I finally finished my shawl. Finished it on the long drive back to Phoenix, bound off in time to photograph in the backyard in the late, low-angle setting sun.
There's always a slightly disheartening moment when you bind off , trembling with excitement, and see how sad and crumpled those stitches look before blocking. The waves look like awkward puckers. The lotus blossoms, still yet to bloom.
I gave it a quick soak and pinned it out on a cotton rug that I'd pulled onto the grass. (The curious kitty cat needed to come and check it out. It's cat fashion to walk all over whatever it is you're paying attention to, naturally.)
And at the end of such a long journey with a project -- yarn purchased five years ago for my wedding shawl and naturally dyed when I was still living in Vermont, project sketched out over the past year when I passed time in boring meetings, knitting done on plane rides and climbing trips from one coast to another -- what a relief it is to unpin it and see that it's all come together!
I'm especially delighted by how the flowers bloomed so gloriously. The magic of blocking.
Plan is to knit up a slight variation, probably in a lightweight wool, and then to write up the pattern. Hopefully I'll have it out by the fall, though you know that probably means winter ... heh heh ...