The unambitious knitter
I’m not much of a knitter. Not for me the stripy hats, argyle socks and cable cardigans. My needles come out every autumn, with the tights and fairy tales, for just one scarf, of the simplest pattern.
I relearn how to cast on at the start of each project, and progress slowly, as I don’t know how to unpick mistakes. But still, the scarves are made. As the nights get colder, they grow - stitch by stitch, into a new season.
This year’s scarf isn’t quite finished yet. It’s accompanied many evenings, of series or film watching, with a helpfully uninterested cat on my lap. I find it hard to focus on one thing at a time, a grief scar I think, or perhaps the symptom of an empty house, so knitting helps me pay attention to what’s happening on the screen.
I also believe there is real value to having creative hobbies you’re not particularly good at.
I have no ambition to knit any shape other than a rectangle, or to do the work to keep up to a complex stitch pattern. I am satisfied with simply seeing the fabric grow from a pile of yarn, with the tactile feel and sound of bamboo needles, and the surprising dexterity that comes with repetition and muscle memory.
Just like making a simple recipe you know works and will leave you and your family fed and comforted, with no need for fancy plate settings, precise time-keeping or flourishes, the basic process of making, competently if not brilliantly, is a wonderful way to calm the mind, and reset the creativity switch, before moving on to other, more ambitious projects.
