I love creating. I love the process of making something with my hands, of working at it and refining it and unpicking it and putting it back together.
I think my Dad understands that in me. That sometimes there doesn't have to be a use or a point but that just making is important.
I am thankful that he understands that.
I mentioned a while back that I got a loom for Christmas.
After a few goes at making some scarfs from some scrap wool I looked up a pattern and ordered some wool for the purpose of making a particular design.
Up to that point weaving had gone well, fiddly but no major catastrophes.
As soon as I started work on this project everything went wrong. I started by warping with the wrong colour, then I miscounted and then just as I was getting into my stride, I realised that the whole tension was off.
It was my Dad's day off work and carrying my loom into his study I looked at him and asked for help.
Thankfully he has more patience than me. Together we spent the afternoon trying to work out what had gone wrong.
We looked online, we fiddled with the yarn, we undid and unpicked. I had two weeks experience with weaving and we were fairly baffled.
At one point, in the jumble of untying many knots of wool he turned to me and said "I've always hated little bits of string!"
By the end of the day we had worked out what had gone wrong but were no closer repairing the damage or getting the project back to a workable state. I knew my Dad was still thinking of it though, trying to find a solution for this project so I could keep working on it.
After a think in the bath he came downstairs that evening with a note of triumph in his voice. He pulled out some string and the clamps and together we rigged up a new system with correct tension.
I am thankful that my Dad has more perseverance than I do, that he had the patience to sit and think logically about a project rather than just give up on it. He understood that it wasn't essential for me to finish this project but that it would be oh so good for my heart to sit and create it.
I said on instagram that night that one of the joys of handmade is that there are always imperfections and there are always stories. I am glad my Dad was part of the story on this one.
What have you created recently that has a bit of a story?