Whole hands Full

We’re down to a few days before the height of the holiday season.

When I was little, my parents helped me learn the concept of counting down to a big event by using the fingers on my hands. Ten days left was “two whole hands.” By the time this post is published, we’ll be down to less than one whole hand. In fact, Greg’s side of the family does their big thing a couple of days before the twenty fifth, so I’ll be down to less than a whole hand pretty quickly.

I say this every year, but it’s astounding to me how quickly time flies at the end of the calendar. One minute I’m sweating buckets walking to the mailbox, muttering about people who send warning emails to makers about how many days are left until Christmas, and the next I’m wishing I had about eleventy more fingers on my hands.

Because News Flash: I have only two hands and am blessed with five fingers on each. And I, friends, have run out.

I’m sitting here with a very few fingers left in my countdown and reality is sitting comfortably across from me with a big smile on her face, saying, it’s not happening this time, dear. You’re not going to be able to pull any rabbits out of hats and instantly produce perfect and lovely hand knits for everyone this year.

I’m picturing Reality as a smug sort of Lady Catherine de Bourgh character, with just a touch more appreciation and humor about human frailty about her. She hoots a little when she laughs.

I should have listened to the summer fearmongers and their warnings of holiday endtimes.

But maybe I’ll just sit with Madam Hoots for a bit.

The reality of making is that we’re not machines that can be turned on and expected to produce. As finite humans, we have seasons of high creativity and productivity, and other seasons when we seem to rest and recharge or focus on other things. I read an interesting and in-depth perspective on this, written by an artist and art instructor recently. Sometimes, we’re just not in the mode to be highly productive.

Similarly, no one needs to live with the pressure we can put ourselves under to create perfect masterpieces for people we care about. We may want to. We may want to a whole bunch of a lot. But isn’t that a hard expectation to set for ourselves every gift giving occasion? (Madam Hoots is looking right at us.)

We may be inordinately fascinated with yarn and needles, with color and texture and all things wooly. We may have enough yarn to cover ourselves and everyone we love three times over. We may have even taken good faith steps to accomplish that goal by December 25, 2025!

But if you happen to find yourself with me, facing reality with less than a whole hand left before deadline, let me remind you that it’s okay.

There’s no moral failure here. You’re no less of a person, maker, or knitter for not having made every gift you give. There are no deductions for giving IOU notes, one half of a pair of socks or mittens, or a skein of yarn with a “this will be transformed into _______ at the earliest opportunity!” tag.

In fact, if you’re feeling anxiety and stress mounting about unfinished handmade projects, you might consider putting them down now so you can enjoy the holidays. What if you gave yourself and those around you the gift of moments of undistracted presence for these last few days?

You might even consider putting all the pretty yarn away for a little while and giving yourself a year off from any knitted gifts. Madame Hoots has all sorts of opinions on alternative gifts.

Greg’s Got Questions:

Thank you to those of you who participated in the poll last week!

LAST WEEK’S QUESTION:

You’ve described how being personally involved with our sheep has changed your view of yarn and knitted items. I’m curious if this change in perspective has also affected how you view other things we consume. How have you seen this change in mindset impacted other areas of your life (if it has)?

I think the best answer to the first question is something along the lines of “I hope so.” and the best answer to the second is “I’m not sure yet.”

We are always changing. Our experiences, choices, what we consume, who we listen to, where and with whom we spend time, and a myriad of other factors transform us, day by day, into different people. None of us are exactly who we were a year ago.

So while I know, even from these early days, that caring for our wee flock is impacting the way I look at yarn, knitting, and the rest of the wool industry, I expect there is much more to learn. I am hopeful that shepherding will shape me, and that some of those ways will generalize far beyond the world of wool. I’m really looking forward to seeing where this journey will take us!

For now, I’m delighting in the opportunity to expand my experience to the very beginning of the wool use process.

Greg’s Questions for This Week:

Here are the questions up for the vote this week. I’ll answer the winner in the next newsletter. (As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: As someone who didn’t spend much time away from the engineering part of the Kansas State University campus during my college years, I’m going to need some help with the “Lady Catherine de Bourgh” reference. Who the heck is that and how do you pronounce her name?

Question 2: What advice would you give to someone who wants to make their first knitted gift? What lessons have you learned from your many years of giving your creations to others?

Question 3: I found it interesting how the author of the referenced article talked about how darkness and dim lighting can increase creativity and suggested that many be why some people love to create at night instead of during the day. Which part of the day do you feel most creative? And do you have a season of the year when you most like to create?

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J