition, there is often storytelling woven into every stitch. For a fascinating history lesson on the history of knitting, check out Liz Kristan’s YouTube lecture on the history of knitting and Shannon Makes’ YouTube video on the history of knitting in wartime knitting and espionage.

Here are some of the highlights:

An early form of knitting began in Egypt during the 11th century. However, there are some examples of knitted socks in the Middle East dating back as early as the 3rd century. Knitting as we know it came to Europe via Muslim knitters employed by the royal families of Spain.

Then, with colonial expansion, knitting quickly spread throughout the rest of the world starting in the 1500s. At first, knitting was restricted to knitting guilds, the leisure class, or only to men. But all around the world it gained more widespread popularity during the 1800s. Each region developed its own distinctive style.

In British Columbia, Cowichan knitting was known for its thick, bulky yarn.

In Japan, knitting started as a popular pastime among the samurai class. The knitting patterns from Japan are floral-inspired and acrobatic to execute, with short-rows, and light-weight materials that are excellent for warm weather.

In South America, the Andean Chullo hats are famous for their distinctive ear flaps.

The knitting gilds in England and Scotland helped that area specialize into many styles of lace and patterning. The Argyle sweater and sock patterns are inspired by the tartan weave of Western Scotland. Shetland lace shawls were once more valuable than gold.

In the British Aisles, In the fishing communities of the British Isles, the patterns knitted into the Gansey (sometimes spelled Guernsey), Aran, Argyle, and Fair Isle sweaters were highly specific to regions and favorite patterns and techniques were often shared within the community. The knitting guilds in these areas were also part of a social program to help raise people out of poverty.

In Nordic and Scandinavian knitting and Icelandic Lopapeysa, their round yoke, monochromatic color schemes, and snowflake patterns are inspired by the natural beauty of their snowy landscapes.

​Latvian mittens were ceremonial items, most notably used in weddings. The patterns were highly symbolic and were so intricate that a single mitten could take as long as a year to complete.

Currently, the popularity of knitting waxes and wanes, depending on the economy. It is a relatively cheap hobby so it tends to become more popular during times of economic hardship.

During the 2000s, there was a resurgence of knitting interest among twenty and thirty-somethings with Debbie Stoller’s Stitch’n Bitch series. The 2008 recession also increased interest in DIY culture. Etsy, Ravelry, and YouTube knitting tutorials have made knitting even more accessible. Most recently, the coronavirus pandemic has created another surge in knitting interest. Forbes magazine estimates that 45 million Americans know how to knit or crochet, and these continue to be an incredibly popular hobbies, worldwide.

Is Knitting a Waste of Time and Money?

One of the challenges I’ve had with sewing and knitting my own clothes is that factory production has made this age-old activity basically worthless.

In material terms, buying a sweater and knitting a sweater costs about the same. An acrylic sweater can be knitted for as little as $20 in materials. But that doesn’t factor in the hourly labor of designing and knitting. In practical terms, it takes most knitters 20-100 hours to make a sweater, depending on the complexity. This means a hand-knit sweater would cost at least $300 in skilled labor if you were paying California minimum wage. 

Wouldn’t that time have been better spent doing something that would earn more money?

One of the curious things I noticed about people who sew professionally is that once making clothes became their day job, almost none of them sewed or designed their own clothes for fun anymore. They only wear store-brought clothes, because the economics doesn’t make sense anymore.

If the goal is to clothe yourself, than buying a machine-made garment is cheaper.

If the goal is the enjoyment of the knitting process, than the garment is merely a byproduct of time spent with an enjoyable hobby.

Is knitting anti-feminist/ Is knitting only for women?

Of course not!

First of all, you should understand that both men and women knit. Fishermen knit their nets and men were the master craftsmen in charge of the knitting guilds. Soldiers would knit socks while they waited for battle. In the 1600s, many samurai took up knitting to supplement their income. The knitting community is once again growing among men because they too enjoy the sense of community and accomplishment that knitting can give them.

