On a cold spring morning, not too long ago, I dug an old pair of socks from the back of my drawer, admiring the purple, black and olive-green stripes I had knitted. Though oversized and lumpy at the heel, they felt warm and cozy as I put them on. Later in the day, I noticed holes in the toes and went upstairs to toss the socks onto the floor of my closet.
Later that week, with time on my hands and a need to feel productive, I sat on the bed, socks in hand, debating my choices. My husband watched, amused. How long have you had them? Throw them away.
But how could I toss them aside, after struggling so hard in sock-knitting class, wielding four double-pointed needles in my two hands until I finally finished these trophies?
My mother taught me to knit, but never socks. She did not have the patience. She was always in motion: cleaning, cooking, sewing. Sometimes she’d sit down to read a McCall’s or Good Housekeeping magazine. I see myself in her, or is it her in me? Reading, knitting, and sewing can easily become just one more thing to accomplish.
I can do this, I thought, holding my holey socks in my hands, I can do this one little thing. I can mend the socks. I turned the first one inside out, tucked my fist into the toe – and remembered I still have my mother’s wooden darning egg. I took it down from a shelf and turned my sock over it. With quick small stitches, the way she taught me, I closed the hole, ending with a knot, a snip of the thread – and a deep connection to another time.
How is it that such a small, unnecessary task satisfies my soul? I wonder what else I can mend.
How about you? Have you resurrected a craft during this strange housebound time? Comment here and I’ll put your name in the hat for my copy of Big Stone Gap by Adriana Trigiani, a novel of a small town pharmacist on the brink of self-discovery.
The winner of last month’s drawing is Jeanne Kane. She wins a copy of Michael Ondaatje’s Warlight. Congratulations and thanks for commenting on my blog.
Linda C. Wisniewski 
10 responses to “The Darning Egg”
Your wooden darning egg reminds me of one I have tucked away, among my grandmother’s cast offs. I guess I’ll hang on to it, although I doubt I will try to fix a pair of socks! I would, however, if I had knitted myself a pair as you had years ago! I have, however, put my grandmother’s sewing machine to good use during this pandemic. It started with bags of all sizes, mostly make up kits, gift bags, etc. and I have moved on to a couple of back packs. I did try my hand at facial masks, but after about thirty of them, I’m on to bags again! Anything to keep the hands busy!
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Nice, Linda! Good to know about your grandma’s sewing machine! I bet she would be pleased to know you’re putting it to good use.
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My mom had a darning egg. I haven’t thought much of it over the years except when a hole appears in a favorite sock. I guess it wouldn’t be a favorite if it didn’t need a mend. My Mother grew up in England and never learned to drive after arriving in the States. She was content at home and was a wonderful seamstress, and knitter who was content to make the most of being home bound her entire life. She went back to work after her children left the house and my Dad gone but still darned and knitted religiously. I find I am very content at home also. I enjoy travelling now in retirement and visiting children and grandchildren all over the country but still have no trouble finding things to occupy my time. Darning was a fond memory of my Mom and I wish I knew what happened to her darning egg.
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Hi, Krys, it seems we are thinking of our mothers and grandmothers these days, and how they made the most of what we might consider limits. Lots to do, even within our own homes. Thanks for stopping by!
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What a coincidence that you wrote about your mom’s darning egg! My daughter, Suzanne, called me a few weeks ago during the height of this pandemic and as she was cleaning out some closets came upon her daughter, Mary’s, wool hat they had purchased last year when they were in Scotland. Mary loved this hat, it is grey knit and has 2 big fur pom-poms on the top. She looks adorable in it and it is her favorite hat!
Anyway, the top had become unraveled leaving a gaping hole and Suz asked if I would know how to fix it. I told her to drop it off and I would give it a try. My mom knitted a lot but mostly little baby sweaters, hats and booties. I thought if I could somehow “knit” the whole back together, it might work.
So I went to the 3rd floor closet where I still have many of my mom’s keepsakes and found a box of knitting needles, patterns & yarn. I have not looked in this box for a long time. (my mom will be gone 11 years next month). So I went on a discovery journey through this box and found a hook, almost like a huge safety pin in with all the knitting needles. I simply took the hook and went through the loops that were loose, gathered them together and tied it off with a small piece of yarn! It worked and looks great!
I know what you mean by satisfying your soul with a simple task! And I feel my mom had a hand in the process!
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I love this story, Debbie! So glad you were able to repair the hat. I know how Mary felt. I have a favorite beret with a hole in it. Hmmm. 😉 Thank you for sharing here.
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During my shelter in place, I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’ve been mastering a craft like you did Linda with your knitting skills. But, I have been finding I’m doing things that I’ve always wanted to get to, like finally painting the baseboard heater cover that’s bothered me since we moved into the house, 16 years ago, or doing things I’ve never done before, like cutting my teenagers and my husband’s hair, or my most challenging task: meal and menu planning.
