I picked up a project that had been mocking me from its “just in view” location in a corner of my studio. Draped in a large circular braided cloth bin rested a chunky wool knit blanket just about a quarter done. The color a comfortable warm white yarn. For months and possibly years it has rested in a neglected mound. A few round skeins tucked underneath. I have done only a few knitted projects and all with varying results.
A simple pattern made to look more substantial. Contemporary in appearance. The illusion of a quality knit good. Chunky and hearty. Vermont winter worthy. Knit only. Again, and again. The biggest challenge is remembering how to join new yarn and not to create a hole in the piece. YouTube is just fingertips away and can teach me how to navigate the technical but how will I fix this pending hole in my heart?
I think of the fabulous women in my life who have made this art form look easy and natural. My mother created her own stitches and gorgeous blankets, my sister an exquisite fabric artist. Knits, quilts and needlepoints. Esther my adopted mom- in -law is well practiced in crochet and knitting since a young girl. She is masterful as were her sisters I am told…
I do not hold this skill set. I lack the patience and attention to the details required of following a pattern. I always have struggled with following rules, so this is not a big surprise. However, there is nothing I love more than the inherent beauty in items made by hand. Someone else’s hands in this case…
Hand knit sweaters are my greatest weakness. I have vintage mohair sweaters, an Icelandic sweater my mom bought me when I was in college. Black heavy mohair with a lavender and slate blue yoke. New wool statement pieces. Black cashmere is the gold standard…
When teenagers my sister and I would shop at a hand knit store in Little Compton, RI with our mom each summer. Either on our way to the beach or on the way home we would stop and admire the rows of hand knit goods. The small wooden stand-alone structure had a stunning inventory of knitwear. Wide pine uneven wooden floors stretched long between the wooden display shelves. My mom would buy each of us our choice at the end of the summer as a treat for the upcoming school year. A butter yellow cable knit sweater was my favorite. The wrong color for my skin tone but I loved the softness of the color and the yarn. I wore the sweater for years…
Esther has made slippers for me each Christmas for many years in varying color combinations. Blue and white, Lavender and white with a complimentary pom-pom. Christmas red and green. Sometimes even contemporary socks with vibrant pops of color. Trendy and fun. Knitted headbands for running. While Esther didn’t love the idea of me running, she made sure I would be warm. Thoughtful beyond measure and each creation had a variation. An individuality, Esther’s extraordinary heart is quietly on display with each unique embellishment. A nod to the many hearts she holds…
The numerous blankets, hats and dresses she has knitted for my granddaughters are beyond description. A hat shaped like a cupcake has captured the approval of many a passersby. Attention to the details a must and her want to make sure the baby’s ears would be covered was required. Always thinking like a mom and loving grandmother.
Esther’s pink chair is the hub of her knitting world. A highly respected and accomplished executive assistant in her professional life is evident in the organization of her knitting. A thing of beauty. Patterns. Stitch counting and knitting magazines all carefully in order. Countless times I have sat on the floral fabric sofa on the cushion closest to her. We always have chatted animatedly with never a lapse in conversation. I love hearing her stories of her family. Her eyes take on a special sparkle when she speaks of her fabulous girls. Her daughter Ann and granddaughter Sarah are her world. Great grandchildren Sophie and Sawyer are the cherry on the cupcake hat. She is so proud of their beauty, spirit and intelligence. Sophie an excellent student and Sawyer’s young devotion to his dinosaur collection has her in awe. Esther loves with every essence of her being. She is called Fram by those closest to her and who have had the true honor of loving her for a lifetime. I believe “Fram” was a gift from her cherished Sarah…
In a manila folder sitting on top of a tall thin circular table across the living room I noticed a stack of printed papers. The folder housed my blog essays. Organized chronologically with great care. Stapled so as not to lose a word. Esther told me that she is transported away when she reads my essays. She will often do so again and again during the quiet of her day. My heart swells. The maternal gift of love is unparalleled no matter what my age…
We always would discuss her latest project, or she would ask me to join her in the other room to look at the new collection she had created for a family member. A special knitted blanket for a wedding gift. Baby clothes for a new family member. A baby doll with a whole wardrobe of handknit outfits including a handknit baby carriage. The love for her family was in every stitch…
Feeling the need to finish my project that I have left idle for far too long lead me pick up the large needles while I sat alone last night, thinking. Somber news and much reflection had filled my every thought. The pressure of time is upon our small family. Projects of sentimental import need to be completed sooner than later now. I feel the want to finish this knitted piece before the final stitch is cast…
“It is quite clear that between love and understanding there is a very close link…He who loves understands, and he who understands loves. One who feels understood feels loved, and one who feels loved feels sure of being understood.”—Paul Tournier