Knitting indulgences

Here are my feet in glorious handknits, but not in socks of my knitting, these are a generous present from a friend.
I took this photo, emulating Jane Brockett, standing on my new white blanket.

And here are the socks again, actually looking better off my feet, on the white blankie, .

And here are the socks looking better than ever (I'm on a roll here) on my autumn-coloured, knitted blanket (it is a proper single-bed sized blanket, not a mere rug).

When a beloved rug of stripey patches that my grandma knitted me fifty years ago finally fell apart, I spent a year learning to plain and purl and perilously cast-off, and made this first blanket.

I loved the colour, texture of the wool and  the click of needles but not, after I made 14 beanies for charity, counting, concentrating and following patterns.

I really enjoyed making the second white wool blanket, triumphantly sewn up two weeks ago.

Now I'm collecting blues and greens from op shops and bargain bins to knit a blanket for next year. I have a beautiful print of mythical waterbirds by Lisa Kennedy in haunting blues and greens in my room and  I want to play with water-cool colours for a while.
(The link is just to a recent exhibition, not to an image of my print)

 I may just keep on knitting patches of colour and sewing them up into thick, soft, warm and pliable blankets. Socks will have to wait awhile longer.

I'm prepared to work on a piece of sewing, to wrestle with it, to try and perfect it. I want knitting to be pure pleasure for a while.