Rustic socks

I love the surprise of discovering an unlikely knitter. Recently, I started a Sunday yoga class. The most fabulous socks I've ever spied were being worn by the yoga teacher. Not suprisingly, I had a hard time concentrating on class with those socks in the room... She didn't take them off... I thought: "Yah, why would you, they're amazingly awesome."

After class I couldn't just leave without inquiring about said socks.
"Did you knit your socks?" I asked, simply. "They're gorgeous."

I was able to get a good long look at them from all angles in various yoga poses. Let me describe: Heathery grey, dense, lovely even tension. A bit chunky, simple stockinette stitch—not exactly a sock yarn, but technically amazing. If I can remember correctly, the sock body contrasted with splashes of deep burgundy yarn. Toe and the heel were well executed with red reinforcement. It seemed like it was double knit to give extra padding. Something between a sock and a slipper. Perfect for sitting by the fire, or layering under your outdoorsy boots for chopping wood—or to keep toes warm in a chilly yoga class.

She told me her father-in-law knits them for us. Apparently, he began knitting as a way to keep his fingers nimble. He had trouble with dexterity at some point which led to the hobby.

To top it off, she adds: "He's taking us all to Cuba for a week!"

I found myself wishing I was part of the family, just so I could have some socks, and hang out by the fire knitting with this sock-knitting character. As I do, I drafted up a quick sketch of this man: in his 70s, bearded, Hemingway-like, yet warm and cozy. An avid reader and occasional traveler, a determined individual, balking at convention, possibly makes a perfectly chilled martini?

I know, I go too far with my romantic notions of life. It all just sounds good... so Kaffe Fasset meets sophisticated rugged woodchopper.