It is 7 a.m. and I am waiting for my son-in-law and my three grandchildren (2.5 year old twins and a very energetic 4 year old big brother) to make their appearance. Living on a farm we get up early and start work right away. This morning I was at it at 5. By 6 when I said good-bye to my daughter on her way to work in the city, I had unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher; folded last night's laundry; put in the first wash load of the day; and made a jello salad for dessert this evening. I sweep and mop the kitchen floor while the water for my coffee heats on the stove.
While my coffee cools to a reasonable temperature I gather my needles, yarn and pattern book. I have about 30 to 45 minutes to myself. I can work out a complicated cable pattern or study the color chart for Russian mittens without the distraction of active toddlers and a pre-schooler. I meditate on the day to come and set the agenda for the time the four of us will be together. Of course the agenda gets scrapped when a new and exciting event occurs (like the spider that lives in the window frame making an unexpected cameo appearance on the kitchen window ledge or the unexpected visit by a lost mustang along the fence line at the edge of the cow pasture). I cast on the number of stitches needed to make the sock I am working on and focus intently on the pattern I have decided to master. The challenge of the new work is calming even when it is a little frustrating. I usually get an inch or an inch and a half done before the smiling faces of the twins bid me good morning. It is sacred time.
The wins come tumbling down the stairs with my son-in-law. I put aside the knitting. My focus turns to the small wonders so happy to be alive. My son-in-law starts his chores, either at my house or his, after a quick cup of coffee. I can always sit and knit when they go to bed in the evening I tell myself, knowing that is if I don't fall asleep almost as soon as they do.