When we went to visit our neighbor for his eighty-ninth birthday, his wife was knitting by the wood stove, as she always does these days. Years ago, when she stopped working around the farm, she took up knitting instead. She had spun and knitted as a young girl, but hadn't done much of that since. Now knitting has become her occupation, and she knits up scraps of donated wool yarn into blankets for each of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
She must have knitted over ten blankets so far, and her technique has evolved over the years. The first blanket - I still remember it - was knitted in long horizontal rows, all of different yarns. It rapidly got too heavy to comfortably work with, so she switched to knitting smaller sections, either stripes, squares or rectangles, that she sews together into twin-bed sized blankets. Then she finishes her blankets by sewing them onto a sheet, as a backing, to prevent the knit from stretching all over the place.
Looking at the blanket she was working on, she told me where each of the different yarns came from. Some she liked better than others, but it didn't really matter, because her knitting isn't about gauge, type of wools, color matching or design. Her knitting is about recycling scraps of yarns, and giving them a purpose as warm blankets for her family.