A clothes line ...

... of finished (finally) projects ...
.

All finished
(from left to right)  youth size Noah's Ark, adult size star-shaped afghan made from leftovers of youth afghan and the one that started it all - baby size Noah's Ark

proudly displaying - for all the backyard to enjoy - the result of my recent efforts and endeavours.  The many enjoyable hours spend creating these projects (which are now in the mail to their recipients) and the not so enjoyable hours spent doing the drudge work, the work of weaving in the ends, making the fringe, etc.  

Of coursse, the backyard is mostly inhabited by birds doing flyovers, squirrels foraging for whatever they forage for - mostly my spring bulbs,  rabbits intent on nibbling away the bark on my tender trees, groundhogs and the occasion raccoon and/or skunk.  Not really the best audience for this incredible display of beauty - but the best I could do on short notice.

I am proud of these creations.  Inordinately proud.  They've been a challenge from start to finish.

Crocheting and knitting are right-brain activities but they also contain some left-brain elements.

Like reading the pattern.  Following the pattern.

With a brain that has been exhibiting fluctuating characteristics of brain injury, reading and following instructions can be problematic.  Also challenging.

And then there's the finishing....

On the two Noah's Ark afghans, the technique is such that if you get one stitch wrong, the whole pattern goes out of wack.  The crafter is literally creating a picture,  row by row, reading a diagram.  Creating something with yarn and hook out of thin air.  There is no tapestry to weave into.  No paper to paint on.  The picture literally forms row by row.  Out of thin air.   At first in each segment, it seems like a mess.  Like nothing beautiful or recognizable can ever come from this.  But as row builds upon row, the picture comes out.  Slowly.  Beautifully.

I love to watch the picture form beneath my fingers.

But I also feel frustrated when the mind won't cooperate with the fingers.  When the pattern comes out wrong.

At those times, I (wisely) choose to put the project down for a brief time. To focus on something (anything) else.  As long as it's right-brain, I mean.

For me that may mean a DVD.  Or a Sudoku puzzle.  Or a fresh (easy) project.

I've learned to keep more than one project on the go at any given time.  Especially at least one that is mostly right-brain for those moments when the left leaves the room entirely.  Knitting back and forth, back and forth or crocheting in a simple pattern.  Letting the rhythm of the needles (or hook) sooth my battered soul and emotions.

Of the three pictured on the clothesline above, can you guess which was the right brain one?  With all the colours, it may appear complicated but really it wasn't.  Simply crocheting around and around in a star-shape adding a new colour as an old one ended, using up the leftovers from two previous works (of art).

Hope your day is filled with good right-brained activity - and just enough left-brained to keep things interesting.

Knitting is NOT ...

... WHO I am.

Rather, knitting is what I DO.

I knit for many reasons.  One is for therapy. However,  primarily, I knit because creativity is in my DNA.   My mother and father painted.  I can't.  I can't even do a stick figure.  So I create with needles, hooks and yarns.

Some people spend hours in their garden.  Some go fishing - and have the fish tales to prove it.  Some spend the majority of their time working.  The character Gibbs in NCIS builds boats.  Me.  I knit - or crochet.  Whichever.  To me, since they are both in the fibre arts category, they're interchangeable.  At least for the therapeutic purposes in this blog.

Although knitting is my right brain activity, my brain never seems to quit working.  Racing.  Thinking.  However, with yarn craft, there is a difference to the thoughts.  The colours, the feel of the yarn through my fingers, the piece of work coming to shape beneath my fingers stir my thinking towards ideas for the next creation.  Maybe it's the same pattern in different colours.  Maybe it's a new project altogether.


Making the green slouchy beret was like that.  I began to think of making it in different colours.  Making other hats.  Once I'd successfully closed the circle at the top of the hat, I wanted to do it again.  And again.  And again.  I felt like a mountain climber when he's faced the huge challenge of scaling the peak and stands at the top looking down.  Only for me, I was standing over my work being blocked, looking at the perfection of it.  Feeling a huge sense of pride of accomplishment.

It was at almost the same time that I discovered that a friend of mine had been diagnosed with cancer and was facing chemo therapy and radiation.  Simultaneously, I discovered that a young woman I'd last seen when she was five years ago, had also been diagnosed with the same kind of cancer and was also facing chemo therapy and radiation.

There went the brain.  Into overdrive.  Brimming over with all sorts of ideas and thoughts.  The challenges.  The almost papable scent of creating (you know, like the scent of the chase).

There were many things I couldn't do at that point in time.  I had no idea.  Severe fatigue was my common companion.  I couldn't cook.  I could barely function.

 Normally, I'm a foodie and would have been right in there with offerings of home cooked meals.  However, I didn't even have the strength or energy to cook for myself and Papa Bear, so how could I walk with my friend during her journey of cancer, chemo and radiation?

I thought long and hard of what I could - and couldn't - do.

There was one thing I could do even in my weakened state.  I could knit.

I could knit (and crochet) chemo hats - for both of these ladies.

At one point, I said to my friend how I wished I could help her out with food to which she said, "A lot of people are making food for me.  My freezer is full.  You're the only one who can make me chemo hats."

The woman from my church (mentioned at the beginning of the preceding blog) was right.

Knitting is not whom I am.

                                                      But it is what I do.

                                                      More importantly, it's how I bless  people.

A box of "Goodies"