My aunt taught me to crochet when I was young, perhaps 7 or 8. My first attempts at dishcloths and washcloths (the classic crochet beginner projects) were amateurish, to put it mildly. The cotton yarn I had was multicolored, greens and whites and yellows, and the cacophony of color only added to the chaos of my uneven stitches. The foundation chain was too tight; the stitches atop it were gangly, loopy, loose. I’d followed the directions to the proverbial T. I just needed practice.
patterns
patterns
patterns
My aunt taught me to crochet when I was young, perhaps 7 or 8. My first attempts at dishcloths and washcloths (the classic crochet beginner projects) were amateurish, to put it mildly. The cotton yarn I had was multicolored, greens and whites and yellows, and the cacophony of color only added to the chaos of my uneven stitches. The foundation chain was too tight; the stitches atop it were gangly, loopy, loose. I’d followed the directions to the proverbial T. I just needed practice.