Falling into the blankets

chateaux1

The Chateau

One day the maple tree behind the house began to change colour and the next day another turned red. Out of all the seasons fall is my favourite, the days are still reasonably warm with enough sun and the nights are cold. One of the seasonal changes I missed living on the West coast was the leaves changing colour and this signals I can now bring out my knit blankets, sweaters, hats and scarves.

I sat outside on the little deck my husband made me, contemplating making a fire when eight deer walked by on their way to the neighbouring field for the night. ‘Just keep walking sweetheart, one of you is going in my freezer’ I said. Four of them looked at me as if to say ‘yeah, right’ and I had to concede out loud ‘you’re probably safe. Move along’. I watched them chew on some grass as I justified their demise in my mind (population control that turns into food) until it got dark.

blanket 005

One of many

I tucked myself in on the couch under a blanket and tried to remember how to crochet; I was giving myself a hard time because my grandmother taught me all these things but I have forgotten.  I ran my hands over the blanket; some old lady who could probably knit blindfolded spent hours making this. My fingers fumbled over each knot, twist and hole as if it was braille and for a moment I was envious. Someone has created something beautiful, not another human being, which has lasted well beyond them. I can only knit and crochet in a straight line; straight not being quite accurate.

The blanket not only made me feel warm but the sentiment behind it made me feel special even though it was not made for me. I was beyond comfortable, it was as though heat was radiating outward and I felt completely at peace. I wrapped it tightly around my shoulders and pushed myself down into the sofa with a sense of being home, safe and loved.

Someone died and their ungrateful little shit kids cleaned out their house and dumped everything at the Dead Old Lady Store where I bought it. I felt as though I had rescued a masterpiece that only I could fully appreciate not only because of my lack of talent but because it was here and I could touch it. I hope someone this winter is cold thinking ‘mom used to knit warm blankets’ realizing what they are missing out on now that this blanket is no longer there.

My old office and there is a knit blanket!

My old office and there is a knit blanket!

All throughout human history we managed to cover ourselves and the people we care for with pieces of material. They not only helped us fend off sickness and shielded us from the elements but they hold woven stories of peoples of a particular time and place; the class distinction that came along with having something like this, the cost of materials, tools and talent but colours meant something.

I have no idea how someone came up with knitting, far beyond a series of knots and weaving, let alone all the fancy little patterns they create. I imagine she was sitting by a fire someplace and was bound and determined to not only to make something functional but pretty. Not long ago every home had some of these, a testament to ability, creativity and pride; making something that sets you apart from someone else. We modern women are no longer required to know how to make such things, the talent now lost to most of us because of gender progress and the reality that wealth is now measured in what we can buy and how those who still make their own things is mistaken as a form of poverty.

Banditovichski on a knit blanket!

Banditovichski on a knit blanket!

I let out a happy sigh; I could lay here for hours and fall asleep like this. I love fall, all the windows in the house were open but there I was content and warm when I had an epiphany: so this is what cuddling is but only done with a human!!!

My husband might be right; I might have been born an old woman.

3 comments on “Falling into the blankets

  1. kdaddy23 says:

    I’ve crocheted huge afghans and it’s just so much fun to do and more so when it gets so big you need to store it in a trash bag while you’re trying to finish it. I found that I like crocheting more than I like knitting; my mother taught me how to knit, poly wife #1 taught me how to crochet and once she did, I retired my set of knitting needles.

    See, I read this and now I want to dig out my set of crochet hooks and raid A. C. Moore for a carload of colorful skeins…

    • kdaddy23 says:

      Oh, almost forgot! I saw the title of this blog and said to myself, “I gotta read this; first she trips over rocks, now shes taking a header into blankets…”

    • Pyx says:

      I hope I can make it to that level, a whole blanket sized odd shaped square. They are just so pretty, and it’s not about the pattern but no two are the same… well I guess i could make two the same but that would seem silly.

      I still FEEL more comfortable knitting but certainly my wrist and fingers seem to enjoy crocheting – I got a scarf done in a few hours without fingers locked around a needle.

      My grandmother taught me – of course, this woman seems to have taught me everything – but I must say that I am tankful for youtube, because I have forgotten most of what she taught me, there are some nice tutorials I can follow!

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