After I released the Indira shawl, I wore it everywhere—to work, knit nights, a winter wedding. Anywhere I wanted elegance without overthinking it. But in some settings, like around my office, I realized a smaller accessory would be more practical. I found myself wanting something I could throw on and that would stay put. A cowl with the same stitch patterns felt perfect, so I started sketching.

The size and shape were crucial. I wanted the same beautiful drape as the shawl and decided to make the cowl wider at the base, narrower at the top. I also wanted to knit as much of that striking double-braided cable as possible. Sideways construction was the answer. It gave me the opportunity to play with short rows, which I’d been wanting to explore more, and to include not just one but two cables! The fun part was problem-solving and figuring out how to execute it so the pattern would be repeatable. When I finally drew a short-row diagram that looked promising, I circled it and wrote, “This works!”

I knit two prototypes to test the construction. The first was too narrow at the top and never saw the light of day. The second one was where things clicked. I was amazed to see the short rows work exactly as I’d sketched them, creating that perfect funnel shape. This sample needed some fine-tuning, but it quickly became part of my knitwear rotation too.

Once the design came together, finding the perfect yarn was next. A bold, dark red colorway in La Bien Aimée’s catalog stood out as the one. I savored every stitch from cast on to bind off, and I was especially excited to be able to wear my finished cowl when meeting Aimée for the first time at Stitches West 2020.

I’ve made two more Indira Cowls since then, including one in yellow for La Bien Aimée’s boutique in Paris, and I constantly reach for any one of the three I still have. It’s exactly the kind of accessory I was looking for—elegant, practical, wearable. Maybe it’s what you’ve been looking for too.

The mitts were always part of the plan. From the moment I finished the Kestra Hat, I knew I’d make matching mitts. I still had plenty of yarn leftover, the main chevron stitch pattern was meditative and fun, and my hands were always cold. But I wasn’t able to cast on for a couple months. In that time, my husband Cody and I had moved into our new house and added Brogan, a new puppy, to the family. Things were busy, but in the best way.

At the earliest hint of a break, I went back to my charts and picked up my needles. For the shaping, I used what I’d learned from the Novemberist Mitts but, like that pattern, I wanted to explore something different, not just a repeat of the hat. So I added a second, unique stitch pattern for the palms. This detail, a visual break from the top of the hand and thumb gusset, became one of my favorites.

Over the next few weeks, I snuck in stitches during evenings and weekends, between work and life. Without fail, Brogan or our other dog, Wes, would settle right beside me on the couch, and there was something special about working on these mitts in our new house—making something not only with but also for my hands while everything else was finally slowing down.

If you’re looking for a reason to pause—something rhythmic that settles into your evenings—here they are.

It all started in spring 2021, just days after I finished knitting the Nydia pullover. With one skein of that beautiful yarn left, I imagined a matching hat with the same textured stitch and lateral braid detail. I excitedly cast on, expecting to finish it by the end of the weekend.

It didn’t work out that way. Another project called—a sweater!—and the hat got set aside. Weeks became months, and when I rediscovered the nearly finished hat in early 2022, I picked it up to work on the crown shaping, but it didn’t come together the way I wanted. Back into the project bag it went.

Then, at the beginning of 2023, after test knitting the Nydia Cardigan, a few testers asked if there’d be a matching hat. That question sparked something, and my initial excitement came rushing back. Unable to find my original project, I cast on again with the details still alive in my mind. And this time? Everything clicked. The crown shaping came together in a single day.

I cast on another, then another, and just kept going—working with different DK weight yarns, adjusting stitch placements, and fine-tuning every detail. Each hat flew off the needles. Before I knew it, the Nydia Hat had evolved into not just one but two variations in sizes graded to fit the whole family.

A generous group of test knitters helped me confirm the pattern worked, and several made multiple hats for themselves and loved ones too. And just like that, after all those years, the Nydia Hat was finally ready for the world.