I'm sorry . . . I've been absent for awhile. It hasn't been a very good knitting time for me. My aunt Audrey (one of two aunts that taught me how to knit) passed away at the beginning of the summer, and my dad - who had been sick - passed away at the end of June. Add a little heat and humidity to the mix and the result is that the sweater I have been working on for my friend Judy has been left to languish in my knitting bag.
So this morning when I took my coffee out to the deck to listen to the birds sing and enjoy the cool air, I began to fondly remember the many summers I spent with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins at the family beach house in Mattapoisett. Into my head popped all those things you are told as a child/young adult and then conveniently ignore. So many times from my father I heard "If the job is worth doing, it's worth doing right" . . . "You get what you pay for" . . . "Get the right tools for the job". . . And when Audrey caught you sitting in a beach chair doing nothing . . . "Well, where is your knitting?"
Indeed. Where was my knitting now? I put down the coffee and quickly went into the house to get it.
As I sat and knitted away on Judy's sweater, I couldn't help but smile.
(Yes Audrey, I am knitting. I am no longer just sitting idle. And if it gets too hot for the wool to be
on my legs, I will use a pillow case . . . just as you taught me.)
I am using Debbie Bliss yarn which moves through my fingers so smoothly. (Yes dad, you do get what you pay for - so I always use good yarn.)
The stitches are moving quickly from one needle to the next on my Addi Click interchangeables. (Yes dad, I splurged one day and bought really nice needles.)
I have also been checking my cable work throughout the project to make sure nothing is twisted the wrong way. (Yes dad, I'll do it right.)
I kept knitting and could picture the two of them, both in beach chairs, looking out at the ocean. Maybe they will turn to each other and say, "Hey, she was listening to us after all!" I was. To everything. Don't worry, I'll carry on. One stitch at a time.