My understanding of feminism is that it should be about people having the freedom to pursue their interests, regardless of their gender, orientation, or sex.

My mom taught both my brother and me how to knit, but I’m the one who really took to it. Similarly, she provided both my brother and me with piano and music lessons. I never fell in love with playing music, but my brother did and music has become both his passion and his career.

You just never know what will speak to a person unless you let them try it.

If a person wants to pursue activities in the “male” sphere, they should be free to do so. If a person wants to pursue interests in the “female” sphere, they should feel free to do so, without judgment or guilt.

So long as you’re not hurting yourself or anybody else, do what you want. 

I was assigned female at birth. I identify as female and use she/her pronouns. That didn’t stop me from being an athlete in high school. (I was a three-time junior olympian in foil fencing.) I still enjoy sports. Currently, I run and lift weights—even though free-weights are typically thought of as a “male” form of exercise.

I like knitting and sports—both. I feel that it’s my prerogative to pursue my interests. I don’t feel like this is a contradiction to my gender identity, but rather an expression of me as a whole person.

Is making clothes just producing more garbage?

When I was sewing clothes, I was astonished at how much waste I produced. Cutting curved objects (clothing patterns) out of a rectangle yard of fabric leaves behind a lot of scrap material. I used recycled and discarded fabric, and I tried my hardest to arrange the pattern pieces to use minimal fabric. I saved and re-used scraps of fabric in smaller projects as much as I could. But there was still a lot of waste in making custom-clothes.

Theoretically, factory assemblies waste less material because of the economy of scale.

The problem with the fashion industry is that we produce more clothes than we actually wear. If you haven’t yet, I urge all of you to check out the documentary The True Cost, which is about how fashion is one of the most polluting industries. It’s right up there with oil, transportation, and animal agriculture. Most people don’t even wear their clothes 30 times before throwing them away.

According to this Future Proof video, the average garment is only worn an average of seven times! (Granted, there is some trial-and-error involved in figuring out one’s preferences and personal style, but still!…) “Fast fashion” is destroying the environment, putting us in debt, and literally burying us in trash.

It is high time we become more mindful of our clothes at every stage—how it is produced, whether it is something that fits and will last a long time, and how the materials are recycled or composted. Slow-fashion is a much better path.

I actually think that out of all the fiber arts, knitting and crochet are the most environmentally sustainable. Knitting is the opposite of fast fashion. It is as slow as it comes.

You can choose materials that are low impact and which you know will eventually compost. Plant-based fibers are the lowest-impact. But even among these, there are some plants that require less water, land, pesticides, processing, dyes. There is tremendous amount of innovation happening in plant-based fibers right now, producing yarn from coconut, bamboo, mushrooms, cellulose… you name it. Do your research.

Animal fibers tend to have a lower carbon footprint than synthetics at every stage, and some animals do less destruction to the environment than others. However, there are ethical concerns about how animals are treated and whether there is such a thing as “cruelty-free yarn.” Sheering practices can be cruel and painful, and animals are slaughtered once they no longer produce at a certain level. Again, do your research.

Synthetic yarns are cheap, warm, resilient, insect-resistant, and highly versatile. However, they tend to have the highest environmental impact to produce and they don’t decompose as well as natural fibers. Then again, a well-knit polyester sweater could last 50 years and be worn by multiple generations. To offset their carbon footprint, many big brands have begun selling yarn made from recycled materials.

Plenty of people unravel thrift store sweaters to get their yarn. This is probably the cheapest and most sustainable way to get yarn. Check out a video of this retired gentleman, who buys used high-quality cashmere sweaters at a thrift store and then unwinds the yarn so he can give them a new life. I also liked this video, which talks about sanitizing the yarn and what to do if you discover that a factory-made sweater is woven with two strands, which can be tricky to unravel.

