“See? It pays to carry creative things with you!”

This post will be devoid of photos. I haven’t had time to take them or edit them or post them on flickr, despite having made a fair bit of progress toward finishing off a few WIPs lately.

As I settle into my almost-daily trip across the bay, I’m surprised and pleased at the amount of knitting I’m getting done. I shouldn’t be surprised as I probably spend somewhere around two hours in transit, but it comes in spurts with a number of stops and starts and changing trains… so it’s not really like the uninterrupted two hours I might spend knitting while watching a movie.

(I think the reason that I tend to craft to musicals and classics is because I don’t need to actively watch them… and I don’t get sucked in to them in the way I might to more modern movies. That and I’m watching many of them for the second or third or fifth time… but I digress)

I finished my first sock last week. I have only a single thumb to place and ends to weave in on the yellow mermaid mitts. The happy wanderer capelet is coming along nicely, if a bit slowly. At this rate, I might have a rather good list of FOs for the year, hopefully a few pair of fun socks among them. Which would totally justify collecting more sock yarn at a rapid rate.

(Side Note: at lunch with a friend today, we were playing a game on the table that encouraged us to ask each other to name three things of which we have an abundance. The first thing that came to mind, which I then blurted out was “Yarn! I have an abundance of yarn!” Which. I do. And there is still more that I want. Mostly sock yarn because there seem to be a practically infinite number of sock patterns that I hope to knit.)

Knitting on public transit has had its perks in other ways, too.

Monday, I was waiting for a bus and told by the driver that she was on break and had just pulled in at the end of the line so I’d have to wait for a few minutes. I mumbled that I was sorry, I didn’t know, and went to sit down at the bench and pulled out my knitting.

Moments later, the driver appears. “You just did the magic thing!” she says, as she let me onto the bus before taking her break. “See, it pays to do creative things in public!”

Her mood had lightened considerably. She began the next journey with a merry “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! Good morning, ladies, gentlemen and Knitters!” Even though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was smiling and perhaps even winking at me and my little WIP.

Tuesday morning, on a different bus, a woman who asked me if I was knitting a sock (I was). Conversation ensued. Eventually, after politely conducting the SKI (Standard Knitter’s Interview. That set of questions that all knitters seem to ask upon meeting a new knitter like how long have you been knitting, who taught you, what you’re working on today, and so on), she asked if I was a student. Somehow, acknowledging that I am indeed a student invited her to and tell me about knitters achieving the same sorts of alpha brain waves as buddhist monks practicing meditation. Apparently it’s not just in my head that knitting, more than many other crafts I’ve tried, is sort of meditative and relaxing… (something in the elegance of simple movements repeated and repeated and repeated again that somehow produce a larger, more cohesive and tangible whole). Of course, the meditative part tends to mean that I sometimes find myself very focused and really not wanting to engage with others. Knitting in public is apparently not a good way to achieve that sort of focus. She gave me a card for her fiber arts blog.

Sometimes I think I should make blog cards. Or flickr cards. Or something. But then I might have to be more careful about what sorts of things I put up for the internet to enjoy.

I’ve learned a lot on my commutes this week. And while the mesmerized onlookers tend to annoy me with their stares and questions, knitting in public is starting to feel like an ongoing stitch ‘n bitch with the world at large.

It does pay to carry creative things with me. On the days where nothing happens, they are their own reward. And sometimes, just a little more.