For me, winter in Alaska means wool socks, lots of them: typically a thin inner sock topped by a thick outer sock, both of which need to fit into a cozy slipper or boot. Sometimes there’s even a neoprene or other high-tech fabric liner sock.

When Mike and I began caretaking, I decided I would knit all my wool socks.

They’ve done their job for years; I’ve yet to lose a toe to frostbite. I’ve taken care of them, mending and reinforcing heels, toes, and the balls of the feet as they got thin. That is, until fairly recently. I let the mending slip. Part of me decided that socks don’t live forever, and these have all earned the right to retire.

Part of me wanted to knit new socks; I hardly knit anymore, and I have a giant box of sock wool that desperately wants to be something other than moth food. And so a Summer of Socks begins.

The hole-y socks will soon embark on a new life in their retirement. Throw them out? Not a chance! Sock retirement is hardly the end of life for good wool. Wait and see.