If you are intentional with your math, you can knit whatever you need without a lot of wasted yarn. Many knitters will even save those little scraps at the end to produce small projects as Christmas gifts: washcloths, mittens, hats, socks, scarves, dog sweaters.

When you knit a piece of clothing, you are basically creating a high-quality custom-garment that is made specifically to last a long time and be worn a lot. A carefully produced hand-knit sweater should last a person at least five years of daily wear. It’s better to have a small number of garments that you love a lot and wear every day than to have a whole pile of unused clothes.

Project 333 can help give you ideas for putting together winter and summer clothing capsules so that you learn how to do more with less.

Personally, I tend to choose a silhouette and color scheme I like a lot, and then I build myself a daily uniform from there. In an average week, I basically rotate between 7 shirts, 5 pullover sweaters, 3 jeans, and 3 shoes. I have a summer wardrobe, a winter wardrobe, and exercise clothes. That’s it. Pretty simple. Every five years or so, the wardrobe gets an update.

For me, it’s fun to look at old photographs and reminisce about my favorite outfits. During my early 20s, I wore a-line summer dresses that I made myself. In my late 20s, I wore skirts with leggings and cardigans. In my early thirties, I wore jeans and plaid shirts. In my late thirties, I wore jeans and striped shirts. Now I’m gravitating more toward dark, solid colors and I’m excited about the idea of making myself some tunic length sweater-dresses with pockets.

But let’s say you are a knitter who has already made cherished sweaters for yourself and your immediate family… What then? 

You could sell your knit projects and recoup some of your costs. You can unravel a sweater you already own and knit another one in a slightly different style. Or you could volunteer your knitting services at a hospital, knitting hats, socks, and baby blankets.

Why I Started Knitting Again

A few years ago, I declared I was done with knitting. Never going to knit again. I’m already doing so many things that feel intrinsically valuable, but which are considered valueless wastes if time by the capitalist machine. Cooking at home. Childrearing. Writing. Running. Learning a language.

But I recently started knitting again, because I missed it.

If the goal is just to clothe yourself, then buying factory-made and/or thrift store clothes makes the most sense. Mostly, knitting, and sewing one’s own clothes is a leisure activity.

And that’s okay.

Knitting has always been a source of joy for me. There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a ball of yarn transform into a piece of fabric, stitch by stitch. The rhythm of the needles and the soft texture of the yarn create a meditative state, allowing me to unwind and focus on the present moment. Each project is a unique creation, a tangible result of my time and effort. Whether it’s a cozy scarf or a detailed sweater, the end product always brings a sense of accomplishment and pride.

I have certainly gotten carried away with my knitting — using it as procrastination when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I’ve overdone it to where my wrists became inflamed, my hands cramped and my fingers went numb. But mostly, knitting is something I do during moments of peace… in waiting rooms, while watching TV, while commuting by train, or while spending time with friends or family.

It’s important not to give myself a deadline for my projects, so that knitting feels relaxing, rather than rushed. I enjoy projects that I can pick up and put down easily. I take meticulous notes so that I can quickly remind myself of where I left off. I like knitting in the round on circular needles because then I don’t have that “I have to get to the end of the row!” mantra going through my head.

During times of stress, I tend to develop anxiety lite symptoms: pacing, face-picking, doom-scrolling, hypergraphia, future-tripping, insomnia. Occasionally, a panic attack. Knitting forces me to sit, count stitches, and calm my ass down. 

Daily exercise also calms me down. I need both. I need to exert energy to burn off the excess, and I need something that gives me permission to rest.

Knitting may not make sense economically on an hour-by-hour basis, but its value extends far beyond the financial. It’s a productive outlet for my fidgeting, a social activity, a way to create meaningful gifts, and a practice in mindfulness. By embracing these aspects, I’ve found that knitting is far from a waste of time—it’s a deeply rewarding and enriching hobby.

