Finding Canada

             My 4 am self when the books get written   I just pressed “send”. Finding Canada: Common Threads from a Cross-Country Knitting Tour is off to Audrey McClelland. She’s my brilliant editor who will scrutinize the book one more time. It’s my first travel...

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Seasonal Thoughts

With love and respect I wish you all peace and happiness during the winter holiday season. This time of year brings up all the best and sometimes not so best feelings, but it is also always an opportunity to sit back and reflect on the wonderful and crazy thing it is...

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Like father…

Obsession. Dedication. Pleasure. Work ethic. Passion. Drive. Inspiration. Curiosity. Greed. Motivation. Imagination. Chaos. What are your words? One of my father’s most unforgettable greetings was “Have you done anything useful today?” Don Snobelen was a manifestation...

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Knit like you are doing a puzzle

We are doing a puzzle and it’s not even Christmas. It’s the first time in my memory that I’ve had puzzle pieces strewn across the coffee table in August…and maybe September at the rate we are going. It’s a totem pole with complicated painted designs that all look the...

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Waulking Cape Breton

You know that feeling of learning about something that you should have/could have learned years ago but didn’t…something that affects your thinking in such a profound way that you feel like Saul on the road to Damascus. That’s what happened to me last week. I’m still...

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Knitting is a very big deal

Weekly highlights: 1. My publisher brings over ten boxes of my new book for kids about knitting that have just arrived from the printer; 2. Nine volunteers for the federal Green Party attend my knitting workshop so they can knit Green Toques as a campaign fundraiser;...

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Honour the Art

It’s 4:30 am. The highway noises are dim. Tex (husband) is sleeping silently in the other room. Piper (dog) is sleeping in her kennel. My housecoat is warm. My red toenails peer at me from my feet that rest on the coffee table. My knitting is in the basket by my side....

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Making stories

I probably first met Odelia when she was a baby. I lived three doors up the road from Kay and Henry, her grandparents who raised her. In those days everyone walked past our house to get to the grocery store in the village of Brentwood Bay. I would have looked in her...

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