The First Day of Class at SAW
My night’s sleep before our first day of classes at SAW (Squam Art Workshops) was a bit fitful. Although the strong breeze off the lake made for much cooler temperatures at night than the day’s 90 degree weather, I still couldn’t relax. It wasn’t the small cabin room or the fact that I was sleeping next to a stranger. I had after all shared a meal, a few beers and some knitting time with her and I knew her daughter’s name. It wasn’t even that I missed my own comfy bed with the hubbie and the dog, which I did. Nope, the real reason was… it felt like Christmas Eve in June.
True, I was already at Squam, had been to the opening ceremony, had met my cabin mates and knew they were great. It was just that I was so very excited for my first day of class. Yes, growing up I was one of those kids that even when September came too soon, still enjoyed the first day of school. My morning and afternoon sessions at SAW were with Jessica Marquez in the Pictures and Stitches class. (a very sweet, artist person) The focus of the day was on being relaxed and creative. No work, no phones, no laundry, no obligations, no responsibilities except to let my creative juices flow.
So I had lain awake the night before thinking about how much fun it would be and wondered how often we actually set aside time in our busy lives to learn a new skill, especially if that skill is purely for pleasure? Why do the words “hobbies” and “crafts” take on the negative connotation that they aren’t worthwhile endeavors or that only people with gobs of free time do them? At what point did feeding one’s soul become an afterthought and deemed frivolous? I have a tendency to ask the big questions right as I am trying to fall asleep.
For me, attending SAW was all about meeting people with common interests, embarking on a great adventure up North and about taking time to feed my creative soul. As the years stack up, my need to take time to play, to create, and quite simply put, to pay attention to my very neglected Inner Child has become quite strong. I had already experienced a
unique kind of freedom at Squam in my short few hours there, freedom to wear my brightest colored clothes, freedom to be who I truly am (a little neurotic with a whole lot of joy mixed in) without feeling self-conscious and freedom to laugh loudly and occasionally snort at obscure knitting jokes.
I did finally fall asleep and awoke to a sunrise that glided across the lake through our open bedroom door and gently landed on my pillow. What a wonderfully calm way to greet the day. I knew it was going to be a good one.
Our class was held in a cabin/barn-like structure called Sugar House.
Jessica had told us to bring photocopies of pictures that we would embroider onto linen or muslin. I wanted to learn to embroider after seeing the intricate stitches on pillow cases and dresser linens made by my grandmother and great grandmother. Now, I was ecstatic to have a whole day to devote to learning. 
We spent the morning mastering several stitches including the running stitch, back stitch, French knots, satin stitch, chain stitch, and fishbone stitch. Unlike the buggy stifling heat from the day before, it was chilly in the cabin. We huddled around tables happily chatting and stitching away, everyone encouraging one another with their projects.
My cabin mate, Liz and I decided that although we liked embroidery, we didn’t like threading the needle. We broke 3 needle threaders in the process and eventually just held a bit of wire to pull the thread through the eye hole. Every time we successfully changed threads, we rejoiced. It was the pure, simple pleasure of learning a new skill.
To get the image on the muslin, we first traced our picture onto tracing paper. Then, we placed carbon paper between the muslin and the tracing paper and retraced the image again. The result was a nice outline to follow on the muslin. Next, we looked at each section of the image to decide what type of stitch would best outline or fill in that section to add texture and bring life to the picture.
I brought a picture I had snapped of two little grape tomatoes with yellow blossoms, a simple outline with some fun chicken wire in the background I hope to eventually appliqué onto a reusable veggie bag for the market. Although I didn’t finish my piece that day, I did learn enough to finish it on my own at home.
The fun of the day continued into the evening with a talk by the Yarn Harlot in the Playhouse under twinkling lights. She stood in front of the fire amusing us with a discussion about knitting, of course. In particular, it’s mental, physical and spiritual benefits, its ability to bring people together and also its ability to make people ask stupid questions.
That’s Elizabeth MacCrellish, head Squammie, on the left introducing the Yarn Harlot, Stephanie Pearl McPhee on the right.
Stupid questions like “Did they really let you bring those knitting needles on the plane?” asked of a person sitting on a plane, quite obviously knitting. As the Harlot says, responses may vary depending on the knitter and the knitter’s mood from “no, I’m not really holding needles you are just imagining it” to “ I bribed the scanner person, tunneled under the runway, came up by the plane and snuck on it and then slept with the pilot when he discovered me holding knitting needles.”
Harlot’s talk was timely because just the night before I had thought about how one of the benefits of attending SAW and being surrounded by like-minded people is that you can focus on something fun and soulful without having to make excuses for wanting to do it or for taking time to do it .
It is a unique talent to be able to answer such questions as “how do you find the time to knit, garden or craft? ” with intelligence and composure. Drawing on my SAW experiences and the Harlot’s talk, I now hope to reply in an even tone “your day also has 24 hours in it, as does mine. I just choose to spend my time differently because no matter how much you may complain about having to go to work, stand in line at the dentist’s office, run carpool or put dinner on the table, I too have things that are just as important and just as time consuming. The difference is that I have chosen to add my inner child, my soul, my creative spirit to my list of priorities and I shouldn’t have to apologize for it.” Thank goodness, I have a supportive hubby who feels the same way.
All children, even inner children, deserve creative time to grow their spirits.
Although by social standards I am considered “middle-aged”, I feel far from wise. There are still many things I just plain don’t understand and will likely never understand -like being unkind just for the sake of being unkind. Actually, I hope I never understand this. I’m not a Pollyanna and really do have a firm grip on reality and understand that being kind to most people requires more effort on some days than others and that some people require more of my patience than others. I’m not even saying that I am never unkind, just never intentionally at least. If I am, it’s more a result of stupidity or insensitivity on my part than outright cruelty. Some people though, actually seem to relish being unkind. This – I just don’t understand.
The kind of day that you wish would last forever. Your skin smells of sunshine and lotion.
Dreaming of Spring flowers, green grass and warm beaches.
I call it my Back Field Shawl, because as you will noticed, it is the spitting image of …you guessed it, my unmowed wild and wooly, back field.
Day Three at 
