I spent most of last week pruning, planting, or making plans for future planting. We grow fruit and nut trees, bush fruit, vegetables, tubers, and herbs.
That sounds like a lot, and it is. But we have added gradually to our green portfolio over the years so that it never seems too overwhelming.
This intro may make it sound like I’m a born-and-raised farm girl. Uh, not so much.
Just the smell of cow fields turned my stomach until about 5-10 years ago. I grew up with a few gardenish things within my sphere of awareness. However I never did much garden work beyond my childhood escapades in gathering raspberries from my grandma’s towering bushes. (After eating my fill, of course.)
Between life, necessity, and an evolving set of desires, we began the transition from “city life” (if that’s what you call living in a bustling small town in West Virginia) to “rural life” on a farm in a West Virginia hamlet.
The aspect of this transition that I did not expect was my expanding awareness of the seasons and cycles of this beautiful world.
After decades of living In Town, I certainly was aware of the weather and seasons. I knew when the sun would rise. I knew what months we would need to mow the lawn. I knew when the river would be warm enough to wade in.
I did not know when to expect the moon to rise. I did not know that you had better keep the gate secure or else you’d be chasing cows out of the neighbor’s yard. I did not have a deep understanding of the rhythms of growth—animal and plant—that span the entire year.
Breath of the Seasons
In my choir days, directors (myself included) loved to use this expanding toy to demonstrate breathing.
Take a moment to close your eyes, envision this ball expanding and contracting slowly, and just breathe with it.
Oh my goodness, that feels good! (I think more people would practice deep breathing and mindfulness if they could play with toys like this one while practicing!)
The cycles of the year are as dependable as a deep breath. They ebb and flow. They expand and contract. Outside work grows to a frenzy of daily outdoor tasks that chase the sun across the broad sky. Then the amount of work diminishes until the dark evenings offer a respite so that one can rest and prepare for the coming spring.
Living in harmony with the seasons really is a more peaceable way to live.
Knitting Season
My knitting seems to ebb and flow, just as the seasons do.
Like preparing for planting season, I have to plan my projects so that I can gain the best yield from my stash and new yarn purchases. I also have to maintain a balance between creating projects from my pattern library and designing new patterns.
Then, like planting, I cast on. Cast On Day often requires a great deal of thought and attention, but it is also so very exciting.
Then I knit. I tend my yarny garden—allowing the stitches to grow, and pruning out any mistakes or complications that arise.
Finally, I harvest. The bind off is finished and I can weave in those ends.
Before I can put my produce away for the year, I have to can or freeze or dehydrate. In my knitting, this takes the form of blocking, sewing on buttons, or completing any other finishing touches.
Then my growing season, like my knitting project, is done. I can enjoy the bounty of my (plant or yarn) harvest. I can take a few deep breaths of relaxed assurance in a job well done.
Not too many breaths, though, because the next growing season is right around the corner.
Coming Soon It Will Be
Be sure to check out my next post! My newest pattern—the Luminous Are We Cowl— will be here in time for May the 4th!!! The design, colors, and title are all inspired by my favorite Jedi Master—the imitable Yoda!
To find currently available patterns and tutorials from Mountain Song Designs….
A wonderful analogy. Thank you for sharing your farming/knitting comparisons. I’ll definitely see my knitting etc in a different way from now on. 💚
I love this - Then I knit. I tend my yarny garden—allowing the stitches to grow, and pruning out any mistakes or complications that arise. :)