knitting and crochet
October 11, 2010 § 3 Comments
The dog is some way behind the mover who is listening to her footfall and the brush of her jacket sleeves against the jacket body. Some crows fly across her path like morse code. She hears the dog running up from behind and overtaking her, stopping suddenly, arrested by a scent in the grass which is beyond the sensual range of the mover, whose pace and rhythm remains unchanged: the swish of sleeves and the thud of boots unrelenting. The mover is aware that her journey has progressed steadily, one step at a time, until she swung about, and is now progressing steadily, one step at a time, back again. One row knit. One row pearl. The dog’s journey has had all the looping ins-and-outs of a band of treble crochet and the mover recalls that toddlers and children navigate their journeys this way and wonders wistfully when she lost the art of crochet and became a knitter.