My great-grandmother wasn’t able to teach me to knit. Despite many patient hours spent showing me how to loop the yarn around the needles, my childhood self couldn’t make sense of it. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I began my journey into textile arts, and even then, it began with crocheting. Who knows why one was easier for me than the other. Maybe one hook was easier to maneuver than two needles. Maybe my granny square goal was more achievable than the lofty cable-knit sweater dreams of my ambitious childhood. Whatever it was, crochet came easily to me, and I took off.
I learned to make a granny square, and I turned out a few slouchy hats, but in a few months, I came to terms with a plain fact: every pattern that I truly loved was a knit pattern. Crochet fabric was enjoyable to make, but I just didn’t love it. I loved knit fabric. So I pulled out my great-grandmother’s knitting needles, pulled up some YouTube tutorials, and I got to knitting.
I wanted to skip making the classic angry dishcloth or the seemingly endless and inevitably wonky scarf. The Beekeeper’s Quilt by Tiny Owl Knits had caught my eye some time ago, and it seemed like a perfect place to start. It was straightforward, portable, and most importantly, it was unbearably cute. I purchased a set of tiny bamboo double-pointed needles and a ball of variegated purple sock yarn and started my first hexipuff. I figured by the time I had a respectable pile of of puffs, I’d be skilled enough to try some of the patterns I had been admiring from afar.
I haven’t finished my quilt. My hexipuffs now lie in a basket until further notice. It doesn’t matter. I’m thankful for them because they kicked me out the door and got me on my way. It turns out all I needed was practice and room to make some mistakes. After all, if a hexipuff doesn’t turn out, it won’t ruin the whole quilt. Toss it on the pile and start again with the next cast-on.