Anyone who has been knitting for more than a year or so probably has a yarn stash. Maybe it's a basket of partial skeins left over from finished projects. Maybe it's thousands of dollars' worth of yarn purchased over many years.
I'm not here to judge the size or quality of your stash. We all have different constraints of budget, storage space, and tolerance for accumulation. But I'm at a point where my stash has become a source of more anxiety than inspiration. I feel like I have too much yarn.
What Brought This On?
Over the past two weeks, I finished a sweater for me which has been on the needles for months (the pink pullover discussed in this post), along with two commissioned design projects. This past Friday, I found myself without an active project on my needles. Yes, of course, there are long unfinished projects I could have resurrected, but I felt no enthusiasm for any of them. I knew yarn was on the way for my next design commission, but what would I knit in the meantime?
From my desk chair I can see three batches of beautiful yarn, each sufficient to make a sweater to fit me. The walk-in closet where the real stash lives holds six large (44-qt.) plastic storage bins, along with random bags of yarn tucked into every nook and cranny on the shelves. There is enough gorgeous yarn in the stash for at least another dozen sweaters, not to mention lots of leftover full and partial skeins in almost every fiber blend, weight, and color.
But I have no need of another sweater. Sweater season is only about 5 months long where I live. I have more than enough sweaters to meet my needs. Knitting another sweater for myself right now feels almost wasteful. Such a strange word to apply to the simple act of knitting a sweater, but there it is.
Why Do I Have So Much More Yarn Than I Need?
I have been a knitter for more than 40 years. Over the past 25 years, I have owned a yarn store, worked for a yarn company, and designed hundreds of patterns. When I design for a yarn company, they usually don’t want leftover yarn back. Some yarn companies send me samples of new yarns in the hope that I will review the yarn or recommend it for an independently published design.
And, of course, I buy yarn. When a yarn I know and love is discounted by 25, 30 or 40%, I rarely hesitate before clicking Add to Cart. It doesn't matter if I don't have a pattern in mind. I know roughly how much yardage is required to make a sweater in my size at any gauge, so I order enough plus one skein as a cushion.
Sock yarn has a particular tendency to accumulate, mostly because I can't leave a yarn store without buying something. I remember what it was like to sit in the shop on a slow day. When someone walked in the door, I'd feel a thrill of excitement and gratitude—maybe the day wouldn't be a bust after all! If they left empty-handed, the disappointment was crushing. I can always find a couple of skeins of sock yarn I'd like to knit. Buying that yarn puts about $20 of profit in the store owner's pocket. Not much, but better than nothing. And two more skeins of sock yarn are added to my stash.
I have no objection to a large, inspiring, productive yarn stash. But I'm starting to feel like a dragon guarding her hoard of treasure.
The CliffsNotes analysis of symbolism in Beowulf has this to say about the dragon's hoard:
The dragon's treasure-trove poignantly represents the vanity of human wishes as well as the mutability of time. The dragon's barrow holds wealth in abundance, yet the wealth is of no use to anyone. … He devotes his life to guarding a treasure that he frankly has no use for. Beowulf gives his life defeating the dragon and gaining this impressive treasure for his people, but they won't benefit from it either. The treasure is buried with the great warrior in his funeral barrow and, we are told, remains there still, a mighty horde of riches that is of absolutely no use to anybody.
There you have it—those bins and baskets hold great abundance, but it is of no use to anybody until I put it to work knitting finished projects.
What Now?
I need to cull my stash to reduce the total volume to a more comfortable level. For me, this means emptying every bin, bag, and basket. I need to touch every ball or batch of yarn and answer just one question: Am I eager to knit this yarn? If the answer is no, the yarn goes into a box (let's be real—more than one box) to be donated.
If the answer is yes, the yarn will be sorted into two groups: sweater quantity and less than sweater quantity. The sweater quantities will go into the big bins at the back of the closet, since I don't need any more sweaters right now. The smaller batches of yarn will be kept closer to hand. When I'm not working on commissioned projects for which I will be paid, I'll keep my hands busy knitting hats, socks, mittens and scarves to donate to Knit the Rainbow. These smaller projects offer plenty of scope for creative expression and they will turn my abundant stash into essential layers of warmth for those in need.
This stash sorting won't happen for another couple of weeks. I'm still recovering from knee surgery, and moving large bins of yarn doesn't feel safe right now. But it's on my to-do list and I'm looking forward to crossing it off. I'll report back on how many pounds of yarn I end up donating to the Maker Space at the local public library.
And What Did I Finally Decide to Knit Last Weekend?
When in doubt, knit socks. Even the most lovingly cared for socks eventually wear out and need to be replaced. The yarn is Biscotte Yarns Bis-Sock in the color Hudson's Memories. This is a remarkably soft hand-dyed blend of 85% superwash Merino wool and 15% nylon which I bought at Maker Festivals in Lancaster, Pennsylvania in August 2023. I'm using size US 1 (2.25 mm) double pointed needles and knitting from the top-down.
There is no real pattern for these socks. I cast on 80 stitches (I have big feet), knit the cuff in K2, P2 ribbing, knit the leg in K6, P2 ribbing, and made a flap-and-gusset heel. The top of the foot continues the K6, P2 ribbing, while the sole and toe will be stockinette stitch.
The 2024 National Book Award finalists were announced this week. I’ve read three of the five fiction titles, and have added the other two to my queue. How about you?
As always, thank you for the gift of your attention. Writing helps me sort through some of the clutter in my head, much as I’ll be sorting through my yarn stash.
Continue the conversation: How do you feel about your stash? Do you consider it too big, too small, or just right? Does it bring you joy and inspiration, or anxiety and guilt? No judgement here. You don’t need to meet any standards but your own. Think of this like the Kinsey Reports, but for yarn ownership instead of sex. 😉 By sharing what we do and how we feel about it, we can redefine “normal”.
Another stasher here. Yarn has been irresistible for years and now I’m at the age that I know my stash exceeds life expectancy… I have a yarn room upstairs (other stuff in there too) plus a downstairs outpost. Sigh. However, I think we knitters love the act of knitting so much, and the inchoate pleasure represented by beautiful yarn simply makes us feel happy and secure. I’ll trade a bit of guilt for that delight.
Happy healing!
This article totally resonated with me! I went through my stash this summer and it left me with a feeling of stress and that I will not ever be able to finish all of it. But now I will totally aknowledge the epiteth ”Yarn Dragon” ! Thank You for that!