Bohus, o Bohus - how I love thee

Telling you I adore the Bohus beyond reason and logic may be understating the case.

Have you ever had a knitting experience you secretly wished would last forever? That is so satisfying that it makes you want to forsake all other knitting? I have never once in my entire knitterly career made the same garment twice (with the exception of Standard Sock Pattern No. 1 and its many variants) but this Bohus... I would do it all over again, and again and again and again.

There is something about it that is so completely gratifying it almost hurts. Is it the color arrangement, so subtle yet vibrant it looks more like liquid than yarn? Is it the tiny little purl stitches? They amuse me to a degree that's truly embarassing. Is it the yarn itself, soft as a cloud and yet not shedding even a tinch? I don't know, and I don't care. True love defies logic.

If I had loads of money I'd be emailing Solveig in Sweden right now, ordering a kit in every colorway she has. Actually, if I had loads of money I'd order half a dozen each, just so I'd have a good solid stash tucked away for a rainy day. Plus extra skeins, of course, so I could make matching mittens and scarves and tams. I don't even wear tams, but that is a minor issue. We need not speak of it.

I mean, really, what if all the sheep and bunnies in the world suddenly go bald and I'm left without the means of obtaining another kit, ever? What if the Swedes declare war? You know how ferocious they can be. No kits then, bubba. It's all quite worrisome.

Of course I haven't yet reached the miles ... and miles ... and miles of plain green stockinette. Perhaps my ardor will fade after eighteen gazillion rows of mindlessness.

But I think not.