I learned to finger knit in fifth grade, and cast on for the first time the summer between seventh and eighth grade. I never saw either of my grandmothers knit, although one did crochet. It was too hot, during the summer, when I would have been visiting them, for my aunts to have a knitting project or two going. But one summer my aunt with air-conditioning, exhausted from my early-teen-age antics set me up with some yarn and two needles,and happily, I knit. I didn’t make anything, and I don’t know what happened to that yarn, or those needles, but I knit.
The year after college, living at home, working at my first job, trying to figure out the world, I bought Knitting For Dummies
two sticks, and some horrible yellow polyester yarn. Two women at a local yarn store scared me with their kindness and I never mastered casting on, that time around.
Married two years, my mother-in-law, an inveterate knitter, went through my book with me, and I mastered casting on, knitting and purling. A row! two! three! Dreams of christmas presents, yarn purchased, changed jobs, moved, forgot.
And last year, my son born. Hours of nursing, hours of waiting on naps. Knitting. Back at work, yearning for a greater connection, a gift, something of me to keep close to him, knitting. Meditation, exercise for my hands, enforced calm, a deep breathe. The end of my day, a moment at lunch, distraction on the bus.
A scarf, but it needs “finishing” (tucked in ends, some dropped stitches picked up). A beautiful cowl on my hated circular needles (bamboo, big mistake).
So, 25 years since that first cast-on, and still no finished objects. But oh, the accomplishment.
I like these for inspiration:
Last-Minute Knitted Gifts
The Purl Bee