I don’t know why it never occurred to me that I wasn’t the only person in the world who was squirreling away Rowan Donegal Lambswool. It just seemed like a weird thing to be doing. I was all settled into a nice, long process of collecting yarn for my Donegal sweater.
So when I got an email yesterday from Mary o’ Texas, announcing that she had almost all the yarn I was missing for the Donegal sweater project–and she was willing to part with it–I just sat there for a while, contemplating the whole situation. I mean, really. How kind is that? Do other communities of obsessive hobbyists behave this way? Do people who go bass fishing send each other lures? What about the Civil War re-enactors? Do they swap rifle cartridges in a pinch? My guess is that they are trading gear just like we are–but they could not be MORE generous than knitters.
I have been amazed at the kindness of knitters. We’ve seen it in many places, in many ways. When someone like Mary ups and offers to part with yarn in such an effortless and generous way, I am reminded that our obsession-inducing hobby has another, very pleasantly human side: it’s more fun to do it in the company other like-minded people. Even if the hanging out tends to take place in a virtual way.
I can’t wait to return to this sweater, which at this point will include yarns from Susette of Ithaca, Mary of Vancouver, Cecelia of New York, Belinda of London, and now Mary o’ Texas. How cool is that?
P.S. Tracy in Qatar (one of the MOST generous of generous knitters ever in the universe, knitting for children in very faraway places) raised the question of the guinea pig and beta fish which I offered to trade for yarn. I want to make it clear that no rodents nor sea creatures will be shipped to Texas in return for this yarn. No matter how I begged, she wouldn’t take ’em.