Yarn Bombing

I am so freaking glad I had my camera for the walk to Brooklyn.

A few weeks ago, we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and turned a corner and found the most magnificent sight.

A yarn bombed bike.

I've been meaning to post these pics for a while, and was reminded of them this weekend when I ran into local artist Pam Kravitz, who is currently sporting the most adorably decorated crutches.

I learned about yarn bombing last winter. Local Twitterati @librariangrrl and I tweeted about it and even tossed out the idea of yarn bombing Over-the-Rhine.

Can you think of a more fantastic idea?

I first learned to knit and crochet during visits to my grandparents' house in Youngstown when I was eight or nine-years old. Nana didn't actually teach me. Nana was a lot of amazing things, but crafty wasn't one of them.

Alberta and Warren lived next to my grandparents. The four of them would sit beneath a big tree and smoke cigarettes, watching the neighborhood pass by. Alberta didn't have any daughters or granddaughters of her own, so she poured all of her domestic energy in me.

As clear as day, I remember the click-clacking of the aluminum needles and the subtle scratch of the Lion Brand yarn.

We'd perch on lawn chairs in their back, screened in porch, sipping limeade and knitting to soap operas.

Over the years, I've explored more complicated techniques and expensive yarns (I even have a signed copy of Stitch 'n Bitch), but I've yet to master the ability to make anything really magnificent.

I wish I posted these pics a week ago; International Yarn Bombing Day was just this past Saturday. How fantastic would it have been to organize a massive counterculture yarn bombing effort across the Queen City?

I'd take that any day over a bunch of ghost bikes.


Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.