Scarves in a closet... drugs in my pocket... aren't those song lyrics? Caffeinating with one of my knitty friends yesterday morning, she opened the closet on her own personal stash; miles of hand-knit scarves, made by her and (I think) daughter(s) or recovered from Goodwill. There were made from mohair, psychopsuedopoly ooh la la synthetics, and plain and sturdy nothing fancy ma'am muffler wool. I think this scarf collection is the yin to my sock yang. I probably knit a couple of scarves a year (my obsession this year has been alternating two rows of Noro kureyon alternate colourways - my take on looking at the world through pink coloured glasses).

So we all have these bits of scarves, which maybe we eventually tire of. When I'm ready to purge scarves, I think I would like to felt, cut, double and serge like sized pieces, and make a blanket (or a rug). Or unravel the Kureyon and start over again.