knitting memories

when I spent my time color stranding ... many years ago -

Large projects were tackled enthusiastically.  Time restraints simply did not exist - the seductive nature of color knitting, of stranding to create designs, was captivating, mesmerizing.  Everything, complete, nothing more needed than just this - to sit with the fiber, to pull the colors, to feel the fabric gain and grow beneath my needles.

Where did all of that courage and discipline disappear to?  Today I am profoundly uncertain.   I sit with a growing mountain of designs, of charts, of ideas jotted quickly upon note paper.  Instead of granting my authentic dreams the space in which to grow - I tackle yet another project designed by a stranger - something quick and tested to be gratifying.  The small voice within clamors to be heard - I am listening, I am listening.  Perhaps this will be the year - the one in which I emerge with confidence - my dreams alive, in fiber.


I told Scott that I was leaving, that I could no longer live in a house that was crumbling.  (I do tend to lean toward the dramatic).  I want to see my hardwood floors again, I told him.  They've been covered under some kind of board for too many years - protected from plaster wall excavation, long over.  God bless that man, he heard my heart.  (he likes my cooking too well!)

It's the age old story of the Shoemaker whose children go barefoot.  Scott possesses a gift that is so unique and special.  He can build the house of your dreams.  He will get it right - down to the last detail.  His houses are magnificent, resplendent, and he has built for the ordinary guy as well as for super stars.  But when it comes to Home Sweet Home, he resists - there is a total lack of motivation.  Lately I think that we are beginning to  make some kind of progress.  I hope so.  This hallway speaks to me.  It tells me that COLOR is needed.  Any ideas?
Baby steps.