Recently, I attended a meeting of the "Knitting Circle," a group of women who knit, weave, or spin, at the home of Larry and Carol Ann Parker.
We gathered in a small building set aside from the main house called the "Wool shed." Inside, the chairs were arranged in an L-shape and the walls were lined with wooden hat molds, large jars of buttons, brim molds, hat boxes, spools of thread, as well as numerous skeins and balls of yarn. A few hat racks covered with felt hats and scarves sat about, and the pleasant hum of several lively ongoing conversations permeated.
One of the first and one of the most outspoken ladies I met was DJ Falconer, who not only knits, but also spins, weaves tapestries, crochets lace, and does quilting. She was very engaging and quite energetic, speaking initially with me of politics.
DJ finds a "creative outlet" in knitting, and says her involvement with the "Lost Arts" is very "historical." (Many members attend events throughout the year wearing period-style clothing and doing demonstrations for the public, school children, etc. to promote the "Lost Arts.") She has also benefited in meeting new people and making new friends. Her advice to anyone interested in the "Lost Arts" is to: "just get started, get support, and find groups."
Dotty (the newest member) and I were then invited to take a tour of "the bowling ball field." We joined Larry outside at a riding lawnmower with a cart that had two lawn chairs attached. Looking at each other, we chuckled and climbed aboard.
As we entered the field, we began to see bowling balls of all types and colors, some lying on the grass, some mounted on poles, as well as an occasional bowling pin or two. Larry stopped in the middle of the field, took pictures, and began the story.
He had originally put some bowling balls in "nests" he made and told his grandchildren that they were bird eggs. They eventually realized that they were just bowling balls, but by then the damage was done. People had begun bringing them bowling balls, and Larry put them in the field—on tent poles, old fencing, and old baby crib slats.
Once, a woman who bought an old bowling alley brought him a pickup truck full of bowling balls. Larry estimates his field to contain nearly 300 bowling balls. A local newspaper did a story on it, and planes are often seen to be flying over in an attempt to figure out just what is in that field!
Our tour continued, and Larry again stopped and began to tell us a story about a small, nearly dried-up pond, and a neighbor with a lotus plant. After planting, it spread and eventually the pond became nothing but a small depression in the ground completely covered by lotus plants in various stages of blooming!
Circumnavigating a small fishing pond, I wondered aloud to Dotty, "Are people who are involved with creative, active hobbies (as opposed to passive hobbies) more interesting because of that involvement, or are they involved in those hobbies because they are inherently more interesting to begin with?"
We finished our tour, passing a fishing shed with a sign that read, "Waldo's Pond," just in time for lunch. Everyone had brought a dish to share—a custom of the group—and we spent about an hour or so enjoying a variety of foods and desserts, as well as some lively conversation.
I confess that although I didn't have any specific assumptions before meeting these women, I was pleasantly surprised by how interesting and entertaining they all were. Vonda Sager, an accomplished weaver, spinner, and knitter, confided in me that she had originally had a somewhat derogatory view as well, and had consequently avoided getting involved in a group for many years. So, we shared our pleasure in discovering that we had been wrong in our assumptions; I was beginning to realize that these ladies were anything but ordinary.
After lunch, it was back to the "Shed" to do more knitting—and visiting, which I found to be of primary importance to the group. I sat next to Jeanette Campbell, from Scotland, and watched her knit some beautiful and intricate socks. Carol Ann talked a bit about felt-making and hat-making with Jette (pronounce Yetta) Cochran, who seemed quite interested in learning that craft.
We left mid-afternoon, and after thanking everyone for all of their help, I assured them that I would make the best of their time by sharing with others what they had been so gracious and willing to share with me. Far from the old-fashioned, grim-faced dowagers one might imagine, I found the most interesting group of women that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Vital and brimming with creativity—in their craft as well as their lives—the women of the "Knitting Circle" have given me a view of "Lost Arts" that convinces me that they are not truly lost at all.