A day for that. And this.
I don't know who decides these things but it appears that today, June 10th, is Knit in Public Day. I took my knitting along to the farmers market. Actually I always have some knitting on me at things like markets and medical appointments. I am only newly able to knit again, somewhat clumsily, as I slowly rehabilitate the left hand.
The occupational therapist I am now seeing twice a week, has given me homework: demon spawn medical putty and a sheet full of exercises.
Three times a day I dutifully remove my cast and roll, pinch, spread and squash this really hard putty.
Medical putty work is exhausting. I have so little strength, mobility and range of motion in the left hand and wrist, but I persist. Though I can't do much about the strange deformity of this claw, I really want some of my opposable thumb function back. So that I can do things like knitting, which I didn't actually get to do much of at this morning's farmers market. It was busy.
I offered ten pounds of the best, plumpest, most unblemished apricots which I could salvage from the hailstorm and birds. I sold out within fifteen minutes of market opening. I could have sold 100lbs, had I the fruit.....world enough and time....Tomorrow morning I will be delivering apricots around town to those people standing in line today when I sold out. It was the best I could do.
Safe to say: the apricot tree, planted as a little $34 sapling from Animas Creek nursery in spring 2019, paid for itself today. Voracious birds willing, there are still pounds of fruit on the tree, the dehydrator is loaded and I have a pantry full chutney. I can't sell chutney at farmers market because...it's complicated. The short story: I don't have a home kitchen permit.
If laundromats are public spaces, then the socks which I am knitting had a second Knit in Public outing. There's a new laundromat in town where I've been washing my bedsheets and towels. They are a bit heavy for my little twin tub. Surprisingly the laundromat was really empty early on a Saturday evening. There was only one other person besides me doing laundry. All the banks of new, quiet, energy and water efficient machines were standing idle. Or watching me knit, all fumbling clumsiness what with the crippled claw and very little grasp and four needles to wrangle and all.
Knitting is way more satisfying than the sessions with demon spawn putty which, it must be acknowledged, allow the knitting to happen once again.
A few months ago I was told there was a high chance the thumb would not regain mobility without surgery. The amazing, kind and knowledgeable occupational therapist at my local rural community hospital, and persistence with the daily demon spawn putty exercises are proving the osteopath wrong. Perhaps. My next osteopathic assessment is on June 20th.