There’s absolutely no reason for being rushed along with the rush.
Everybody should be free to go very slow….
What you want, what you are hanging around the world for,
is for something to occur to you.
Robert Lee Frost
I am pretty sure most of you know I live on a working farm and yes I do work hard but since this “Polar Arctic Vortex” came along I just don’t want to talk about it so I will be posting stories of things that will take me away from that for a tale or two.
It was 6:30 on a Friday morning and I was sitting at the train station. I had my most treasured travelling companion sitting on the chair beside me, an old blue backpack, the one that has seen many travels and adventures the most memorable and exciting one being that Train to Vancouver trip. Today I had a new travel companion, a bag with three balls of coloured yarn all mixed together into a gigantic ball and a pair of circular knitting needles. I settled in.
I had been debating on bringing my tablet and sit surfing the net as usual but I felt this need to leave the technology at home for this trip and thought I would try to free my mind and start working on a hat I had promised my Auntie M. I certainly knew I had lots of time there in the train station since I was four hours early. Why you ask…. well, the ticket was cheap and My Hero could drop me off on his way to work. A chance to spend some time and conversation with My Hero while driving early in the morning just before my going away for the weekend and in turn leaving him to do all my chores was something I wanted to do.
On reaching the station I hugged him goodbye and told him to be careful during the darn cold and snowy weekend forecasted and I would see him Monday evening and left him with the words, do not forget to pick me up; we both laughed knowing that would never happen. He would certainly notice the quietness of the house while I was gone.
The train station was empty except for a man pushing a broom, a man standing behind the ticket counter, and there was also a young lady brewing coffee at the snack bar. I pulled off my coat and dragged the needles out of my bag and cast on. I thought about the two other hats stuffed in my bag one for my brother the artist and one multi-coloured fancy red one to impress the people in the big city, this is my story so I can say that.
I laughed when I thought of the time I showed my friend the extremely talented knitter the many hats that I had knitted and she had called me an artist. I was flattered but then I started to think if she thought of it as an art piece because they are not your typical hats as I never stick to the so called “normal” colours or the fact that I have not yet read a pattern I just sort of go with it. I knew I had taught myself to purl, thank you You Tube, and now these hats were starting to look like others I have seen but I must admit they are still a little more wonky than most. I do hope that artist comment was not about the wonky. I do know Artists who their mistakes sometimes worked out for the best.
It was half an hour before my train arrived and I could not believe the time had went so fast and Auntie M’s hat was almost complete, I searched the bag for a darning needle to tie off but realized I had not remembered that little detail, I tied it off as best I could and cut the yarn with those childproof plastic handled scissors I had threw in my bag earlier that morning just in case, that is when I looked up I could see how full of people the station was now. I could not believe I was so engrossed in this little project I had not noticed. There was a woman across the row of seats watching me as I tried on the hat, not worrying about messing up my hair at all. She was so lovely dressed and looked very sophisticated and I thought she was thinking about what a country bumpkin I was and like I just came off the farm, true but I guess I did not want to be thought of like that. I smiled at her, she commented “Nice hat”, thank you, I smiled and pulled off Auntie M’s hat and stuffed it into my bag.
It is funny I never in my life thought I would be sitting in the middle of crowd in a very packed train station early in the morning knitting in public and not really worrying about how it looked to others watching my clumsy wonky technique that I seemed to have picked up, I have only knitted alone and with my Mom at the nursing home and with the other lovely ladies who sit with her, my Mom would always point out my bad technique. I am ashamed that I judged that very beautiful sophisticated lady by her looks and her mannerisms on what she may or may not have been thinking about this country girl just off the farm trying on a hat. I will not make that mistake again. You never really know what anyone is thinking.
The loud speaker announced my train…. All aboard…. I pulled on my fancy red hat, pulled on my coat and smiled and then stuffed my knitting bag into that old repaired blue backpack companion and slung it over my shoulders then headed across the snow covered sidewalk and up the steps of the train. Look out Toronto here I come, another artist….. I like the sound of that. Thanks Mom for those lessons.