Raspberry Swirl achieved

Are you one of the many, many knitters who know about the magic of Wollmeise? That mysterious yarn of many plies, which has colours so vibrant they make people want to hoard a skein (or ten) of every colour, hue and shade?

Or are you one of the many who couldn't care less about that overpriced, cottony-feeling German yarn with the unpronounceable name?
Or worse, have you never even heard of Wollmeise?I admit, I got sucked in. There is something magical about the hype, about the colours, about the everything.You can't just *buy* Wollmeise. You have to be in the know. When this indie dyer updaters her website, you'd better be quick, or everything will be gone.

I had to try it.
And I scored the most glowing skein of pink, pink yarn. now what to do with it?
It didn't seem right to just knit any old thing with this magical yarn.
So I tried to find a pattern that would show off the yarn's beauty.

Being still reasonably new to sock knitting, I finally settled on a pattern just about head-high out of reach: Wendy Johnson's Bob and Weave socks, a gloriously complex pattern of twisted stitches.

It took *forever*.

I figured out that these twisted stitches and tiny cable crosses really didn't like being corssed without a cable needle. So I ended up using a locking stitch marker to hold and cross the many, many crossed stitches.

And then, one magical day, they were done.
And they were perfect.
The yarn, the pattern, the colour, the everything.But these socks are perhaps a little too rpecious. What if I wear a hole in their 100% wool goodness? What if I snag them, or felt them, or stain them?

So after months of painstakingly knitting the most glorious pair of socks, I'm not sure they'll ever leave the house.

They sure look good on my feet while I sit at the computer though.