I admit it.

Ok, It’s not a swatch.
It is, without a doubt, a full fledged Snowdrop Shawl, finished just in time for the snowdrops to bloom here in Toronto. It turns out that the mohair thing was a one night stand, sort of like going out dancing, but still coming home to make pancakes in the morning. I finished last night, and had the infinite pleasure of blocking lace.
I am, for the record, a “soaker” and a “pinner”. For me, there is no greater knitterly magic trick than taking a grotty, tangled wet knot of yarn and gently bending it to your will, pin by pin, moment by moment…while delicate gossamer lace emerges. I know there are varying schools of thought on this, and I know that somebody is going to tell me about blocking wires. I know of blocking wires, and I swing wildly between desperately coveting them, and frowning in their general direction. I am now, and will forevermore be a “soaker”, and there is no point in trying to convince me that I should dampen or mist things during the blocking process. I believe in the full immersion method, I have come to believe that it more deeply convinces the fibre of my intentions. I think that being a soaker might mean that I frown on blocking wires, since I imagine that threading the wires through a wet shawl might be as much fun as licking cactus. Since I don’t own blocking wires…the point is moot.
Laura A. asked in the comments how I’m going to wear this. Well…I’m not. It’s a gift for a friend. Almost three years ago I had the honour of being the first person to touch her son, and sometime in the next few weeks she is going to deliver a daughter into my hands. Since this daughter is going to be born with the blooming of the snowdrops, I thought that the shawl would be a good way to commemorate her birth. I’ll wrap her in the shawl on the day of her birth, and I’m actually romantic enough to have a whole fantasy worked up about this daughter wearing it for her wedding, or wrapping her own baby in it. It’s enough to tear me up a little, I imagine this sweet wee babe, born on a day the snowdrops are blooming, wrapped in this fine lace….Unless, my friend delivers late. Then the snowdrops are gone and the plan is dumbass.
Finally, I leave you with the picture of innocence.
I’m sure you believe, as I do…that there is absolutely zero chance that this Black cat is not going to lie on this White shawl the moment I leave the room.