When knitting a certain pair of socks became impossible, my dear Nana and I had a formal unravelling ceremony, complete with the disposal of the terrible pattern book that promised so much, yet explained so little.
We made three separate trips to the fabric store, purchasing and returning the yarn, the needles and the yarn again. These socks required a particular brand and type. We learned the color selections were very limited, and when we finally compromised, Nana began to knit. Within a few minutes, I heard a little voice. "Shit." A needle clattered to the floor. I investigated, and was horrified to see four needles at work at the same time! "That looks hard," I said, feeling a little guilty. After all, I had chosen the pattern; Nana wanted to knit the socks for me.
I've never made a pair of socks. My knitting projects are challenged at the mere shape of a rectangle. Nana, on the other hand, has been knitting her entire life, and had recently finished knitting a Pug dog. The sock project, however, was doomed to fail. Not far along, Nana realized the instructions were incomplete. Our abandonment of the sock project was a strategic withdrawal. Between her determined persistence for three days, and her gracious acceptance of the futility of the endeavor, Nana demonstrated an important emotional boundary. She knew when to stop trying to make it work.
Will Nana ever try to make those socks again? I suspect she could make them with her eyes closed; but she has other things to do. For Christmas, she knitted my daughter a Husky dog.
Ludwig Beethoven left us perhaps the most famous symphony ever - the Ninth - unfinished. Though he was deaf, and died without completing the composition, Beethoven's Ninth is legendary, fun, and incomplete. Perhaps his most famous symphony is greatly enjoyed, although he never finished it.
During the long weekend of the 2013 blizzard, it was hard to find things to do. Cabin fever sets in quickly these days, so we learn to plan ahead. In addition to the milk, bread, and batteries, we bring home a good book. This was the time to work on projects, and perhaps resurrect those that have been left unfinished.
A small plastic box contains grey and brown crocheted squares, left to me by my grandmother, Eudocha Jean Richard. Ten years ago, Grandma Dolly passed away, leaving her legacy in her gifts. Grandma was the knitter, the cake maker, and the seamstress. Raggedy Ann and Andy, Mary Poppins, and even a flip-flop doll with a long skirt that had two heads - one sleeping and one awake. (Grandma used the fluff from her dryer to stuff her dolls.) The little box of squares is my legacy. I will relearn crocheting and complete that project for my Grandma Dolly.
Getting out after the big storm, I dropped in to see my girlfriend. I arrived to find her happily ensconced in finishing abandoned quilting projects. Mining her storage bins, she unearthed scraps and starters, batting and sheets, spending the snowbound days in contented creation. She had three new quilts completed. A knitted shawl was next, needing just a collar. The sun was finally shining on the drifts of snow, the clouds cleared from the bright sky. Spring is many weeks away, still, but we have made plans to start another project together.
Nobody starts a project thinking to leave it unfinished. But if we demand the completion of every project, we will be unlikely to start any projects at all. And if we stall on a project too long, we get frustrated. There are so many more things we'd like to be doing, like knitting dog!
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