Yarn speaks to me.
It tells me what it wants to be, and so much more. The yarn I love most is made of wool, the wool of sheep. I love its accent, how it tells me where it grew, about the sheep it insulated, about the pasture it roamed. Each breed of sheep has its own way of speaking. And each skein of yarn tells me its own kind of story. Yarn speaks to me. It tells me to look to the past to create the future. Not a duplicate of what came before, but an improvement joining what was, what is, and what could be. The lace motif from an antique doily becomes the central element on a modern shawl. The cable from a fisherman’s sweater decorates trendy boot toppers. The colorwork from antique socks accents the edge of a cardigan. Yarn speaks to me. It tells me that it’s OK to fail, to make mistakes, to be a beginner. Each stitch I make can be undone as easily as it was first created. And the yarn, perhaps, wants that to happen so it can spend more time with me, inspiring my creativity, before it is blocked into shape and passed on to warm someone else’s shoulders. Yarn speaks to me of everything. It is my way to understand the world. In each knitted item and in each ball or skein of yarn, I see eternity and possibility as well as history and beauty. Yarn speaks to me. Does it speak to you? What does it say?