Knitting as Meditation Practice

Many people have researched the calming, therapeutic aspects of knitting from recovering from trauma, to managing anxiety or depression, to quitting smoking, to quitting substance abuse. Knit for Peace has done research on the many health benefits of knitting.

For some, knitting is their preferred form of meditation.

“Knitting is a process craft. Anyone who sets out to knit with the sole objective of wearing the finished work will soon be disappointed. If the finished piece were the sole aim, one would purchase a mass-produced garment at a local mall for a fraction of the cost and time required to make a sweater. The true joy comes from discovering the individual beauty of each segment, the feeling of accomplishment when completing a particularly difficult section, and the sense of challenge that lurks as you plan the next project. In other words, knitting is like life. We have to enjoy the journey if we expect the destination to mean much. 

“Best of all, knitting is slow. So slow that we see the beauty inherent in every tiny act that makes up a sweater. So slow that we know the project’s not going to get finished today—it may not get finished for many months or longer—and thus, we make our peace with the unresolved nature of life. We slow down as we knit. Our breathing and heart rate drop and knitters who’ve been at it a while experience a trancelike state that provides the same benefits as other forms of meditation. 

“Unlike other forms of meditation, though, when all is said and done, knitting produces a beautiful, handcrafted, wearable work of art. Each garment reflects its unique moment in time and is a singular in its construction as the person who knit it—an image of the creator’s spirit.”

— “Zen and the art of knitting,” by Bernadette Murphy

Later in her book, she states:

“There are two basic steps necessary to evoke this relaxation response, steps that [Dr. Herbert Benson, founding president of the Mind/Body Medical Institute at Harvard Medical School] found to be present in almost every culture around the globe. The first is the repetition of a sound, phrase, or prayer. (This, by extension, includes the repetition of an activity, like making a knitting stitch.) The second is the passive setting aside of intruding thoughts and returning to the repetition.”

“Zen and the Art of Knitting,” by Burnadette Murphy

Meditative knitters can heighten their knitting experience in some of the following ways.

• Knitting as Loving-Kindness Meditation — Knit something for a loved one, someone with whom you have a challenging relationship, or someone who you know is suffering. Think about that person as you knit, and try to focus on them feeling loved, healthy, or at peace.
• Knitting as Zen meditation — Zen meditation usually takes the form of focused attention on something: a candle, a mantra, counting, or the breath. Knitting can become a Zen meditation when you take on a complicated pattern that requires focus and active attention. Projects with cables, eyelets, color-work, or a guernsey or aran sweater with decorative stitching. These are projects where you actually have to pay attention to what you are doing, but the repetitive nature of it can also harness and focus your mind. This feeling can be enhanced by saying a prayer with every stitch.
• Focused knitting as anxiety, depression, or pain management — Choosing a complicated pattern where you have to count stitches can help distract you from anxiety or pain by giving you something to focus on. A repetitive pattern, like a moss stitch, or a basket-weave stitch, can focus your mind and your breath. Breathe in for four stitches, breathe out for four stitches.
• Knitting as gentle receptivity — Most experienced knitters usually have several projects going. They have an active project where they have to focus on counting, and they have a passive project which doesn’t require a lot of concentration. These passive projects (like blankets, scarves, or simple sweaters) usually involve long repetitive rows of the same type of stitch. Garter, stockinette, ribbing, or rice stitch are good ones. The pattern, the clicking of needles, and the repetitive motion can become hypnotic, but it doesn’t require too much of your brain to do it. You can knit this type of project while chatting with friends and family.
• Knitting as problem-solving — There is a form of meditation where you are focused on a problem in your life while working on a specific task. For example, a heartbreak-sweater or a grief blanket. After a relationship ends, you can think about that person, what they gave you, what you learned, what you hated, and process those emotions. Use the project as an opportunity set time aside for reflecting on and healing whatever issue you are dealing with. What do you do with the completed project? It’s up to you: unravel it, give it away, start over, give it to the person who broke up with you as a testament to lessons learned.
• Knitting as social outlet — Humans are social animals. It is incredibly important for our physical and emotional health to have a community. Knitting communities can be found online, at yarn stores, in libraries, and at bookstores and cafes. This is an intergenerational activity where experienced knitters are often overjoyed to share their skills. One of the neat things about knitting is that the group might start out talking about the craft, but inevitably they might open up and become more vulnerable. Knitting lends itself really well to talking and sharing what is in your heart because eye contact is optional, and talking is optional.
• Knitting for charity — One of the best ways to get out of your own head is to do something for someone else. The website KnittingForCharity.com can help you find a charity organization that you can knit for.

