Weaving Song

In 1993 we moved to Sanford, NC and I began a new chapter in my nursing career as a hospice nurse.  One of the first tasks was to get to know the local physicians and the roads.  In service of this goal I set out for Goldston, NC to meet Dr. Holt. I dutifully asked my coworkers for directions and headed out on Highway 421.  I drove and drove and drove, enjoying the sunny day, the beautiful countryside and getting to know my new home.  Needless to say this was before cell phones and GPS so when I felt like I had driven quite far I stopped at a small convenience store. Walking into the convenience store was like stepping back in time.  Several ladies quilting around a frame looked up at the stranger at the door. When I asked how to get to Goldston one of the ladies said "oh honey, you can't get there from here." My first watercolor ever! I had traveled south on 421 to Mamers rather than north to Goldston as planned.  Fast forward to 2016 and I wanted to do a ...

I have lost the urge to knit.  Normally my hands and brain seek out that rythmic calm movement.  But not recently.  I think it is the socks.  I started them as we do all knit projects with high hopes.  An elegant pattern, Irish Oats  and a very simple natural yarn.  I started the socks on a dream trip to the southwest with Rachel.  All the wonder of Monument Valley and Canyon de Chelly and especially my joy of a week with dear daughter knit and cabled together.   They languished on the needles, got lost during our move and surfaced in December.  Back to knitting during meetings and car rides.  These socks have a lot of miles on them.  Not the literal miles to Arizona but all the miles my heart traveled in the knitting.     When my sister fell at my house on Christmas Eve and was airlifted to Chapel Hill along came the socks.  Stitches knit through three weeks of waiting, worrying, praying and crying.  O...