An old friend is back again...

August was a difficult month for my little family. It all started when my baby brought home a stomach flu... a bad one.... and it quickly became 'the guest that wouldn't leave'. Over a very long three weeks, the baby got it the worst, my oldest had it the longest, my man was the most pathetic and I didn't get much more than a tummy ache. Since we were in the throws of a heatwave, what had once been my living room had now become an infirmary and I was the on call nurse. Bodies were drapped over various pieces of furniture, buckets littered the floor and there was a veritable obstacle course of fans to overcome if one wanted to enter or leave it.  About 8 or 9 days into being housebound, I was tucking my son in and preparing for a night of fever checks and reassurance. I got up and wandered my home looking for something, ANYTHING, to do. I was ready to throw the television out the window at this point and was just too tired to read. Somehow I found my way into my linen closet and noticed my old basket of yarn and needles. I grabbed a set of needles and a ball of yarn and headed for the computer.
My mother taught me to knit at a very young age...  All the women in my family knit, very well in fact. My mother I must say, is a rare talent. She is quite an exceptional artist in so many mediums but the sound of ticking knitting needles will only ever remind me of one person. In the long, very cold Québec winters, anyone who was loved by my mother was always literally warmed by the fruit of her labour. From sweaters to mits to hats to scarves. In all my years of knitting (and I have always enjoyed knitting), I have only ever made scarves and though from the heart, none of them were worth writting home about.
Having spent alot of time on Soulemama's website that week, I had seen that she knit a sweater for her youngest child (Harper) who happens to be my baby's age. In retospect, I am surprised that on that night, sitting in front of the computer, I downloaded that pattern and started to knit.

For the next two weeks, through the hard times and slow progression towards health, I could be found sitting on the floor?..in the chair?...on the side of the tub?.. in the backyard under the fig tree?... smiling with the sounds of ticking kntting needles in my hands. Put down knitting, pick up bucket, encouraging words, wipe a face, kiss a forhead, pick up knitting, continue, repeat.:) By the end of the 3 week ordeal, I had completed that sweater and even after accidently felting it by putting it in the washing machine on delicate (who knew?).. it still fit my boy and I was proud of myself.

This first sweater finished, I set my eyes on the winter holidays.. the Yule Sweaters I call them. Three sweaters for my men and a knit bag for myself.  I fell in love with a little yarn shop on Main St called Three Bags Full,  filled my yarn basket with a bounty of new yarn, found some patterns and off I went. So far it has been quite a challenge but I haven't given up yet:)
Coming from generations of knitters, it feels like I have found something I had lost.. I am thankful.