A million years ago, in a different lifetime, I lived in Armenia. Lived is a generous term; I survived there for a few months. That debacle is a story for another time.
One of my first visits to anyone in Armenia was to a lovely, tiny woman who owned a glass-walled fruit and vegetable stand. After arriving, it became dark, so I felt like I was on a stage in the lit, freezing cold hut. I mentioned to my companion that nature was calling - so she kindly expressed that to the shack owner in Armenian.
The two of them stood up, exited the shack, and the tiny woman placed a bucket full of sand and hay in the middle of the floor. They turned off the lights, stood outside, and turned their backs on me.
It dawned on me what was expected. I smiled, being a veteran of receiving myself in inopportune moments. After removing my many layers, I squatted over the bucket and took care of business, watched only by over-ripe persimmons and a small basket of knitting.
After the bucket had been removed, and we were sitting again, the tiny woman noticed how cold I was. She offered to knit me a thick, wool underskirt and a sweater. I acquiesced, and we made our way home through the ice and grime encrusted streets.
Over the next few weeks, I watched my projects take shape - a thick, soft wool of deep maroon was the chosen color. The skirt was finished first - a 1/2 inch thick, rib knit sweater for my legs. I wore that thing EVERY DAY.
The sweater came later. It was cabled, and had lovely buttons that matched the yarn. It also had a hood, that was slightly pointed.
The truth is, I never really used that sweater. I've kept it - safely, happily, but never really worn it. All the 1st world factory made piece of crap clothing has come in and out of my closet, sometimes barely making it one or two washes before needed to be retired.
Now that I'm once again, living in a cold country in a building without heat (or, in this case, without AFFORDABLE heat), I find myself wearing this sweater on a daily basis.
And OH MY GOSH IS IT WARM. And snuggly, and well made.
I'm finding myself reminiscing for a time when things were are hand built, handmade, and valued. Not these $5 leggings that last for 2 weeks before a seam splits or the fabric goes see-through - but real, hand woven fabric with girth and warmth and soul. I'm finding I'm wishing for a fireplace to keep me warm - something that can be fuelled by by own labour, each day, rather than bleeding at the end of each month for stuffy, soul-less warmth. I find I'm wishing for a garden, and a loom, and time to sit and knit on my porch. Time to understand the value of good, beautiful things, and time to create them.
I find I'm feeling nostalgic for a time that I haven't lived in; craving a lifestyle I've never known.
I guess for now, I've got the sweater, right?
This is great. And lovely.
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