Summer Knitting: How to ride out a Fiery August

In the beginning, there was me created in the image of my creator.

Now, I watch as my other half is taking shape. She is a mirror image of me, and even in her unfinished state, she is beautiful.

My body wet, fingers stretched out with blocking pins, I wait for her. Still connected with a cord, my soon-to-be partner twists and turns in the hands of our creator. Before long, I will be united with my mate.

Oh! What happened? The knitting hands, having knit, have suddenly stopped.

From within a box, a soft light falls on the gentle hands, now at rest.

A voice resonates from the lit space. It is the voice of a woman.

And she has a question:

“Did you visit the botanical garden today? like you planned?

It’s 39º Celsius outside,” my creator replies,“102º Fahrenheit for you in the US. And the Terral is blowing – like your Santa Ana winds. No, I didn’t go. Someone put the fan setting on in this burning August oven.

It’s evening here in the south of Spain, but it’s still hot.

“So what did you do all day?” the voice wants to know. “Tell me while I drink my morning coffee.”

My creator slides me onto her hand and holds me up to the light. “I made this – my finest creation to date”

“In this heat? A hobo glove?

summer knitting

“No, not exactly,” says my creator, deftly pulling the attached hood over her fingers. “Mine is more sophisticated.”

A face peers through the light of the screen to examine me.

“You’re nuts. What are you going to do with your ‘sophisticated’ hobo gloves on the Costa del Sol?”

“They’re not for me. I’m making them for Aysha.”

That’s a lie! She kept trying me on – to make sure I fit on her own hand. How I wish I could speak.

“Really? says the face in the light. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the honest truth! You know she has arthritis, and it gets pretty cold in the winter.”

“You can buy them on Amazon, you know.”

“Yes, but…”

“But…” I complete her unfinished sentence, “this is what I do. I can’t help myself. Winter crochet or summer knitting, it doesn’t matter. I create.”

Here, look at my fellow creatures – all beautiful – but like she told that woman earlier, I am her finest creation.


Click here to read more about crafts and the creative process: Beautiful Imperfections: Interlocking Threads with Memories

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