Something Old

about a month ago, claudia blogged about this relic her mother  had found stashed away.    a crocheted stole, carefully crafted by claudia's adolescent hands, she was ready to throw it out like an old rag.  "crochet!" she exclaimed.  blech!  in blue, no less!  double blech! 

so i told her i'd give it a good home.  this blue stole had lasted this long, it deserved to be finished.

check out the change in gauge though.  on the left, are the first few inches.   did she use a different sized hook?  were her hands relaxed and happily crocheting?  on the right, are the last few inches.  was she hating the stole?  hating the crochet?  was her dislike of blue so overwhelming that she would forever associate it with crochet? were her hands clenched so tightly in crocheting hating frustration that her stitches were half the size?  was this the beginning of the end for the crochet?  and why she's a knitter today?

who knows?