The Yarnie Bomber

Yarn bombing has always seemed to me one of those LITS activities (Life Is Too Short), and besides, it usually looks unattractive. Why spend precious time knitting couvertures for inanimate objects (tea pots excepted), when you could be creating useful clothing for humans and pets? No one to knit for? (Ha!) Think: charitable giving.

Having prologued thus, I must confess:  I have become a Yarnie Bomber, and here is my story.

It all began last week when I discovered several ancient plastic bags in the back of a dusty closet, and the bags were filled with yarn. The yarn had belonged to my adorable mother-in-law, Gladys Jewel Thomas Ward (1903-2000), who apparently had used it to crochet afghans.

Most of the yarn was horrible to contemplate, although it admittedly had a certain vintage cachet.

I Googled this  "Lovely Ann Lofty Spun Yarn (75% rayon, 25% cotton) to see if I could discover its historical background, without luck. All I can say with certainty is that it's at least 30 years old, but probably older.

Along with this bilious green, was a partial skein of the same yarn in carnation pink. I held it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, and it was then that my Aha! moment occurred:  As this  yarn was not suitable for human consumption, I could use it to yarn bomb!

Thus has begun my yarn-bombing career.

I've selected the naked post of my rural mailbox as the yarn-bombing target. My approach will be serial--in other words, an accretive strategy. As time marches on, so will the coverage of the designated target. (Stay tuned for progress reports!)  I shall search my stash for every last skein of Unfit for Human Consumption Yarn (i.e. synthetics that have been given to me by well-intentioned non-knitters) and use them to ornament my mailbox--perhaps other landscape features, too.

In the same dusty bags I found several partial skeins of Red Heart, Rochelle, and Pomfret mothproof, "Tangle-Proof" 100% virgin wool worsted. (Some labels still have price tags:  97 cents a skein.)  Again, I estimate the age of this yarn to be somewhat ancient. What impressed me most was that the mothproofing had really worked! The yarn is in very good shape.

"Would you like me to knit you a scarf from this cache of your mother's yarn?" I asked H, as we sat gazing inanely at the Summer Olympics on NBC, he nursing a scotch, I knitting feverishly, as I usually do when my brain is on vacation.

"Whatever for?" he responded. "I don't need another scarf."

Lola says:  "Take time to smell the wildflowers!"