It seems my knitting goes from drab to bright as whimsically as Minnesota weather changes.
Normally, in this household, certain things must match. Socks, underwear, shoes and bags, etc. Or at least they must give a congenial nod to coordination of color and design. But my Noro socks are of another realm altogether. It's not just the color that lures the eye and piques the mind. It's also the texture of the yarn that makes one imagine carefree, sunny childhood days when a box of crayons could spark a breathless masterpiece of blended hues.
The evocative power of this yarn is one reason why I don't even attempt to match the striping. It would be like insisting that a child color within the lines.