Many times when I begin a blanket, I begin simply with a group of sweaters that look beautiful together. I know that in the process of combining them, they will inform me of what they’re all about. I love diving into a project, trusting the materials to lead me. At some point we become partners: if the end doesn’t immediately satisfy, I keep pressing until it does.
I recently had several blue and gray sweaters strewn about my work area from the little boy blankets I’d been sewing. I kept thinking how I’d love a big blanket in those colors. So I sliced them up and started putting them together. These colors felt extraordinarily calming from the start.
The blue and gray were nice on their own — but a little more drama was called for. I added the charcoal pieces and found a charcoal sweater in cashmere to make into the bias binding.
Then I enclosed the blues and light grays by darker gray all around the edges. That’s when I felt it: You know that calm that falls at the end of the day when the kids are in bed, the house is nearly quiet, and you can finally think again? When the day and its din are drawing to a close? When your bed beckons to your tired body, and the blessed hope of rest whispers “Let go”?
Of course, in a few more hours the next day will begin with its own needs — that is the rhythm of our lives. I suppose there’d be an element of boredom without that.
But I’m eminently grateful for the rest in between.
“Quiet at Last” (54″ x 72″)
This blanket already has a home.