Last week I was complaining mightily that the task of sewing together the 48 squares of Lucia's afghan--not to mention sewing in the 5 million stray yarn ends on the wrong side--made the labor of Sisyphus look like cleaning out a garage. I've been working on this afghan off and on for almost two years. I started it during a bout of pneumonia in the winter of 2010. At the time, the idea of knitting up 48 different afghan squares seemed pretty do-able, and I enjoyed launching into it.
After all these months, the long haul toward completion seemed endless. The task of sewing the squares together was mind-bogglingly boring and time-consuming, and sewing in all the loose ends on the underside was hellish.
Finally, last weekend, when the family had gathered to celebrate Julia's birthday and that of our good friend and unofficially adopted daughter Emma, I was able to present Lucia with the finished afghan. And look how happy she is with it! And see how nicely it all came together!
As if the act of knitting itself weren't its own reward--the yarn, silky or woolly, slipping through the fingers, the needles in ballet with each other--the thrill of completing a project like this just expands my happiness at having learned to knit. So does the act of having seen this one through its Sisyphean minutiae .
P.S. So, why are afghans called afghans, anyway?