comprised of the
for stars and
And they are, aren't they?
Something beautiful and rare...
"Perhaps he has never considered the invisible lines that run through his knitting, as they do through mine.
But I consider those lines. And I see them in other places. In the carefully placed blueberries on top of my locally made muffin. What was the baker thinking about when she made it? Will I taste a difference if she was worried about her ailing grandmother or dreaming about her boyfriend? Or in the way my mailman delivered my mail today? I'll never know what he felt as he dropped the circulars into my box, but I can guarantee this: He felt something, and if he was upset about the argument he'd had that morning with his wife, I hope that the act of clicking my mailbox shut and latching my gate acted as a kind of mechanical prayer.
The sensation of yarn slipping through my fingers has taught me that rote work, like dropping mail into boxes or placing blueberries on muffins or knitting garter stitches with bamboo needles, is seldom just an action, it is a wish, a dream, a desire; usually it is a distillation of all of these into a single overriding emotion: hope." -- A Life in Stitches: Knitting My Way Through Love, Loss and Laughter, by Rachael Herron
After reading Rachael's words I am even more certain.
of our days
Don't you see it?