Tranquillity of crocheting

Yesterday I was in both retrospective and introspective mood. Now familiar and comfortable, it strikes me sporadically, but is sure to spring up around my mum’s and my birthdays (They are so close together that I view them as one). I would love to walk for few hours on my own - contemplating quietly, letting go of the current noisy everyday clutter that took secure residence in my brain and opening the flow to the wiser deeper thoughts. But rain and loved but constant presence of the Babe kept me close to home. So I used every trick to encourage the Babe to play by herself or at least to happily enjoy gentler activities with her subdued mum.

We lay on the bed. She put her tiny warm hand on my arm. I stoked her fingers with my other hand. She looked in fascination and then reached out, stopped my moving fingers and slowly and softly started to explore them. And so we stayed there for another magic ten minutes, taking turns stroking each other fingers. Occasionally she would grunt unhappily, arrest my movement, force me to be still. I guess she had some type of game plan and I was too slow to figure out the finer details of the rules.

And later, when she played on her own, I baked bread and finished crocheting a doily. I never learned to sew, embroidery frustrates me, knitting disastrously ends after few lost stitch; but I love crocheting. Treble, treble, treble, few chain stitches, treble, treble, treble. I count, my hands move to the rhythm, the thoughts disappear and my mind achieves temporary tranquillity.

However now my brain is abuzz with ideas for new crochet project – I may try making something different, like a hat or a bag or bead crocheting, there are just so many doilies small two-bedroom flat needs: