Last year my mom gave me this basket of hand-me-down tapestry yarn that she inherited from some friends of hers, who inherited from some relative of theirs. Very old, small skeins of thick wool, in horrendously sharp migraine inducing colors, yet with a surprisingly soft texture. She couldn't figure out what to do with them.
The skeins told me they wanted to be a warm blanket, in simple stockinet stitch so as to maximize the coverage and minimize the bulk.
After a few months of winding, car knitting, and marathon blocking, now we have a mass of colorful blocks in all different sizes. Henry helped me with the color arrangement.