I made a pair of thrummed mittens. I used my handspun, navajo-plied corriedale and some leftover roving scraps from other projects.
They were so soft and delightful before I foolishly steam blocked them. Now the thrums are flat, flappy, and icky. I feel each one between my fingers. Wearing them reminds me of elementary school Halloween parties--reaching into bowls of peeled grapes and oiled spaghetti as part of a G-rated scarefest. These mittens need a microfleece lining. Their new home is next to the sewing machine until I get motivated. Fortunately, the weather is windy and snowy. Nature is my muse.