Telling a Yarn
I love reading Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods Blog . It is part of my morning routine, part of my armchair travels. A couple days ago she posted about “A Corner of my Studio” in which she tells about making her now husband a hand crocheted quilt for his bed.
Her post started me thinking of hand crocheted quilts, Afghans or throws. My mother seemed to always have a bag with her and she would always sit and either knit or crochet something. Whenever mom and dad would visit she would get settled in a chair and start working on the latest project. Always after she and dad left, we would find little bits of yarn on, in and around the chairs she had used during their visits. I am certain all of my brothers and sisters have memories of mom and her bag of yarn. And even though my mother spent the last couple of years in a nursing home, when we cleared their house after dad died, we found bits of yarn way down in the chairs.
Shortly after I had my tracheotomy, a rather large package arrived in the mail. When I opened it there was a beautiful handmade Afghan. It was from my wife’s cousin. She had made it just the right size to place over my legs when I sit in the wheelchair. She said in the enclosed noted that this Afghan was an expression of love for her to me. My mother in-law also loved to make Afghans. She would make one for each of her grandchildren. For many years we had one of her Afghans over our living room couch.
Then about two years one September day I was sitting in my chair and the front door opened and in walked two older people. It was a man and his wife from one of the neighborhood churches. It turned out that a couple of days earlier they were going door to door in our neighborhood passing out information fliers about a daycare at their church. When they saw my sign on the front door inviting people to knock and walk in because I am in a wheelchair making it hard for me to get to the front door, they said they just had to return and visit.
We had a wonderful visit talking about many things. Than just before they got up to leave, they gave me a hand knitted or crocheted blue and white Afghan. It turned out that their church had a group of ladies who get together on a regular basis and make these Afghans to be used as welcome gifts when church members visit people of the community for the first time.
I wonder if the room these ladies meet in has bits and pieces of yarn floating around like our rooms did after a visit from my mother.
Her post started me thinking of hand crocheted quilts, Afghans or throws. My mother seemed to always have a bag with her and she would always sit and either knit or crochet something. Whenever mom and dad would visit she would get settled in a chair and start working on the latest project. Always after she and dad left, we would find little bits of yarn on, in and around the chairs she had used during their visits. I am certain all of my brothers and sisters have memories of mom and her bag of yarn. And even though my mother spent the last couple of years in a nursing home, when we cleared their house after dad died, we found bits of yarn way down in the chairs.
Shortly after I had my tracheotomy, a rather large package arrived in the mail. When I opened it there was a beautiful handmade Afghan. It was from my wife’s cousin. She had made it just the right size to place over my legs when I sit in the wheelchair. She said in the enclosed noted that this Afghan was an expression of love for her to me. My mother in-law also loved to make Afghans. She would make one for each of her grandchildren. For many years we had one of her Afghans over our living room couch.
Then about two years one September day I was sitting in my chair and the front door opened and in walked two older people. It was a man and his wife from one of the neighborhood churches. It turned out that a couple of days earlier they were going door to door in our neighborhood passing out information fliers about a daycare at their church. When they saw my sign on the front door inviting people to knock and walk in because I am in a wheelchair making it hard for me to get to the front door, they said they just had to return and visit.
We had a wonderful visit talking about many things. Than just before they got up to leave, they gave me a hand knitted or crocheted blue and white Afghan. It turned out that their church had a group of ladies who get together on a regular basis and make these Afghans to be used as welcome gifts when church members visit people of the community for the first time.
I wonder if the room these ladies meet in has bits and pieces of yarn floating around like our rooms did after a visit from my mother.
posted by UP at 7:43 AM
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