Knitting in the North

A discussion of knitting, family, home and other stuff.


It was about this time last year that I first held two pointy sticks in my hands, and discovered the joy of creating something out of a bit of string. I can't remember the exact date, but then, I can't remember my exact wedding anniversary, either, and there are times I forget how old I am. My youngest child, Gwenyth, was born last summer. After her birth, I was plunged into what I suppose is called the "baby blues". I had no idea what was wrong with me - I was just not myself. The tears, the tiredness, the inability to sleep, the negativity (this was most strange, I'm a bit of a Pollyanna). I went to the doctor to look for answers, but his only solution was the offer of anti-depressants, and I wasn't willing to try that. I tried lots of things to buck myself up: I made a habit of walking around the house smiling, even when I didn't feel like it. I started a "Thankful Journal", in which I wrote something to be thankful for every day, even when I didn't feel very thankful. I went for walks, ate fruit, drank water. You know. One day, in early September, I was on my way home from driving my oldest daughter to school, and I went past a church. They had a sign up on the board advertising a Morning Out for Moms group, with registration that very day. I thought, "Oh, I would love to do something like that", and kept driving. A few minutes later, I though, "Why can't I do something like that?", and turned the truck around. I met a lady with her two boys in the parking lot, and asked her if I could come in and check it out, even if I didn't attend that church. She encouraged me to do so, and as we chatted, I learned that she was teaching a knitting class. The way this particular program went, the group met together for coffee and a visit, and then broke up into smaller groups learning various things: scrapbooking, breadmaking, sewing a Christmas wall hanging, knitting. The kids all went to organized and well prepared child care, and you volunteered to help provide said child care on one of the (I think) 6 weeks of the program. Anyway, I signed up, and began my adventure into the wonderful world of knitting. I had always wanted to knit. My mother-in-law knits, and I longed to ask her to teach me, but was too timid, and worried of upsetting the careful balance of friendliness between us. The first session, all I learned was how to cast on. I went home and cast on for a hat for Brian. My logic was, that if he knew that I was making him something, he would be more likely to go willingly into the preschool child care room. I ripped it back and cast on again, and then one more time before our next meeting. It felt so good. With every loop of yarn on the needle, my world, which had been completely turned on it's side, found order. Then the magic really started. I learned to knit. I learned to purl. I started a 2x2 ribbed hat, in blue variegated Red Heart acrylic yarn. I was in love. Knitting is more than just a craft to me. It has truly saved my sanity, brought me joy, caused me to make friends I never imagined. It has satisfied my need for having a hobby, for having something that is mine, all mine, even if what I make is almost always for someone else. The process is for me. It frees me from the irrational guilt I feel when I sit down to watch TV, or take a break in the middle of the day. Knitting has allowed me to create beautiful objects, using beautiful materials, but still wind up with a practical useful object. This combination satisfies both my anti-establishment hippy side, and my suburban accountant side, which believe me, is not easy to do. In so much of my life I feel torn about what I do, but in knitting, I find contentment. I so appreciate all of you readers. I think you have no idea, but perhaps you do, how important to me your comments are, how much I value your relationship, your positivity, your input, and your support. So thanks.