Dear Jolene,

I started knitting one year and two months ago. It has been amazing. Mandy and Katie, good friends of mine, had been trying to convince me to knit for years, and I resisted them, insisting, “I sew.” Then I was on bedrest for a while, and Mandy moved to TN and Katie needed a new knitting friend, so I decided what with all my extra time I would give it a whirl. My first yarn (Lamb’s Pride worsted weight in “Prarie Fire”) became a ribbed scarf for my Oma, and the yarn came from Clover Hill.

This is not why I love you.

My next projects included a matching hat and gloves (Mission Falls 1824 in aster and…periwinkle? Some blue) and green-and-white headband and wrist-warmers (also Mission Falls) and my Cloverhill experiences were always cheerful. The one time I veered away into Jo-Ann’s Wool-Ease section made me appreciate you all the more.

Still, not why I love you.

Even the mind-blowingly awesome savings at the Super Bowl sales are not why I love you.

See, recently Katie loaned me The Yarn Harlot’s Secret Life of a Knitter. (By recently I mean at least four months ago. I just got around to reading it. I know you won’t judge. Right?) I have since become addicted to YH’s blog, and have been becoming more and more infatuated with Fleece Artist yarns. I went to their website, hoping for online retail. No dice. Rien, as the French-Canadians would say! But lo, I could select a state. I selected Maryland, waiting to see how much of a friggin’ hike I was going to have to make to *just maybe* get my hands on some of this yarn.

I honest-to-goodness gasped, out loud (think about it: when is the last time you can remember gasping about something?) and got all fluttery when I saw: Clover HIll Yarn Shop, 75 Mellor Ave., Catonsville.

And this, THIS is why I love you. You have just made my day in a very big way.

Payday is Friday. I expect I’ll be seeing you (or at least the metaphorical “you” that is the shop) sometime this weekend.

Fondly,

Amy
p.s.  Please don’t tell my Super Bowl yarn about this email. What it doesn’t know won’t hurt it.

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