I used to love to knit. My husband has always teased me about it, since I've been knitting since I was a teenager. I've always found it relaxing.
Then my baby girl arrived.
My latest project is a never ending stocking. Everyone in my family has the same knit stocking, and it seemed appropriate that little Icelynne should have the same one as well. With a know-it-all, can-do-everything attitude which I can't help but laugh at now, I decided last year that I would make her a stocking in time for Christmas. It didn't happen. Little did I know how much attention a newborn required.
Nearly one year later, I'm almost finished the stocking. There are a few holes from where a baby's cry distracted me and I dropped a stitch. The stitches are uneven from time spent knitting in the dark and constantly starting and stopping. My original thought was to use it this year and then redo the stocking, but now I'm growing attached.
I hope she uses it and loves it as a child as I did mine. But even more, I hope she cherishes it as an adult. I hope she sees the rough stitches and holes as evidence of the moments her mother tended to her. I hope she sees the flaws for what they are, the times I decided she was more important. I hope she learns to see the perfection in imperfection.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
An Unexpected Snowfall
We had an unexpected snowstorm last week.
It was one of those mornings when you open your eyes and think, "We've had snow!" The weather forecast called for five degrees and rain, but something about the red-colored sky that I could see out my window told me that the world around me had been frosted whilst I slept.
I sat up slowly, as if afraid to look out the window and see the dead grass and barren branches below, but to my eyes' delight I saw the shimmering, glimmering world I'd hoped for.
I lifted little Icelynne up to see it, and she looked with confusion. She likely didn't remember snow. I bundled her up quickly, and despite the fact the sun had not yet risen, I whisked her outside to see the magical transformation that had occurred overnight. She looked around in wonder. After letting her take it in for a moment I took her back inside where it was warm.
Despite the weather forecast saying it would be warm and the snow would be melted by noon, flakes began to fall that were the size of small snowballs. I so desperately wanted to go outside and be a part of it. I bundled her up again and grabbed a wooden sleigh I'd meant to have for her for Christmas. I ushered my dogs outside to enjoy the opportunity to play. Placing the baby in the sleigh, I pulled her around the yard again and again. Every time I asked if she wanted to go in, she shook her head and held tightly to the sides.
The four of us, dogs included, spent half an hour in the fresh air of our winter wonderland. We went inside rosy cheeked and happy. Within ten minutes the dogs and the baby were napping happily. The quietness of the house, the stillness of the moment, and the beauty of the snow falling was almost overwhelming. Sometimes such joy can be found in such simplicity.
I love those days when I don't have to close my eyes to imagine myself in Christmas Acres, those days when it seems I really do live there. These days are gifts. Pure and Simple :)
It was one of those mornings when you open your eyes and think, "We've had snow!" The weather forecast called for five degrees and rain, but something about the red-colored sky that I could see out my window told me that the world around me had been frosted whilst I slept.
I sat up slowly, as if afraid to look out the window and see the dead grass and barren branches below, but to my eyes' delight I saw the shimmering, glimmering world I'd hoped for.
I lifted little Icelynne up to see it, and she looked with confusion. She likely didn't remember snow. I bundled her up quickly, and despite the fact the sun had not yet risen, I whisked her outside to see the magical transformation that had occurred overnight. She looked around in wonder. After letting her take it in for a moment I took her back inside where it was warm.
Despite the weather forecast saying it would be warm and the snow would be melted by noon, flakes began to fall that were the size of small snowballs. I so desperately wanted to go outside and be a part of it. I bundled her up again and grabbed a wooden sleigh I'd meant to have for her for Christmas. I ushered my dogs outside to enjoy the opportunity to play. Placing the baby in the sleigh, I pulled her around the yard again and again. Every time I asked if she wanted to go in, she shook her head and held tightly to the sides.
The four of us, dogs included, spent half an hour in the fresh air of our winter wonderland. We went inside rosy cheeked and happy. Within ten minutes the dogs and the baby were napping happily. The quietness of the house, the stillness of the moment, and the beauty of the snow falling was almost overwhelming. Sometimes such joy can be found in such simplicity.
I love those days when I don't have to close my eyes to imagine myself in Christmas Acres, those days when it seems I really do live there. These days are gifts. Pure and Simple :)
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