My cooking and meal prep prior to Covid, was so much easier. I would prepare a quick breakfast for my kids before they dashed off to catch the school bus, i.e. frozen waffles, toast, bacon (if I remembered to pre-heat the oven in time) and eggs. Most mornings, my husband has cereal for breakfast but, whenever he saw me cooking eggs, he’d chirp in that he’d like an egg too. My sons purchased their lunch at school and my husband would forage through our fridge eating any combination of leftovers he could find. It was always my job to make dinner, every night. Night after night. I recall when I was a child, sometimes when I’d ask my mother what was for dinner, she would tease me and say “Dinner? You ate yesterday!” That response didn’t sit too well with my crew. On weekends, I’d get a break from cooking and we’d either dine out or get takeout. But, now, with self-quarantine and social distancing in place the responsibility for all of my family members food consumption, including beverages is all on my plate.
Pre-pandemic, I would wake in a good mood, get ready to face my day, think about my to do list and inevitably the question du jour would pop into my head: “what am I doing to make for dinner tonight?” I would procrastinate the dreaded task for as long as I could. As the day progressed, I’d look at the clock and think, it’s only 4:00 p.m., I have plenty of time. Then at 6:00 p.m. I’d rationalize that I still had at least another hour to figure it out. I might check the pantry or fridge hoping to find inspiration or a miraculously pre-made delicious entree with accompanying sides left by my Fairy Godmother, but that wish never came true. By 7:00 – 7:30 pm, urgency would set in and I knew I either had to start cooking something now or call for takeout. Pasta is my go-to safety net for a quick meal. I could eat pasta several times a week, and I’m a veg head, so I could just add a side salad or sauté some zucchini and broccoli, throw in some feta cheese and kalamata olives, and I’m good. My youngest son still prefers his pasta with butter. Easy peasy. But, without a “meat” included in the meal, just pasta doesn’t satisfy my husband and growing seventeen-year-old son’s appetite.
I don’t consider myself a cook, I usually need a recipe or a tried and true approach to follow. Most nights, I’d be fine with a bowl of cereal or a PB&J for dinner leaving me with time for more interesting activities. I’ve always leaned towards the “I eat to live, not live to eat” way of thinking. My sister on the other hand, considers it a vacation to be in the kitchen cooking or baking for her family, her co-workers or a friend in need. She’ll spend hours indoors on a beautiful summer day mastering the perfect pie crust (and she despises pie) so my family is the happy recipient of her crust filled creations.
With the onset of self-quarantine and social distancing, and with restaurants closed or limited to curb side pickup, (with the exception of a takeout pizza or two) I’ve learned how to food shop with an intentional list, how to plan meals and how to actually, cook. I go to the supermarket about every two weeks and then stock my freezer with fish, poultry, and meats. In the quiet mornings while sipping a cup of tea, I’ll flip through recipe books, and make a list of the foods I’ve purchased in groups of grains, veggies, meats. I’ll coordinate menus, spacing out the number of times during the week, I’ll use ground beef, for tacos, meatballs, or hamburgers, and I’ll alternate between pasta, chicken, fish or steak, to add variety to our meals. Using a pencil, a ruler and a piece of loose leaf paper, I draw up and fill out a weekly meal plan for every breakfast, lunch and dinner making notes in the margins 2 days in advance to remind myself to defrost a particular item. I tape the meal plan to the fridge and when it’s time to cook, I simply follow the plan. Of course, I leave room for flexibility, like when I notice a fresh vegetable is about to turn, or when weather isn’t ideal for grilling, or when our taste buds crave something else.
With the help of YouTube and the Internet, I’ve also learned how to cook meat on the grill and in the oven by relying on a meat thermometer. Gone are the days of me butchering the steak or chicken with a knife to peek inside it’s flesh to test if it’s done. I’ve learned to identify different cuts of meats such as: tenderloin, fillet, strip or london broil. Once I even made a beer battered fried fish and chips dish that received pub worthy reviews from my family. I certainly wouldn’t say I’ve mastered cooking, but my prep and technique has improved. For the first time, since ever, I don’t panic when dinner time rolls around. Sure, it takes a little extra time to meal plan, but I find it’s worth it. Now, when I wake in the mornings in a good mood, thinking about my to do list, I look at my already prepared meal plan, and I’m ready to face my day.
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Wow, Karen, you have mastered the art of quarantine cooking! Good for you and your well-written comment. Now I have a craving for fish and chips!
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My mother taught me to sew, darn, crochet, do needlework, embroidery. All the gentle arts. The art of making a home. I’d love to have a darning egg (maybe I’ll find one, someday). My mom always used a small orange. She’d “save” all her darning in a basket, and when she had several pieces, she’d turn on her soaps, get an orange, and begin. It didn’t take her long, as she worked deftly, at whatever she had on the go. That memory sticks in my mind–her patiently darning…and the smell of oranges. As it goes, I use an orange, too. Maybe my granddaughter will have the same memory of me, someday.
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Lovely! The smell of oranges, the soaps, her darning basket…I do hope your granddaughter has these memories, too. Thanks for stopping by!
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