I'm not sure if it's a secret that I'm a former crocheter who still occasionally hooks on the side.
I learned to knit first, then discovered that the mad speed of crochet was a better fit for my pre-teen need for instant gratification. As a leftie, I had to learn first by watching my mother, who was very skilled in the area, then trying to mirror her movements. It wasn't so hard. The first big project I can remember was, at 13, when hospitalized for a freak infection - a set of crocheted flowers for the nurses' station . This was followed by a grannie square lap afghan that, only a year later, gave great comfort to my grandfather in his final days.
Through the years, I have always come back to crochet: an edging here, a small project there, even an afghan-selling spree in the late 1990s that resulted in a wrist injury. My poor extremities can't take the strain of crochet for long stretches, but it sure is fun to come back to once in awhile.
A few months ago, I was approached by a friend of a friend about the possiblity of making blankets for her daughters. She had seen a pattern on Pinterest and wondered if I could do it. I had her purchase the pattern for me, then mulled it over for a bit. Then I remembered my favourite mercerized cotton at Halcyon Yarns in Bath, Maine. Then I had a trip planned, and behold! I had yarn, I had pattern, and I had a plan.
And now, 379 flowers later, dear little Addy will have her blanket.
It's bright and cozy and HEAVY. And the next one, for her sister, has already been started.
Hook on, my pretties.