After talking last week with a new-ish (and not nearly as obsessed) knitter, I got to thinking - why am I so mad about this hobby? What is it that keeps me making tiny loop after tiny loop, n+1 times, until projects are done?

I think it's the variety. I love the idea that knitting is something you never truly master, that there are always new techniques to consider and learn. (For example, I've never tried entrelac. Someday, but not now). There are new ways of doing things, or old ways resurrected (knitting socks on two circular needles - which I've also not tried; I like my double-points fine. Or knitting two socks at once, using slip-stitch methods, like that character in Anna Karenina). I like that there are hundreds - maybe thousands - of different stitch patterns to try, from simple knit and purl combinations to elaborate cables. And that some of these patterns have been around for hundreds of years and have accreted a lot of legend and tradition (vide: Irish fisherman sweaters and the myth that they were a way to identify drowned men). And some - like Barbara Walker's Peace Sign - have been invented in the past fifty or so years.

I love the impedimentia of knitting. I love the different kinds of stitch markers, ranging from very plain (the little split plastic rings or rubber loops, which I tend to favor) to the elaborate (the jewelry-finding and bead creations, which could conceivably be customized for any season or holiday and probably are by some enterprising creative person). I like the different kinds of row-counters. The clever measuring tapes, although more often than not, the only tape I can find is my plain old sewing measuring tape from the notions store.

I like the needles of different materials, and learning how their different properties interact with the yarn to make knitting more "flowy" or "sticky". (Sometimes, it's good for knitting to be "sticky" - when you're working with a slippy yarn in a complex lace pattern). I have needles made of metal, of birchwood, of walnut, of bamboo, of plastic, of casein, of either bakelite or celluloid. I have needles that are long and straight, that are circular, that are double pointed. I admit I rarely use the straight metal needles - I find them kind of hard on my hands and for the projects I make on straight needles (scarves and dishcloths), the plastic or wood needles are more comfortable.

Right now, I'm making two scarves - one on casein needles, one on a couple of short wood dpns with point protectors on one end to turn them into very short straight needles. I've got a vest on a bamboo circular. I'm doing socks on small-gauge Pony Pearls plastic needles. And I'm making some gloves on metal needles (for the ribbing) and wood (for the body). And it delights me to be able to switch from project to project and see how the different needles feel in my hands.

I can't even go into all the detail of the delight of different fibers. That, for me, is a big part of the fun of knitting. With the possible exception of socks (and yarns I really love, like the Mission Falls yarns), I rarely use the same yarn more than once. There isn't time to! And there are so many wonderful things out there I want to try - hand dyed yarns, and yarns spun out of different breeds of sheep, and blends of interesting animal fibers, and Soy Silk. So many delightful yarns.

I've learned over time what I tend to favor, what I go back to time and time - I tend to prefer the plainer sorts of tools (partly because they're unobtrusive and easier to carry around, partly because the smaller less flashy markers affect my gauge less). I prefer animal fibers, especially wool and alpaca. I prefer "plain spun" yarns to novelties. I prefer doing cables or fancy stitch patterns or lace to colorwork. I prefer Fair Isle to intarsia when I do colorwork, even though I prefer the look of intarsia designs most of the time. I prefer slightly 'greyed' colors or colors closer to what nature produces over the bright primaries or punkier colors. I prefer shawls to ponchos and generally prefer cardigans to pullovers.

I wonder if a big part of happiness isn't the simple result of figuring out your preferences and accepting them, of being who you actually are, rather than being carried along by the tides of trend and fashion. Or are there some people whose true happiness comes from being a chameleon, of changing, of "re-inventing" themselves every six months? As opposed to being the zebra who never changes its stripes?

Perhaps, just like the hedgehog and the fox, there are people who are zebras and those who are chameleons. And I know I am a zebra, and am content in that knowledge.