Thursday, November 20, 2008


Knitting has become my new obsession. I do not know why, nor what I expect to accomplish by it, only that, for the time being, I must knit. I should be making at least a pass at housework. I should be tatting or painting. I should curl up with one of the library books that follow me home from work like stray puppies.
I should be doing so many other things. Things that have meaning, purpose. But, no, I knit. See the results of my obsession? Will it be a scarf? I love scarves and have quite a collection of them. This will have to take its place in my collection as the ugliest. The colors are fine: muted autumnal shades from gold to russet through various shades of green and back to gold. The yarn is a simple acrylic worsted. That's fine, too, plenty soft enough and washable--very practical. But it took many rows before I figured out the whole knit, purl technique. And now I'm doing knit 2, purl 2 over and over. Before long, I'll be breaking out in cables. It will be a sampler scarf, evolving in design as I learn new techniques. It will be ugly, but warm as any others I own. It will have many flaws and flubs, no doubt, but no one will wonder where I got it. They will take one look and know I made it myself. You know what? Many people will say, with a hint of envy in their voice, "I wish I could knit," when they see me wearing it. Then I'll get that great feeling inside that one only gets when one does something creative and wonderful. And maybe that's why I'm so knitwitted these days. Knitpurl photo by JulenaJo.

1 comment:

  1. I never learned to knit, I think my mother put me off it. We came to Canada from the UK in 1957 and soon after she aquired a knitting machine. She knit up a storm, including a wool bathing suit for me which hung to my knees when wet! I remember a particularly awful skirt and sweater outfit in blue & white horizontal stripes that I "generously" offered when we were gathering up donations for the Hungarian refugees who were immigrating to Canada in 1958. I felt quite guilty for years that some other child was blessed with it. Dear Mum was still knitting from her '50s pattern books well into the 70's.