The joy experienced when I make things with my hands has always been with me since I was a little girl. The whole creative process is so intriguing and I still feel this way even though I am older now and thrust with the responsibilities of life.
I think about this so often when I am alone and my hands are going through the repeated motions of working with yarn and needles. The answer is always the same...I love the whole process the picking and choosing of a project, getting the yarn to work right in the swatch, working on the project and making entries in my journal about my progress and then finally putting all the pieces together.
I stand back and look at this garment, or this toy, or this whimsy and think with joy, “I made this” and my heart fills up with a feeling of blue skies and daisies and blades of green grass and snowflakes and velvety sand. The finished object goes into the closet surrounded by sweet smelling sachets of lavender and rose to be treasured, and to be brought out and rubbed against my face just to remember how I felt when I was making.
I think about this so often when I am alone and my hands are going through the repeated motions of working with yarn and needles. The answer is always the same...I love the whole process the picking and choosing of a project, getting the yarn to work right in the swatch, working on the project and making entries in my journal about my progress and then finally putting all the pieces together.
I stand back and look at this garment, or this toy, or this whimsy and think with joy, “I made this” and my heart fills up with a feeling of blue skies and daisies and blades of green grass and snowflakes and velvety sand. The finished object goes into the closet surrounded by sweet smelling sachets of lavender and rose to be treasured, and to be brought out and rubbed against my face just to remember how I felt when I was making.
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