Grannies and Squares

I come from a long line, not just of crocheters, but of women who could and can work MIRRACLES with a crochet hook. These women, my Mom included, are Champion Crocheters, hooking everything from awful Red Heart slippers to breath-taking fine cotton lace. I could blather for hours about the feats I witnessed while playing near their armchairs.

As it turns out, up to now, I've barely crocheted more than a simple chain, or maybe a bit of trim. My fiber time has been focused on knitting, spinning, sewing, and printing cloth.

But now, my genetics have bitten me firmly on the A-Double-Snakes. I have a sudden, uncontrollable urge to make granny squares. This is not just a blip, a momentary whim. This feeling runs deep, calling on my womanhood, my ancestral lineage. This craving is seducing me to take my place in line with my Mother, my Grandmothers, and countless women before them.

I will, I must, rise up, hoist my hook, and crochet.