Yes, this is about knitting again.
(For those of you who have been following my blog, you know that knitting pops up every now and again; please bear with me.)
But this is a new kind of knitting story.
Last night, my children asked me to teach them how to knit. Expecting them to lose both interest and patience quickly, I cast on a few stitches for them, showed them the basics, then let them go to it.
They surprised me with their determination and patience.
And so we knit, all three of us, cuddled on the couch.
I’ve been knitting like crazy.
Small projects, one after another, are appearing from the wool.
The more I knit, the more ideas I get.
My mother and I visited the yarn shop yesterday.
This cozy little shop is stacked to the ceiling with gorgeous balls of yarn. Some of the skeins are so pretty they’re like art. We walked through, feeling the different textures, talking about colours, and imagining finished projects.
The creative possibilities are endless.
When fall arrives, I get the bug to knit.
The colours and textures of all the different yarns entice me. Patterns are possibilities.
It is creative and meditative, drawing me into the moment. I love the contrasting feel of the soft yarn and the wooden needles in my hands.
Since I can’t sit still without keeping busy, it helps me to be still.
One stitch at a time, the knits and the pearls come together to make something that will keep me cozy in winter.