The Stash

. . . It never leaves; it just changes form. The story of my stash; how it grow shrank, and grew a tiny bit - and a website blast from the past.

I learned how to knit as a child, but I didn’t particularly enjoy it. At 40 I re-taught myself, inspired by the knitting books that filled the craft section of the bookstore I managed, and with the exception of a two-year-ish hiatus during which I sold all of my stash, I’ve been knitting ever since.

I think we would agree that the prospect of working up a little something using a skein or two of the softest angora or most finely spun silk is a dopamine hit to rival any Candy Crush binge, especially for newish knitters who have just acquired enough skill to produce an attractive object that might have some cables or well-done ribbing. For years - YEARS! - I basked in the glow of the halo on a ribbed angora scarf, or maybe I reveled in the softness and strength of a linen shawl or a cotton tee.

As I reveled, and basked - and also luxuriated - my stash grew, along with my extensive (and expensive) collection of Addi Turbos. I think I kept that yarn in the closet of the spare room, in a storage ottoman in the family room, and I’m sure I used some other closets. Honestly though, the yarn was always manageable. Mostly Cascade 220 Superwash, which I loved for its stitch definition, the stash got used up as I cranked out dozens of hats and scarves as well as half a dozen sweaters. Fueled largely by Prozac and coffee, I listened to hundreds of hours of audiobooks as I knitted.

This was my favorite skein of yarn; I bought it in my hometown while we were there planning my dad’s funeral, nine years ago, at a tiny yarn shop across from the funeral home. It’s the only beadwork I’ve ever done. What a healing knit, with those lovely dappled shades of green. If all of my yarn had a backstory like this, my stash would be large indeed.

It’s Alive!

I also had a website (Animal Knits) where I gave away my finished objects in return for proof of a donation to a local animal shelter. Lots of mug warmers, hats, doggie Christmas stockings, and fingerless gloves were created and distributed through that short-lived endeavor. I think I raised about $1500 - a respectable amount for 2015. It was the perfect outlet for the countless items I produced. ( Bonus! I just checked; the tiny website is still there! I haven’t looked at this in years, and need to update it to mention that items are no longer being offered at this time, assuming I have access to edit. I think I might not. Visit it here: Animal Knits )

Cold Turkey

The knitting was non-stop, until finally it came to a grinding halt; a pinched nerve in my neck caused some pretty unpleasant pain in my upper back, and knitting contributed to the condition. So, I stopped. I sold my stash (which amounted to two or three large garbage bags) and put away my needles.

My husband was relieved, and I know my neck appreciated the change. I never got rid of the needles, and I stowed away the handmade yarn swift I’d bought at the Michigan Fiber Festival.

And then I didn’t knit - until I did.

I don’t remember why I picked up the needles again; it may have been an afghan request from my son. Regardless, I was soon back at it, with my main focus now on afghans and throws, except for the occasional side quest for a new baby in the family. Those side quests are well-documented here on Lake Effect, by the way.

I‘m not as obsessed as in the past, which I think is a good thing - but I have acquired a limited stash. It’s never been huge; in fact, it never took up more than 10% of a small closet. The inventory has gradually changed over the years, morphing from vivid Berroco to serviceable Plymouth Encore, and finally, giant skeins of acrylic craft shop yarn for gifts that needed to be easy care and sturdy.

Until about an hour ago, I had planned on working up a few more throws and / or comfort shawls, to keep handy for guests or as gifts. The problem with keeping them in the home is that this means I STILL HAVE STASH. It’s just knitted into the shapes of blankets, and it still takes up space. Nowhere in my home do I have room for a dedicated afghan storage space. So, I decided that I’m donating the majority of it.

I’ll leave this photo for posterity; it is, admittedly, a very small stash after all, and I’m getting rid of only the yarn on the top shelf, cunningly displayed in my rustic hand-crafted storage bin (cardboard box). There was more until a few months ago, when I donated a couple bags to a thrift shop whose proceeds go to help young adults who are aging out of the foster care system.

What a sense of freedom, to realize that there are more ways of clearing that closet shelf than knitting through the yarn! The natural fiber skeins in the bag are staying with me for a while yet. I’m also keeping about a cubic foot of dishcloth cotton.

---

Embarrassing.

Hmmm - this article is a lot of chatter over a tiny amount of yarn. I feel a bit foolish now, but look how much valuable closet space is assigned to even that tiny amount. I guess I’m a minimalist of sorts; I don’t really like collecting anything. I wonder if this is a function of advancing age. (Although, I have a friend ten years older than I am who has enough yarn to open a yarn store. When she moved from Michigan to Indiana she took all of it with her. There was enough to fill a five-foot tall storage fixture that held at least 16 bins, and roughly 35 large plastic totes. Given the choice, I would have sold or donated all of it before I moved, but that’s beside the point.)

What’s your Stash Style?

I tried to think of clever ways to describe how we feel about our stash, but it’s late and I’m tired. So I’ll just ask my laundry list of questions:

• Do you carry a significant stash?

• If so, how do you store it and track it? (At one point I tried adding my stash to my Ravelry profile but that was short-lived.)

• Do you display your stash, like my work colleague who recently posted a photo of a large storage fixture - like you would find in a yarn shop - filled with several hundred skeins of yarn in multiple colors and weights? (It’s quite beautiful.) Or do you keep it stored out of sight?

• What is your relationship with your stash? Does it dictate what you will knit next, or is it a separate entity and unrelated to your current project choices?

• To follow up on the last question - are you still adding to your stash, or are you at max capacity?

• Do you also have a stash of finished objects, ready to go when the need arises? (I have a small but respectable stack of dishcloths, at the ready when I need a hostess gift. I’m kind of proud of that.)

• Have you ever completely cleaned out your stash, either by knitting / crocheting it or by selling / gifting it?

Thanks for reading (whether patiently or impatiently) my self-involved yarn about yarn. I really would love to hear how you handle your inventory.