I was always rather crafty.
When I was in 6th grade, my mom and I took a knitting class together. She wanted to knit an afghan, but knitting did not come easy for her. She had six kids ~ four boys and two girls ~ and they were a handful. My dad was not around much, so I’m not sure when my mom thought she’d have the time to knit an afghan, or the inclination, because if my mom had any free time at all, she liked to read.
I, on the other hand, usually annoyed by whatever my brothers were doing, took to knitting immediately. Since I was a kid, the instructors probably started me off with a manageable project, like a scarf. I don’t remember the first object I made, though I fondly recall the yellow and green afghan I crocheted in 7th grade. That’s when I learned not to mix different types of yarn, synthetic vs. natural, as the tiny section of wool I used shrunk when I washed the afghan and it had this weird sucked-in middle area ever after.
Knitting is the Great Patience Giver
Knitting is a refuge. Folks that don’t knit usually say, “I don’t have the patience for that,” not understanding that knitting is the great patience giver. All the stress, frustration, and thoughts about people you want to punch, goes into your knitting. Those worries about money, kids safety, what to make for dinner, the messy house and flubby body, flow into the needles as you work. I’m sure there is a brain chemistry connection between busy hands and the calmness they bring.
One of the great joys of moving to Vermont, after having lived for 17 years in California, is that I started knitting again. Because the only yarn I’ll knit with is wool, and I never wore wool in California, that’s where I switched over to quilting and fiber arts instead. I also don’t knit in the summer months, so now that spring is here, it’s time to head out to my dusty quilting studio and get to work.