In the Waning of the Day

In the Waning of the Day

Copyright Judith Somersett 2010

In the waning of the day when embers warmly glowing lay within my hearth
the stresses that had taken hold no longer seem to be so bold
They don their cloaks and quickly flee, and yield to wools enfolding me,
As I sit clicking, clicking, softly knitting
in the waning of the day.

In the waning of the day when all around me sleeping lay
No sleep can find me as I sit before the fire and quietly knit
My soul finds solace in the act, the quiet, lovely fibrous act of one stitch over, two left back
Wrap the yarn, take up the slack.
A sock, a hat, a baby sweater
End result?  It doesn't matter
Just the act of quiet solace worry-free of come what may
in the waning of the day.

WHAT WAS YOUR CATALYST?

How did we get to this place called Fibre Frenzy?  We knit because we love the craft.  We knit because someone once told us we could make anything we wanted if we applied ourselves.  To them, it was a chore, so why is it all of a sudden a release for this generation.  I have decided that our parents and grandparents knit out of sheer practicality and purpose.  It was necessary.  They used string, cloth, old carpets, the list goes on.

To us, it is a hobby.  We indulge ourselves with all sorts of yummy yarns and knitting tools because we can, because our ancestors gave us the facility and we developed it into a passion.

My mother could knit. She learned in school.  It was a compulsory subject for little girls - what is up with that?  They should have also taught the boys.  My grandma knit.  She used utilitarian yarn and taught me with that same scratchy fibre.  I don't think she ever suspected what would grow from that seed but I hope she would be proud.

My mother was brilliant.  She could finesse any pattern regardless of how complex.  She made seven dresses in one year for herself, on impossibly fine needles, using boucle tweed.  They were all gorgeous.  However, she only ever worked on one project at a time and only had the wool for that one project.  There was no such thing as "stash".  She had straight metal needles, the kind that we eschew.  We have tools now that would boggle our parents' minds. No fancy stitch markers, row counters, tape measures.  Just the essentials.  You only used circular "pins" to make items that straights could not accommodate.  There was a right way and a wrong way to hold your needles.  It was a second job.

My question is:  what was the turning point from stark necessity to favourite pastime?  Did our parents love it as much as we do but the social media wasn't there to tweet about it?  There was no photographing your creations and showing them off to a network of hundreds of like-minded fibre zealots.  The thought of a "Stitch 'n Bitch" group boggled my mother's mind.  She would knit in the evening, after the dinner was done and the dishes washed and put away.  She would stop at bedtime, regardless of how much or how little was left on the project.  The thought of staying up past bedtime to knit was unthinkable.

So I welcome any comments or stories you may have to share on this subject.  This craft we love.  This hypnotic, zen art which helps calm and soothe our souls and relax us like no other art can.  What was your catalyst?

Joy in Knitting