After something of a hiatus, I’m back on a knitting kick again.

It probably has something to do with the weather; one is less inclined to sit on the couch with a lapful of wool when it’s warm and sunny out than when it’s wet and grim and dark at four in the afternoon. It probably also has something to do with the need for comfort; when one is in something of a slump, as I seem to be at the moment, the idea of sitting on the couch with a lapful of wool is most appealing.

So this afternoon, when I really should have been working, I cranked up the central heating, made myself a cup of tea and read knitting blogs all afternoon. It was inspiring and somewhat dismaying in equal measure: inspiring because there are people out there producing absolutely stunning knitting on a regular basis just for the pure joy of it, and dismaying because it makes me wonder why I’m such an unambitious knitter.

Despite the fact that I’ve been knitting semi-regularly for just over six years, I’ve never really progressed much beyond the scarf-making stage. Okay, I’ve done one proper sweater, a few hats, and some random bits and bobs (a hot water bottle cozy, a Bluetooth dongle cozy, the usual stuff). But mostly I’ve just done scarves, variations of scarves (shawls, wraps), and wrist warmers, which are like short scarves sewn up lengthwise.

It’s not that I don’t consider branching out and creating more complicated, intricate things. I do consider it—it’s just that once I’ve considered it and realized how much time, work and attention that beautifully shaped cardigan or delicate lace top will involve, I tend to wimp out and knit another pair of wrist warmers.

I think I just don’t have the attention span for big projects, and I don’t have the attention to detail needed to pull off really complex knits. Truth be told, with the one proper sweater I’ve knit, I was bored to death halfway through, and by the time I finished it, I was quite sick of it. I’m clearly more of an instant gratification type of girl.

I suspect my knitting is like my cooking. I’m never going to be a great chef, but I don’t aspire to be. I cook for the pleasure of it, and I find even the simplest cooking pleasurable. I enjoy the process of cooking as much as the product, and it’s the same with knitting. Sure, it’s fun to push myself to create something I maybe didn’t think I was capable of, but for everyday purposes, I don’t really need more than a simple soup—or a simple scarf.

So maybe I shouldn’t be too hard on myself about my unambitious knitting. I started knitting in October 2001, when nervous energy and anxiety sparked some nesting instinct in me and drove me to find something to do—something tangible, something real—to take my mind off…well, everything. I suppose a similar motivation drives me now. I like the crafty aspect of knitting, of course, and the creative aspect, but mostly I just like the soothing aspect, the methodical comfort of knitting and purling, and the simple sensual pleasure of clacking needles and fuzzy yarn. That’s enough for me.