That and my friend Josefin’s post on a blanket she made from squares she wove from her handspun yarn had me thinking about blankets and the significance of blankets in our lives. Blankets are pretty much the first garment we get. We are wrapped carefully and snugly to make us feel the safety we had inside our mothers, and so it’s not surprising that crafters often produce blankets as gifts for newborns. Knit, crochet, quilted or woven, they signal the importance we want to convey to the new mother about our concern and love for this new life. And it’s not just for newborns that we make and give blankets. I made a stack of fleece blankets not long ago to send to a group along the US/Mexico border for children awaiting decisions on immigration. A number of years ago my knitting group made knitted blankets for a local homeless shelter to give away to those in need. Blankets show we care. They give comfort. They say, “you are not alone.”

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Probably the most important of all of the blankets I’ve worked on is one that seems destined to remain unfinished. I pick it up now and then to add another square, but it contains so many stories and pieces from my knitting friends that I don’t think it ever will be complete.

This blanket is made from the leftover yarn from socks I’ve knitted, as well as yarn donated by many of my knitting friends. Looking at just this detail I remember yarn from Joan, Suzanne and Shelagh, just to name a few. Because these are from people I know, I feel as though I’ve knitted my friends into the blanket. And, I think the reason that I can never finish is that every time I bring it out to work on it, I spend all of my time looking at the squares and thinking of my friends. It’s not as much a blanket as it’s a personal history and a treasure.

Blankets — they keep us warm. They tell a brand new generation that we want to keep them safe. They tell a stranger that they are welcome. They tell someone in distress that we care. They let us build our little nests.