The First Breath of Summer

Just 3 days ago, I slipped on my winter jacket to take the pup for her morning walk. This morning I slipped on my shorts and sandals to do the same. Spring in New England is such a fickle thing. One morning it is 28 degrees and flurries fill the sky and the next it is 61 and sunny and birds have taken the place of the flurries. 

The warmth is so welcome after the cold winter we had this year. I love to hear the birds in the quiet of the early morning. They seem so delighted to be making nests and hunting for worms. I have seen many robins tugging away at the earth and then hopping away with their prizes. 

My hummingbird feeder is full of fresh nectar and waiting for the hummers to arrive. They generally arrive by Mother's Day and I take that as a gift from mother nature herself, just for me. 

Spring cleaning goes on in fits and starts. Windows have been washed and curtains switched out for happy warmer colors. 

I begin to put away my wools and pull out the cottons and silks.....and you thought I meant clothes, but I do mean yarn. Winter knitting is hidden away and summer knitting season begins. This spring it has been baby gifts and bright colored bags. I have a list of patterns I want to try. A pretty top from a magazine, a new beaded purse and perhaps  a cotton/silk sweater. 

In between the shining up of the house and spiffing up of the yard, I want to straighten out the fibers. Organize the yarns, color code the beads and alphabetize the crafting library. So much to do and so much ambition. However I will most likely take some needles and yarn and retire to a comfy chair in the shade and knit.

Sigh

I do love summer.

light knitting

Sometimes it is difficult to know where to begin a subject. Why do we do the things we do? Why do I bead? knit? sew? craft? sing? dance? laugh, cry? In some weird miniscule way, perhaps to leave something of myself behind so that someday, decades from now, someone will touch something I have created and remember the story of me. A legacy or perhaps just a pleasant anecdote.

I have arrived at a place in my life that most everyone reaches. Watching helplessly as my parents age and follow the path that will lead to the end of their time here. It has been more than difficult for me and for all of my siblings, and theirs. The last few years have brought changes in health and emotional well-being that (at one time in my life) I never thought possible. My friends and acquaintances as well, relate stories very much like mine. We seek comfort in one another, knowing that we have all become members of the same undesirable club. Looking for ways to allow comfort and dignity to the people who gave us life, raised us and then released us to the world to follow our own paths. 

Increasingly I find myself lost in thought about where I came from and where I still travel to in my life. I question my mortality and theirs. Why does it have to be such a difficult road to travel? Does everyone have to be ill or in pain to finish their life? Why don't doctors have the answers? Why can't I find answers for them?

My parents' generation considered doctors and priests more than  human. They were the answers. They were always right; take this pill, say this prayer, do this, don't do that. And now after such a long time we find that they are human just like we are. They don't have the answers we need. They are struggling to find them, just as we are. We have put so much responsibility on them all that there is no way to succeed and they are afraid to say, "I don't know". 

The past 3 years or so have been spent in waiting rooms, doctor's offices, hospital emergency rooms and solitary prayer. The answers don't come and I find myself struggling to make sense of this natural and yet unnatural journey from birth to death. I try to shield my family and at the same time prepare them for what will come. I struggle to maintain a positive outlook and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail.  

The one thing I have learned is that, no matter how hard I try to have control of what will happen, I truly cannot control the outcome of most any situation. Life/death will happen and I will bear witness, but I will not have control. 

So I take up my yarn and needles, beads and glass, and make them a tool of my prayers. I reflect on the wonderful things I have had and hope to still have in my life. The people I cherish and love. I knit their stories and bead their smiles into my simple offerings and hope that in my small quiet way I am honoring them; those I know, have known and will know in my lifetime. 

I try always to breath positive energy and love into every stitch, every bead. If I have difficulty banishing the negative feelings and energy I set aside the piece so as not to taint it. 

Negative energy is for cleaning. I wash, dust and scrub away as much of it as I can. Rake, shovel, scrape, paint, sort, throw away, polish and shine. Once I have exorcised the "dark" and I feel the "light" I can return to the craft. 

So why do we do these things? the knitting, the sewing, the beading the singing and dancing? Probably so the light will never leave our hearts for long. You may not see me on my knees in a pew, but you can be sure that if I gift you with something I have made with my hands, I have prayed each bead, each stitch, each note. 

My heart is heavy today but I took, comfort in my needles and fibers. You may not be able to know the story when you hold this piece, but perhaps some of the spirit that helped me craft it will make your heart smile. 

in search of spring

Now, I just wonder if spring has given us a pass here in New England. The snow was flurrying this morning when Lily and I took our little first walk. The sun came out to tease us for about a half hour at around 9:00, but then it scurried away and now it is grey and sad out there. For this reason, I would like to return to my bed with a book about the beach. Instead it will be spring cleaning and baby knitting for me today. I keep imagining that if I spring clean the inside of the house, then mother nature will notice how bright and shiny it is and warm us up. I hope for a summer so long and hot that my wool will stick to my fingers as I knit and my beads will stick to my  hands so that I curse the heat. Ha! Of course, anyone who uses needles of any type will know that we simply adjust the materials to fit the weather and I will do that as well. Silks and cottons, and pre-strung beads to knit into something cool and lacy will be the order of the season. Sigh! 

But, there is hope. I have been knitting tiny things for baby gifts. They make everything more hopeful. Sweet little garments of light, soft colors. They make me smile and know that summer will come and bring sweet little people to wear them.