Finished! The afghan for my seven-year-old niece is finally complete–fringe added, yarn tails woven in, and ready to be delivered. The blues reflect her outdoorsy nature, as wide and expansive as the sky–a girl who is happiest collecting rocks and shells and watching frogs jump.
Baseball comes next… in the form of a Detroit-Tigers-themed blanket for my sports-loving nephew. The yarn has been selected–thankfully, Lion Brand Yarns has created a palette for the baseball season–and finalists for the pattern have been narrowed down.
I might even challenge myself by adding the Detroit Tiger’s famous “Old English D.” That is, if I can figure out how to read the pattern–a possible stumbling block for someone who knits like the proverbial dancer but with two left hands instead of feet.
But none of this matters. Once the yarn slips through my fingers in a meditative repetition, I’ll be lost to the process, watching the afghan emerge stitch by stitch. There’s a peace to be found in knitting, a solitary craft–at least for me–in which the simple union of needle with yarn can yield hours of serenity (except, of course, when I drop a stitch!).
It reminds me at times of writing, the beauty of linking words like stitches and seeing a pattern emerge in a swirl of colors. Underneath it all is the hope that what is in my mind will be reflected on the page or needles, but also a reminder that part of the joy must come from the act of creation.