I am a person with some very well defined weaknesses. I like strong, black tea (with unholy amounts of cream and honey). I like shiny rocks and mossy sticks (yes, I have a pet furry stick that I water and treat as a house plant). I am completely susceptible to sarcastic notepads. And I love anything that promises to wrangle other objects into some semblance of order for me. Cute jars, tiny tins, little trays…they’re all irresistible.
Which is why it should surprise no one that I’ve finally given in and knitted a whole bunch of tiny trays. In fact, the most surprising thing about this should be it’s taken me so long. Anyone who knows me should have expected this level of nonsense much sooner.
Now, will they cause me to mend my slovenly ways and bring order to my entire home in one fell swoop? No. No, they will not. Will they make your home suddenly pristine and ready to be inspected by your most judgemental relative at a moment’s notice? Also no.
But they might just manage to make it slightly harder for your stitch markers and darning needles to wander off on an unexpected adventure or make it a bit less likely that your jewelry rolls off your bedside table into the crack behind the mattress in the night. They might even give you a place to display your favorite rock or shell or bit of sea glass or other tiny treasure.
And really, that’s probably as much as one can reasonably expect from a little bit of knitting. Though to be fair, there’s not always perfect overlap between reasonable expectations and what I hope to accomplish. So I might just indulge in a vision of the world where these trays were all it took to finally bestow perfect order on my world.