Ewe and I

Guest post by Liz Marino

As I was warming a barstool in my favorite pub, a ewe sheep came in, shook off the cold, and sat down. Now, maybe it was the lagers, or maybe it wasn’t, but I heard her order a pint.

“Let me buy that for you. I’m an avid knitter, and I’d love to ask you a few questions.”

She thought for a moment, smiled, and said, “Sure. It’s been a long day’s work.”

I looked up from the sweater I was knitting with a start. “Work? You stand around a field all day eating grass!”

“I turn grass into wool for a living. Can you do that?” She arched an eyebrow.

She had a point. I needed to mind my manners. “I’m terribly sorry. Let’s start again. I’m Liz. And you are?”

“Eve.”

“Cheers, Eve!” Her beer arrived, we clinked our glasses, and I shifted nervously on my stool.

“What’s that you’re doing there with that wool?” She looked at my knitting in my lap.

“I’m knitting a sweater for my husband. I’m just waiting for my girlfriends to come and join me, and I usually knit when I’m sitting.”

“I’ve always thought it odd people dressing up like sheep in sheep’s clothing. Why do you do it?”

I laughed. “I suppose from your perspective we look a bit silly. Trust me: wool is the rage in fashion. There’s nothing like the rich, soft look of a good wool sweater. Or socks!” I pulled up my trouser leg and showed her my striped stockings.

She took a deep swallow. “My flock and I always wonder. What is it in the wool that you fancy? It can’t be the smell, can it?” She took a sniff of her front leg and scowled.

I grinned. “No, it’s not the smell. Once the spinners and dyers have had their way with it, the smell goes away. No, it’s lots of things. Wool is very forgiving while you knit. Little tension imperfections are evened out by the yarn. It’s stretchy, it takes dye beautifully, and it’s wonderfully warm. It’s really quite fabulous.”

“Well, that last bit I know. Come spring, we can’t wait for shearing to get these heavy fleeces off. And I hear you about the colors. All of the flock looks just the same under our Coat Covers. It’s rubbish, really, matching the way we do. We look like a football team, dressed and ready, milling about waiting for a game to start! Of course, we pretty well match without the coats, too.”

“Coat Covers? Are those the things that look like blankets that I see sheep wearing in the fields?”

“One and the same. The shepherd puts them on us to keep our fleeces clean and soft. That way there is no hay or brambles in the fleece. We don’t get to choose our coat, and usually they’re all the same color. A bit of variety would be nice.” She burped loudly, and began chewing her cud. I grabbed a handful of snack mix from the bowl on the bar.

“I can imagine. We used to have to wear uniforms in school, and I hated it. Now in knitting, I have total control over what my garments look and feel like. I love to mix colors, throw in some cables, and make up a design for each project.”

“How do you make the yarn into a sweater? It can’t be easy. You’re making up the fabric one stitch at a time!” She leaned over and looked at the partially completed sweater in my lap skeptically. She took particular interest in a tangle of cables running up the front.

“It becomes easy. There are really only two stitches: knit and purl. It’s all in how you arrange and manipulate them. Most of us learn as children, though some take it up as adults. Eventually it becomes as easy as walking. A few shaping bits here and there take some attention, but mostly you get into a rhythm and go along. There are hundreds of thousands of patterns out there, so you really just follow directions. And it’s great to finish a project and go shopping for wool for the next one.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s obviously a skill.”

“Well, like anything, you get better if you work at it.” I blushed a little.

“ So how long will that sweater take you?”

“About 30 hours. I’m not a fast knitter. I knit while I chat on the phone, watch TV, or sit in a pub with a friend. The time pretty much flies by. I figure if I’m sitting anyway, I may as well make something beautiful, useful, and fashionable. It keeps my hands busy. And a week or two later, it’s finished.”

“And you’ll wear it?”

“No, I’m giving it to my husband as a gift. He’ll wear it. He won’t wear a synthetic sweater. Says they aren’t warm enough, or personal enough. Thinks the world is being taken over by machines. He likes the idea that the wool and the knitting were both alive in the making of a sweater.”

Eve sat back and took another long draught of her pint. “So that’s where all our wool goes. You make it into clothes for each other and give them as gifts.” She looked surprised, but simultaneously pleased.

“Well, not all of it.” I wondered what percentage of wool went to hand knits. “There’s quite a bit used to make fabrics in factories, and later that becomes clothes and blankets and such. Then there are toys, and mattresses, and carpeting…”

She stopped me with a hoof in the air. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to think my fleece is going to become yarn for someone like you to make a gift for a loved one. I make so much more than I need, and I’m glad it’s going to a good cause.” She looked serenely satisfied.

My friends came in just then, and I got up and hugged them. “I want you to meet my new friend, Eve.”

As I turned to introduce everyone, she was gone, her empty pint still on the bar. Maybe she was shy. Maybe she had an appointment. I wish we’d been able to chat longer. If you see her, buy her a pint. It’s hard work she does, turning grass into wool.

Liz Marino is an American knitwear designer, teacher, and blogger. Fond of Buddhist philosophy, she writes the Knitting With Karma blog, and publishes patterns in print, on Ravelry as LizMarino and on her blog. Find her blog at knittingwithkarma.blogspot.com.