One rainy New Jersey evening, two knitters blocked a wedding shawl.
They started with a soak a little Eucalan and warm water.
The shawl did not disintegrate in water. (I always fear this.)
We put down Juno’s interlocking foam floor tiles (they are freaking brilliant) and ran blocking wires through the top edge. This was a reasonable expenditure of human time. Then we began to pin.
This was an unreasonable expenditure of human time. It took two quick pinners one and a half hours of total pinning immersion.
We pinned out the centre line, we pinned out the large points, and then, oh then my gentle knitters, then…
After a while, time suspended. Pins were placed. Pins were replaced. Pins were adjusted. Arses cramped. Thighs seized, Spasms set in places where we didn’t know we had places. It became almost meditative, like entering a trance to walk on coals.
Each loop of the crochet cast off was pinned out. Every. Single. One. By the end we were blurry and folded, more or less permanently into this position. (If you see us at Rhinebeck, know that it is a blocking injury that has reduced us to our crone-like posture. Waving some yarn above head level may help to unkink us.)
Each pin in place…we spritzed it with water. (It has dried a little bit much while we pinned.)
Imagine the pins. Boggle.
Pain for Beauty. The shawl, in all it’s glory is being has been transported to Rhinebeck (we draped it over our luggage in the back of the Jeep so it didn’t lose it’s block)
…where I shall take it’s portrait and wear it the whole day. I’ve very proud. It might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever made.