Crochet is my goddess, my muse, my life. I owe a debt of gratitude to crochet so deeply that I know I will be loving crochet for the rest of my life.

And if you think that’s dramatic, get your popcorn ready and strap in.

This is my crochet story, how in the most difficult time in my family’s life (honestly, the worldwide pandemic has nothing on this!) I found respite and relief through yarn and hook, and how crochet continues to give me life, through illness and health, rain and sun, every single day.

My crochet story starts ordinary enough.

Like many, I was first taught to crochet by my grandmother when I was young. I specifically remember being absolutely fascinated by the single hook and yarn, and placing my hands over hers as we worked crochet magic together.

Again like many, my mother-in-law taught me knitting when I was pregnant with my son. I liked knitting, but I didn’t love it, and soon put down my needles before the baby blanket was finished.