I took this picture home with me from the grocery store because I do not know what I’d do with a radish. Yes, I am the kind of person who photographs produce with the camera on my phone and keeps you from reaching that crisp head of romaine you’ve got your eyes on.
Radishes are a lot like yarn in my world. I saw these scarlet beauties, and I needed to have them, if only as a digital file. Because I would never give up the valuable real estate in a salad that could be occupied by a cherry tomato or a chunk of ripe avocado to a radish and because they’d only sit pretty on my counter until toted out to the compost pile, they had their picture taken in situ. Maybe I should rename my stash “my yarn compost pile.”
I’m learning that people who buy yarn, generally speaking, may be placed into one of two capacious categories. Before I go on, this disclaimer: they’re both good. No one will judge you if you read on and say, “Oh, yeah, that’s 100% me all over” or “That is so not me.” I think we tend to play more on one team than the other, though, and it may be time I switched sides. Change is good, and I am, after all, taking pictures of vegetables at the supermarket.
One group buys yarn only after a project presents itself. One group buys yarn before the matching project arrives on the scene, and that would be me. I bond instantly with a yarn and give little thought to what will come next. Will that yarn find its way onto needles and my Ravelry project page before more arrives? Don’t count on it. I’ve just found out there’s an acronym for stashes like mine: A.B.L.E. – “amassed beyond life expectancy.”
Maybe I should try loading up my camera’s memory card at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival next month instead of the usual sixteen shopping bags. Maybe. I’ll let you know how that goes.