Last week I began I new crocheting adventure. A creative, colourful, textural journey that I could easily pick up and put down; except that now, a week on I can quite honestly say that it’s not so easy to put down..
Years of Pothy making has left me with a very large stash of little balls of yarn; mostly of the size that there is no longer enough to make a full pair of slippers with. They’ve been waiting patiently for just such a project. No longer content with being there for pom-pom making or some sort of child-orientated, shape wrapping; they wanted to get involved with something Big.
Part of my Pothy History is inheriting a huge amount of wool from the lovely Monica who taught me to make Pothies a good few years ago now. Most of her wool has long gone but every now and again I have the heart swelling pleasure to lay my hands on some of ‘her’ stash. It is so wonderful to discover it, it reconnects me instantly to sitting on her sofa, surrounded by cupboards FULL of wool, all laid out in colours and then sectioned further into Synthetic and Wool categories. It smells of moth balls and she has that amazing rattlesnake grass in a pot on her kitchen table, along with a newspaper to protect her table.
See there? It says wool and the end is charred where she’s burnt it to identify the wool content. She’s weighed it out and added a label and then put it away and here I am years later, finding it and adding it to my new love affair. Doesn’t it look great?
So, this blanket is going to be full of little pieces of wool that hold their own stories, their own adventures to get to here and I am embracing the challenge to incorporate them all, no matter how tiny, how fluffy, how thick or thin! Further more, whilst it is still portable (and probably when it’s not) I’m taking it wherever I might have to wait a while, in the quiet place of the hooky rhythm I am indulging, wherever I can so that it may be stitched with memories.
Of days waiting at band practise, music and swimming lessons; of Sunday morning coffee drinking-podcast listening-lie-ins. Of Saturday night family film nights-popcorn-sofa fights. Many evenings where I’m shattered, but happy in my crochet silence, being with the colour, the yarn and the quiet rhythm and numerology of this Catherine stitch and my Self. Simply Glorious!