For if knitters didn't teach others to knit, where would we be? That's right - not knitting. And that would be bad.
To all the lovely men and women who reach out and teach even just one person how to knit and purl with two sticks and some string, I thank you.
I also, and especially, give thanks to the person who taught me to knit. It was in the spring of 2006, at the Moss Street Market, here in Victoria. I knit very tightly in the beginning (I hear it's common), and knit through the back loop instead of the front, and couldn't get the hang of the knitted cast-on no matter how much I tried. But I persevered and she along with me, helping me in my moments of panic at dropped stitches, showing me that I had knit back on myself, and fixing my mistakes before I learned how to "read" the stitches for myself. We sat that long, hot summer, on the couch, in sarongs, with the air conditioner blasting, and knit.
In all our years together, with in's and out's, beginnings and endings, it is the knitting that has brought us finally back to this comfortable, easy, casual "just being" relationship. Our history is just that - history. Now we have loops of cashmere and merino to lead us forward.
If it hadn't been for this lady of Ucluelet teaching me to knit, I likely wouldn't have found Etsy.com (where many indie dyers sell their wares, as I did), wouldn't have discovered a passion for hand-dyeing yarn and spinning fibre, wouldn't have wanted to find a local knitting group, wouldn't have discovered the wonder that is Ravelry.com, wouldn't have a small business, or lovely hand-knit items for myself and my loved ones, wouldn't have wandered into the world of spinning wheels and fibre and looms and weaving...
So for this dear lady, and her crafty fingers, I am eternally grateful. Thank you.