My Lifeline

My needles neither flash nor click
They are wooden - light and strong in my hands -
And they whisper and glide as I work.
My fingers are neither supple nor fast
I work doggedly sometimes - how I hate to purl! -
But I make surprising progress unconsciously.
Knitting is my solace, my companion, my prayer.
Waiting is not endless, it's an opportunity
To be productive and enjoy the passage of time.

Sometimes I sit down to write and poetry falls out of my pen instead. Usually it's bad doggerel, sometimes it isn't. Anyway, good or bad, this is how I feel about my knitting. It's as much a part of my life as breathing is, and has been so for at least the past 15 years.

The weather is yo-yoing. I'd settle for six months of October, personally, but it's not up to me is it? My old breathing troubles are coming back for the nonce with each wave of fronts. Solution: sleep as much as I can, use saline spray, sit up and knit or cook. I probably don't sleep any less than normal, but I'm more conscious of being unable to sleep this time of year. At least I have things to do.