AN IMPORTANT CAVEAT: While arts and crafts have many therapeutic benefits, knitting is essentially a repetitive, sedentary activity. (Although it is possible to knit while standing, walking, or even running.) It’s important to work with good lighting, to take frequent breaks to stretch, and to not spend too many hours knitting. A good rule of thumb is to take a break every 30 minutes to stretch and move around, and don’t knit for more than four hours in a day. If your aim is to use knitting for therapeutic purposes, please consult with your doctor.

Embracing My Knitting Preferences

Since returning to knitting, I’ve been thinking about my personal preferences and how I can make this hobby more enjoyable for myself. Since I’m already experienced, I have some idea of the types of tools and projects I like.

I wanted to share some videos I found helpful in reflecting on my relationship with knitting, my preferences, frustrations, why I quit, and what I hope to get out of my knitting practice:

What type of knitter are you? — Choosing projects you like has a major impact on your enjoyment. I am a process knitter, but I also really enjoy the challenge of designing and creating my own patterns. I also like learning new techniques. I tend to only work on one project at a time and work on it constantly from start-to-finish. But if I’m knitting gifts for others, I set aside a project for myself in order to prioritize the gift. I definitely see the appeal of having two projects going at a time: a challenge pattern for focus, and a simple pattern for relaxation.

Feeling Stuck? 12 Things I Wish I Knew When I Started Knitting — Mistakes are common, so it’s important to not be perfectionistic and embrace the imperfections as part of your learning process.

20 Things I Wish I Knew When I Started Knitting — There are many ways to go about completing a project. When you understand the big picture of knitting, the math, the diagrams, and what is happening in the interaction between tension, needles, and yarn, you can come up with alternate ways of doing things that fit your style.

Here are some of my preferences that I’ve developed after 20 years of knitting.

The needles — I prefer bamboo circular needles. Bamboo is lightweight, warm to the touch, it grips the stitches well, and it doesn’t make a loud clacking sound, which I find irritating. For knitting small things in the round, the magic loop method. My knitting tends to be rather loose, so I usually have to knit on smaller needles to get my preferred weave. I prefer projects that use mid-sized needles, no smaller than 2 and no larger than 10. I currently only own bamboo needles, but if I were to start knitting with scratchier yarn, I wouldn’t be opposed to getting a metal set.

The yarn — Knitting is a very tactile art, and the feeling of the yarn on your fingers tends to have a bigger impact on your knitting experience than the colors do. That being said, I am not a yarn snob. I don’t hoard yarn. I’m hard on my clothes, and I don’t like working with materials that are too precious or expensive for everyday living. I prefer DK and worsted weight medium yarn, but I will go up or down a size if the pattern calls for it. I like the practicality of synthetics, the warmth of wool, alpaca, and cashmere (so long as it has been ethically and humanely harvested), and the cooling feel of bamboo and cotton. I make my choices on a project-by-project basis. I try my best to research my yarn before I buy and balance the dilemmas of practicality, ethics, environmental impact, and price. I also try to plan my projects to have complimentary materials and color schemes so that I can combine and re-use leftover yarns to have as little waste as possible.

