I feel like a true knitter. There’s snow on the ground and I’m knitting. I had to go to New Mexico to find this snow, but I have become legit because of it.
I’ve been knitting for over thirty years. I’ve knit hundreds of things, and even make money selling my pieces. And yet, it takes snow falling from the sky for me to feel legit, kind of like a white Christmas adding authenticity to the holiday.
Most of my knitting has been done in Texas, though I learned to knit when I lived in Switzerland. My children were babies, and knitting was something I did to keep them warm. There was a lot of snow knitting in those days.
Until the past few years, and since returning to Texas twenty-odd years ago, knitting was mostly relegated to our short winters. One hundred degree temps and day after day of blazing sunshine are not conducive to knitting with wool. Even worse, the kids slowly became old enough to realize that mom’s bulky hand knits were neither practical nor cool enough to wear around their friends.
But now the kids are grown and they love the things I knit for them. They’ve brought two additional adults into the family to knit for these past few years, and maybe one day there will be babies to keep warm once again.
Everything comes full circle.
What is it about knitting on a snowy day that adds authenticity to the activity? Is it the same as when I felt I wasn’t a “real” runner until I ran a marathon? Just like running on an overcast day with cool temps and no humidity, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing on a rare snowy day than knitting. For whatever the reason, it makes me feel real.
Knitting. Running. Family. My top three in a nutshell.
Quite simply, this is what it’s all about. Surrounded by my family, I knit in front of an open fire. It crackles and spits, and my knitting grows. Outside my window, the snow comes down in a steady rain of beautiful white flakes.
It’s definitely a day meant for knitting.