Simply Knitting

October and finding comfort in knitting with soft yarns--Debbie Bliss, Cashmerino and Knit Picks, Andean Silk. I have been knitting. And knitting. And knitting. Finished cabled baby sweater, City Hall packed with people listening to Noam Chomsky. Knit squares for Amanda's blanket--one cabled, one striped--in the car on the way to a wedding, at the park, on the stone stairs, sitting, as Thea naps, Cole digs. Knitting and talking. Knitting and listening. I have knit almost four little hats for almost four little people--Egyptian-like cats, fair isle patterns, squares, stripes. Colors. In love with color. Addicted to the pass of the yarn through and between needles. Circular. Straight. Doesn't matter.

I never used to knit, knitting a throwback to a stereotyped girlhood. Though it was crochet that I was supposed to learn. I've finally come around, found my knitting groove where sitting down with yarn feels like taking paint to canvas. I have found comfort in functionality and the warmth of the yarn and the beauty of an expertly if not lovingly crafted stitch.

A few weeks ago Thea was given a blanket put together by women with whom I knit. Each woman knit one or two or three or four 10 X 10 squares. The result, a blanket that I use, warm weight on my body as nights become cooler, a blanket that I wrap my daughter in, one that she will grow with, that she can ask about when she has the words. That's the thing about knitting. For Thea, the words can wait. They will wait. The history. The reasons. Ireland. Islands. Women spinning. Men knitting. Women knitting. Portugal. Peru. To name some. Sometimes, I slowly learn, there isn't need to say anything. The words can be kept, carried, sometimes concealed. Not for the bad of things, but for the good of things. The blanket. Thea. The history. Writing words for Thea. For the good of things.

To read Kim's article about the resurgence of knitting and what Amanda and others have to say about it, go here.