Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens …
Oh, mittens.
Knitting mittens for a holiday gift is one of those ideas that sounds fantastic in July but ends up being a last-minute, curse-filled sprint in December. Trust me, as a seasons-long veteran of Christmas crafts I know of what I speak.
My name is Ellen, and I’m a holiday knitter.
I come by it naturally. I grew up surrounded by yarn – my mother was a knitter, and both of my grandmothers knit, crocheted and quilted – but I didn’t pick up my own needles until the early 2000s, when a friend’s knit night drew me in.
Since then I’ve made a billion (approximately) cowls, hats, fingerless mitts, scarves and ponchos. I’ve also purchased dozens of patterns, bought more than a few knitting books, and we’re not going to talk about how much yarn I own. (No, we’re not.)
It’s been an uneven crafting relationship. Typically when I start a project it’s all consuming — until I tire of it, unravel what I’ve knit (called frogging, in knitting vernacular), roll it back into a ball and stash it in a plastic bin with all the other balled-up yarn I own. (But we’re not talking about that, remember?)
I love the process; I’m just not into completion.
What I appreciate about knitting is the zen of it. The repetitive nature of the stitches calms your mind, but there’s also a tactile quality to it with soft yarn that begs to be touched. You can knit on your own or with others; I’ve helped fourth-graders learn to knit at my children’s elementary school, and am now part of a second knitting group whose creative members seek out fresh, modern projects that we all ooh-and-aah over.
This past spring, a close friend invited me to join her weekly knitting class at a local yarn store. Every Tuesday we sit around the store’s long table with five or six other women and knit together. I’ve learned how to brioche, cable, and this Tuesday will learn how to attach a thumb properly (not in my usual winging-it way) to three pairs of Lightning Fast Mittens, a one-skein pattern that Christine, our instructor, gifted to us a couple of weeks ago. (Christine is a professional who knows crafting desperation when she sees it.)
I look forward to these Tuesday evening sessions for the relaxed companionship and opportunity to learn new skills. My mittens may not yet have thumbs, but I’m enjoying knitting again. Isn’t that what a craft is for?