There are so many good things about knitting for me. It keeps my hands busy while I’m watching movies or television (or even reading!) so I don’t snack or get otherwise distracted. I’m able to make things that I like in whatever fibre or colour I want. I can make gifts for people that are very personal.
Lately, though, I’ve been musing on the transformative quality of knitting. You start with string, and in the case of a sweater you turn that string into a fabric, which becomes a piece of something, which becomes a whole. Something relatively abstract becomes something concrete. A recognizable and practical garment that is, one would hope, comfortable, warm, and possibly even beautiful.
How often in life does that happen? I spend my days at work doing things that you can’t really see. I love my work and it’s satisfying, but still somewhat frustrating to toil all day and have nothing to actually show for it unless you count the monthly paycheck (which is a delight).
Knitting has become necessary for me. If I’m away from my knitting for too many days I get edgy. It’s certainly not the only thing in my life that has this sort of effect in its absence, my husband and exercise are also essentials, but it’s in a small club of things I don’t think I could live entirely happily without.