The projects — A stated earlier, I usually only work on one project at a time. However, it’s not uncommon for me to have two projects on needles going at a time: a simple project and a challenge project, where I’m learning a new technique. I like making sweaters, shirts, dresses, scarves, blankets, and hats. Washcloths and towel samplers are also fun. Sometimes I’ll just knit swatches if the goal is to learn a new technique or stitch design. With clothes, I like knitting in the round so that I can try garments on as I go and there is very little sewing. I prefer knitting for myself and my family. Despite many years of knitting, I’d basically call myself an intermediate knitter because there are a lot of techniques I’m still interested in learning: how to get a better fit, short rows, intarsia, color-work, lace, more complex cables, brioche, improved designing.

The patterns — I have enough experience knitting that I understand the underlying logic for how it works. I look at patterns the same way an experienced chef looks at recipes: they are more of a suggestion than holy writ. I like to I look through pattern books for inspiration, but about eighty percent of the time I usually end up creating my own pattern by combining various techniques and doing my own math. That being said, I love learning new things and if I’m learning something new and technical, then I like to have a pattern to coach me along. I love all the knitting tutorials on YouTube! This was not available when I first started knitting. It is so much easier to learn from a video than from a book! I prefer using ebooks and PDF patterns, because then I can reference them on my phone. Most often, though, I copy out a pattern into my Bullet Journal so that it is easier for me to take notes and make changes as I go.

The math — Knitting involves a lot of math. Because I always substitute different yarn and needles than what the pattern recommends, I have had to get good at understanding how to do my own math. Here is my process:

1. First, I make a BIG swatch by casting on 40-80 stitches. The larger the swatch, the more accurate the math will be. If the project requires some fancy stitches which might compress or stretch the knitting (like cables, lace, or color-work) then I make sure to knit that design into the swatch. My knit and purl stitches are even, so I don’t need to do anything special when knitting in the round. I then knit the swatch to be long enough to be and accurate sample (usually 4-8 inches) and then I bind off.
2. I wash the swatch the way I will wash the finished garment. Washing is an important step because it helps the yarn bloom and relax, which might change the sizing. Synthetics usually don’t change much, but animal fibers sometimes shrink and plant fibers (like bamboo) stretch A LOT. This can have a major effect on the size of the finished piece.
3. I block my swatch and use my cloth tape measure to measure the dimensions of the swatch. I then divide those numbers by my number of stitches and rows I made to attain the swatch. The goal is to find how many stitches per inch, and how many rows per inch for a given yarn and needle-size. It’s important to know measurements down to the fraction of a stitch because when you start casting 250-400 stitches, those fractional stitches can create a cascading math error.
4. Once I know my stitches and rows per inch, then I can figure out the rest of the pattern and start knitting.
5. Every 2-4 inches, I check my measurements to make sure I’m hitting my benchmarks. If I’m not, then I unravel and start over with my newer, more accurate numbers. It’s not uncommon for me to have to restart a project once or twice at the beginning. But once I have my math right, everything usually proceeds smoothly.

Storage — I have a Takumi set of interchangeable needles and another full set of fixed cable needles that I keep in a zippered pencil case. (Yes, I use all of them.) A simple accordion file could work for this as well. I also keep the labels that come with the yarn in a ziplock bag, so that I can reference gauge and washing instructions. I sometimes yarn in plastic bags to keep the dust off. I use paper clips as stitch markers, but I also have a set of pear-shaped stitch markers I like. I store them in pill bottles. I store tapestry needles in pill bottles as well. I have a neck light, which is incredibly helpful for working with dark colors. As you can see in the photo below, my entire knitting supply fits in one small bin, which I can tuck away to keep dust off the yarn. My travel system is to just keep whatever project I’m currently working on in a large purse. I keep reference materials on my phone, and I plan patterns and take notes with a Bullet Journal.

Thanks for reading this long, rambling blog post on the role knitting has played in my life. If you would like to sign up for my newsletter, you will receive a free short story, and get monthly updates on book reviews and my works in progress.