Category: Crochet

Spring rain—
An ancient pattern gleaming
On the turtle’s shell

—Swist ( S.B.U. 95)

January is hardly the time to seek out fresh strawberries, as growers reach deeper into their refrigerators to salvage the remnants of a crop long past. On optimistic days I might hope that perhaps the supply has somehow improved, based on the vibrant colors and unblemished skins presenting themselves through their plastic carton, taking a gamble and trying again. Looks are only skin-deep with every new batch, and the taste, if at all present, inevitably leaves one disappointed.

Does this mean that my strawberry craving will have to go unfulfilled until the arrival of spring? Well, for the most part I suppose so, but that doesn’t mean I can’t treat my eyes to the joy of this fragile and finicky fruit. The ruby red jewels for sale at the grocery store may as well be made of yarn for all their flavor! In fact, thinking this over as I held a deceptively succulent-looking container in my hand, that wasn’t such a bad idea in the first place.

Pulling an old favorite recipe out of my file, I whipped up a fresh strawberry shortcake, topping it with ornate designs in pure white frosting and all of the gorgeous berries that my heart desired. Lovely as it was, I would never dream of putting it in my mouth, which could be the moral of the story here. I do love to make food that is pleasing to the eye, but the most artfully prepared dish could just as well taste like… Well, acrylic yarn. At the same time, thousands of other meals are being written off just because they’ve got a bad case of the uglies.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll hunker down with a big bowl of sloppy lentils and wait for the seasons to turn before tempting fate attempting to buy berries again, all the while jealously eyeing my beautiful cake.

Breakfast is usually my favorite meal of the day, whether I have the luxury of a relaxed, carefully crafted entree on the weekend, or even if it’s a hurried slice of toast before facing a full day of school. Just about any breakfast food in existence is generally all-around wonderful, often finding its way into any odd meal or snack. I don’t know about you, but cereal happens to be a normal dinner item in my house these days. With this casual approach to what is considered “appropriate” items for particular eating opportunities, I thought nothing of cooking up a nice big batch of bacon during a dinner date with a new friend.

Setting the uncooked protein down on the counter, I immediately noticed a shift in my friend’s body language. Becoming as stiff as a board and perhaps trying not to move in order to avoid detection, a worried expression clouded his eyes, soon giving way to unbridled fear. The tension emitting from this scared little piglet was so thick, you could cut it with a mere fork!

It didn’t take any spoken words for me to figure out what was going through his panic-stricken mind. So obvious was this horror, I could practically see his racing thoughts…

Bacon! How could she! If I don’t look out, I may end up as her next meal too!

Thankfully, this awkward misunderstanding quickly blew over once I removed the discarded cardboard covering from the trash, explaining my seemingly cruel choice in that evening’s supper. I hate even having real meat purchased by my parents taking up residence in the fridge, so it should never be a concern of any guests that I might touch it, let alone consider serving it. Besides, I’ve found that this fake bacon by Light Life tastes eerily close to the real thing, but made entirely out of soy and other vegan ingredients, you don’t need to be a pig to appreciate it!

Always on the lookout for different products to review, I like to think that I’ve developed a fairly keen eye for new arrivals on the grocery store shelves. Trips to the store some times become games, seeing if I can pick out each change that has occurred to the consumable landscape since last I visited. Lest I lead you to think that I while away my daylight hours prowling the dusty aisles of canned goods, there is rarely enough time to wade through such a vast array of neatly stacked packages. In fact, most food shopping expeditions could be just as easily called grocery runs, as looming appointments and deadlines force me to sprint to the checkout line to create something like a meal that evening. I usually try not to literally run through the store, my cart plowing through the sluggish shoppers and senior citizens in my way, but I won’t say this never happens.

Just such a grocery run was completed not too long ago, having scoured the empty cabinets for a snack to no avail. Barreling through produce and processed junk, I chanced to look up as I stooped down, reaching blindly into the selections of milk alternatives. From the steep angle in which I observed, all I could discern from the scene was that there was something different on the top shelf. Nothing more, nothing less.

Without a second to spare, this thought was promptly lost amid the rush to get home and promptly discarded. Accomplishing the main objective of grabbing last minute supplies, nothing could have been further from my mind than writing up any new food reviews that day.

Upon my return at a less manic time, I slowed my pace and took notice of an unfamiliar label nestled in among my standard selection of soymilks. Suddenly remembering the alien object I had previously spotted as if in some forgotten dream, I knew it had to be one and the same.

