Spinning Yarns

I used to be an avid knitter. My sister-in-law got me started, an artist at heart and a reformed smoker. Her transformation was mesmerizing. Elegant wisps of smoke were replaced with clear beams of sunshine. A thin strand of indigo bowed and dipped from a basket at her feet. Fingertips that once tapped ashes now served as levers and pulleys. Bamboo wands cast spells of motion and magic until into her lap fell puddles of warmth that would grace the necks of lucky recipients. From her I learned the beauty of choice and creation. From her I learned motion within stillness. And from her, I learned that the joy in one’s art is often handed back long after it’s been given away.