November 15, 2011

• Knitting soothes my soul.
  
                         
  
  (a simple shawlette made of alpaca–dreamy to touch!)

  It really does. The rhythmic in and out of the needles, smoothly sliding back and forth in a pattern, effortlessly weaving a web of silky yarn, soft and soothing in my hands, warming my lap, pleasing to my eyes…it’s almost hypnotic. I sit and knit, and an hour slips by without my even knowing it. And suddenly I come out of my trance to realize that the single strand has taken shape, has turned into something substantial and recognizable. And before long, a few days or more, I find myself binding off and weaving in loose ends and — it’s finished. And I loved every stitch along the way.

                          

  (This yarn is Noro Silk Garden–the BEST colors are made by the artists at Noro.
  I made a ruffled scarf out of yummy yarn. It is long and wraps a couple of times.)

  That’s the beauty of knitting. The process is satisfying AND the end result is pleasing. But there is way more. Even before the knitting begins to take shape, the fun begins. I love choosing a pattern, going into a yarn shop and touching all the yarns, fingering their softness and their texture and imagining how they will look knitted into something. I love the racks of knitting supplies, needles of all sizes and bags of all shapes. Books and patterns and inspiration all around. Stitch markers and scissors and tape measures and all manner of tools to answer every need. But most of all, it’s the yarn, the fibers of all sorts — wool, cotton, synthetics, even soy and bamboo — spun into rich, colorful strands that become the most important tool of all.
   
                                   

  (My friend, Anniemockingbird, told me about this little pattern. It’s called a Potato Chip Scarf, because “they” say you can’t make just one! Everyone who sees this wants one. And it’s SO simple…a spiral.)

  Yarn chosen and brought home in bags of promise, the process of creation begins. I love pulling out my needles and deciding which ones will work best, the sleek, shiny steel ones or the smooth, organic wooden ones. Sometimes I’ll cast on with one set and decide another would be better with this particular fiber, so I unravel and make a new beginning. I’ll knit an inch or so, to see if the gauge is going to work, and sometimes I’ll unravel and cast on again, adding or subtracting stitches to make a needed adjustment. I’m not impatient or hurried about this. I’ve learned something: I want to be pleased with the end result, so I take my time and get the proper start.
  

                       

  (My WIP–work in progress: a cowl that will be very long, to wrap around the neck a couple of times and still not fit tightly. This is knit on a circular needle–called knitting in the round. It is continuous–no seams.)

  Then I knit, only at night. I don’t allow myself to knit during the day — too many other duties and I don’t want any guilt. Night time is my knitting time. I sit down for a couple of hours and let the relaxation begin. Sometimes my background accompaniment is a ballgame, sometimes a movie, sometimes just music, depending on the whim of my farmboy. It really doesn’t matter to me because that is secondary to what my hands are doing.
                           
  
       
              

  (The pattern is interesting yet very simple, only four rows and two of them are simply knit around. The other two have yarn-overs which create the holes and make it look complicated — but it’s not! I wish you could see the little hint of glitz — this wonderful yarn is another alpaca so is divinely soft and has just a speck of shine every now and then. Its name is “Flicker.”)

  Another thing I’ve learned that keeps knitting happy for me is to be very selective with patterns. I won’t knit a sweater or a very lacy, fine shawl, not because I can’t but because that would turn knitting into work. And I don’t need more work. Following a complicated set of repeats that requires intense concentration might yield an intricate, lovely pattern but it will also yield a frustrated me. I avoid frustration. I keep it simple, choosing patterns of which I can be assured of the end result. With sumptuous yarn, even the simplest design turns into a work of art. I let the yarn speak for me.
   
  And finally, there is the bonus of being able to give something I’ve made to a special friend or relative — the product of my hands, stitched with love and care and given with joy and generosity.
  
  Yes, old-fashioned knitting does all that for me. What do you do that gives you a deep sense of satisfaction?

  • 1:54 pm
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