by Lucy Edington

Created on: July 16, 2009

When one knits, there are so many emotions connected to the act. Scores of us learned our craft from cherished relatives, friends or teachers; that we feel we honour in some way through every stitch. Our work is the result of many hours of our life spent in pursuit of pattern perfection. Countless thought-threads are bound in amongst our yarn, and a little of who we are has been left in the finished article. It is through all of this that we knit heartfelt gifts.

It can sometimes be hard for non-knitters to understand the pride wielders of the needles feel in completing a gift for a loved one. Knitters have a lingo all their own, and have a tendency to effuse joy in the texture and colour of yarn; in what others may deem an overzealous manner. But there is no denying that when these somewhat exuberant crafters bow to the task of making someone a present, they throw themselves into it with such gusto that it cannot help but be apparent in the resultant offering (if one is open to looking).

There are many sad tales of neglected Christmas and birthday presents from Granny that have been banished to the back of closets, as they did not fit or looked hideous. This is understandable, but very disheartening. The modern knitter bypasses this undesirable outcome by indulging themselves a little longer than is strictly necessary in the planning stages. No seasoned knitter can easily resist the hallowed beacon of a yarn store window at the best of times, but when one has a gift to make they are all but helpless against its thrall. Patterns are examined, yarns are tested and discussed, allergies are taken into account and, for the really eco-conscious, carbon footprints are considered. Even those stronger characters, who decide to seek a solution to a gift conundrum in their personal yarn stash, still mull over the same points.

Then there is the agonising over whether the loved one the knitter has in mind will use the gift, whether they will desire design enhancements or different buttons. Everything the knitter knows about the likes and dislikes of their intended recipient runs through their head while they settle down to make the pattern. Strict measurements are adhered to; late nights are welcomed as targets are set for each day. Satisfaction is only attainable if this offering on the needles makes the loved one smile, upon being given it.

Eventually the big day comes. The last sewing up has been done, the present is clean and blocked and wrapped up in pretty paper. The culmination of all one's hard work is awaiting the judgement of someone one holds dear...

I believe it to be difficult, these days, to agree with any recipient who has the effrontery to suggest a knitter's gift is in any way boring or common-place; or anything less than heartfelt.

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