Thursday, September 1, 2011


Colors make me feel happy inside. Unless you know the sensation, there seems no way I can explain it to you. It is just there.

Years ago we lived near a mill where yarn was manufactured. One of my greatest joys was being able to go to their factory outlet to buy yarn by the pound. Seeing those colors through the clear plastic bags brought my imagination to life as I envisioned a crocheted yellow cape for our daughter from one and a multi-striped full-sized afghan for my husband from another. When I came out of the store carrying the purchases, my husband’s imagination could see the possibility of the cape; however, of the afghan he wasn’t so sure. Once we got home and he saw me pulling the many pieces and lengths of colors from the bag, looking more like a mother hen plucking resistant worms from the ground than a sensible woman getting ready to crochet a large afghan, he really began to question the outcome.

As I sat on the couch, pulling free first a length of cardinal red yarn, then making a ball from a Kelly green one, I explained, “Colors make me happy.” John sat across the room from me in his recliner, shaking his head, wondering aloud how I was ever going to get that tangled mess undone, let alone make anything resembling an afghan from it. That kind of comment was exactly enough to make me more determined than ever to show him just what I could do!

After an evening of separating and balling yarns, leaving my inner eyelids resembling the colorful fabric of the costumes of clowns, I was sleepy enough to call it a day. Oh, but I was feeling happy because I knew I was ready to start the promised afghan after a restful night.

For a few weeks, once the work of the day was completed, I had many colorful evenings keeping my hands busy. My lap grew warmer with each passing night. Hubby sitting across the living room marveled as Johnny’s Cover of Many Colors continued to grow larger and the clear plastic bag of many colored yarn balls grew smaller.

Eventually the day came when I was able to present Mr. John, my husband, with the afghan that he has since used for about thirty years to “cover his button” (referring to his tummy) as he naps in his recliner.
We live a long way from the yarn factory now, but with yarn that lasts that long, I don’t have to crochet anymore. Now I can turn to computer-generated greeting cards and digital photos for my color fix.

Did I tell you colors make me happy?

© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 9-1-2011

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