With little more identification than the title of “soy milk” emblazoned on the front in a cheerful royal blue, I wasn’t sure what to make of this newcomer. Advertising itself only as heart-healthy, I doubted it had anything more to offer than the other cartons of milky soy-products already on the shelf. Finding the simplicity of the design aesthetically appealing nonetheless, my natural impulse was to take it home and give it a fair trial, regardless of its questionable content.

Extending an open hand to seize this find, I froze abruptly as my eyes focused in on the price marked directly below it. Compared to the generic store brands that I tend to favor, this plain-Jane container may as well have been filled with liquid gold! Without being able to predict its staying power in such a competitive market, I’ll just have to hope that it lasts long enough for me to try it at a later date, perhaps when the costs justify the risk of adventuring away from my tried and true soy.

At long last, winter has taken away the residual summer warmth from the air in time for rain clouds to blanket the sky, and our area finally saw its first snow of the year! Granted, nothing stuck for more than an hour, and the precipitation could be scarcely given a more serious label than “flurries.” Being so late in the season now, I’ll take whatever I can get at this point, so merely watching those fluffy wisps of ice crystals drifting gracefully down to Earth was enough to keep me enthralled throughout the whole day.

Dreaming up countless activities for what I hoped would be a school cancellation due to snow the next day, I went to bed with thoughts of snowmen and warm layers of hats and scarves teasing through the folds of my brain. Every time I voice my desire for a snow day, my audience of the moment always reminds me in a grave tone, “You know you’ll just have to make up that time in the summer, don’t you?” As far as I’m concerned, the oppressive heat and endless, indifferent days of the summer vacation don’t even hold a candle to the free time awarded thanks to the harsh conditions in which buses are liable to slide right off the streets in winter.

Yes, I could see it now: Snow falling in sheets, coating houses and trees in a thick layer of powder. So cold that even the animals would be dressed up in thermal coats, enjoying themselves in a winter wonderland just as I had craved all year long.

Of course, by the time I awoke, not a single flake was in the air, on the ground, or otherwise visible. All evidence of any precipitation from the previous night had vanished while the world slept, and the school buses continued to run on schedule, ambivalent toward their missed opportunity to take the day off along with the rest of us.

I remained hopeful regardless, and even though the typical work day went like clock-work after that particular shower, we awoke with snow on the ground once again this very morning, appearing quietly without anyone the least bit aware.  My mom turned on a light outside when I told her the news, only to announce it was a “light dusting,” but at this point, it looks like it could be 3 feet deep to me.  Having lacked snow for nearly the entire season, I’ll take what I can get.

Sleep can be an elusive creature indeed. Sometimes the hours of one night feel as though they could encompass the span of 50 waking hours, but they still don’t take enough time to bring the sun back out of its hiding place. Lying in bed awake, it’s hard not to wonder what else is going on at that moment, when all seems still and dead. Somewhere things are still happening, but you’re not; You’re just existing in the dark, waiting for more light in the sky because that’s what we’re programmed to do. Only so many restless nights can pass on my watch before I start to feel sick. Exhaustion, yes, but excessive and hopelessly pointless thinking always gets me stuck in a rut, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, feeling the world passing me by…

Until one night, as I began my reverie, I saw a strange glow descending upon me. Had my mind finally gotten the best of me? Through the darkness I squinted, attempting to focus my maladjusted eyes, and I could have sworn I saw an angel…

Of course! It was Hello Kitty here to show me the way, using her magical powers of yarn! How could I have been so blind – I couldn’t sleep or think straight because my crafting had been slowly fading down until I would fail to reach for my crochet hook for a full 24 hours. That has got to be a sin if there ever was one. Feeling so unfulfilled and unproductive, it only made sense that I felt as though I were missing out on something.

So I leaped out of bed, not wanting to waste another precious moment. Barreling towards my yarn bins, all my hands were intent on accomplishing was finding raw materials to work with, reaching indiscriminately into the clutter. Blindly groping the shelves, I somehow found what I needed all along: A new project. The next few hours sped by, like disgruntled house guests that had overstayed their welcomes, finally leaving. Working into the daylight that seemed as though it would never break over the horizon, I fell into a deep slumber, craft at hand.

Upon waking, I was slightly disturbed at all of the chaos reeked throughout the room in my mad dash to cure the relentless insomnia, but all of a sudden I remembered my vision, of my Hello Kitty, and knew that she had always been real, no matter what anyone else said.

Crafting heals all hurts, whether they be physical or emotional. I’ve learned my lesson, never again to forsake its calming powers. Maybe from now on, I’ll treat this important activity with more reverence, knowing its potential for both good and evil..

Or maybe… I’ll just learn to stop having caffeine before trying to sleep. Either way.