The Little Village Under the Tree.

Day 1 of 365

Last night I was at the store and was wandering around, as usual. I ended up tossing some misc things in my cart along with the actual cat food I was there for.

Needles. Yarn. "Teach Yourself to Knit" book. and a little craft case to put it all in. It's black. With Polka dots. And on my way home I went.

I have wanted to learn how to knit for quite some time now. My grandmother used to crochet, yes I know - whole different ball game. I remember her sitting there in her recliner, needles in hand, working away, creating masterpieces. Beautiful doilies and throws. Gorgeous.  I wanted to do it so bad I smuggled home some of her needles after the end of one summer, and got myself into quite a load of trouble for it too. But all I wanted to do was be just like Grandma. Because Grandma was cool.

I have now learned how to cast on and make stitches and am currently on row 7 of a 35 stitch per row scarf. It is blue. The yarn is. All shades of blue and it is going to make one beautiful scarf when I am done. Now, it may just be the most hideous looking piece of clothing you will ever see. But that is okay, it is my scarf and it is my first. And it reminds me of my grandmother. Sitting in her chair twiddling away with the yarn and needles. Crocheting.

But I am knitting.

And the reminders of my grandparents house fill my mind with each stitch I make. The smell of the wood stove, the crackling of the fireplace, my grandfathers voice, the seed and Country Today magazines that filled the coffee table. The little village that always sat under the Christmas tree during the holidays. The cattle outside in the pasture, the endless summers I would spend there going to the pasture, with Grandpa, and getting the beef cows to prep them for the County Fair... all of the memories come flooding back. And it makes me warm inside. Happy and warm. But also filled with some sadness that my grandmother will never see me knit. We will never be able to sit side by side and twiddle away together, watching out the patio door at the birds, waiting for Grandpa to come in for the day, hang up his cap and remove his well worn cowboy boots. Sit down on the couch next to Grandma's recliner and ramble off the days events. Reminiscing of the days gone by. Because they are gone. Both of them, but, forever in my heart reminiscing memories, filling me with warmth and happiness.