Lessons in Life from a Yarn Bomb 

Last November I had a vision of creating a Community Craft display in Caversham Court Gardens which were looking forlorn, surrounded by ugly Heras fences where the historic perimeter wall has become dangerous. My vision was to make a panel of knitted and crocheted multicoloured flowers to cheer the place up and show that it is still loved. The result is beautiful, but it has ended up being more than I ever dreamed of. It has been an act of hope, a shared endeavour, and, for me, a lesson in diversity.

I recruited friends, neighbours, the local church craft group and the Library Knit and Stitch group which is a group of women from many different backgrounds. They all enjoyed finding a use for their left- over yarns and sharing in a project to occupy dark winter nights. I learned to knit myself and discovered the pleasure to be had in choosing colours that look harmonious together. I mused on how my Grandmother and women for generations before have found solace in creating things at home, how knitting is therapeutic whilst watching the news where the world about seems to be unravelling, or when family life is getting stressful.

The response to my request for knitted flowers was overwhelming. I discovered that if you have the courage to talk openly about one’s hopes and dreams, other people will respond in the same vein. Friends shared wool , patterns and skills.

Every flower is different and a unique work of art in itself. Some are simple, some elaborate, some realaistic, some stylised. I set out to arrange them in a harmonious drift of shades across the rainbow, with colours in one flower picking up on similar shades in its neighbour. I wanted to find the right home for each piece that had been made for me. However, I had been rather dismayed to be given a grey flower, not quite what I had envisaged, and an exquisite tiny pink one that I feared would get lost amongst the others.  But then when I set the pink one on top of the larger grey one and they each enhanced the other, the pink one was framed by the grey one and the grey one was lit up by the pink. Later, as donations of flowers continued to pour in and I started to run out of space, I set a little one in the centre of a bigger one, realising afterwards that one had been made by a Moslem lady and one by a Hindu. They looked just great together.

Sitting sewing these on for hours on end, I had the time to meditate on how these flowers are like us, each different, unique, and of value, each with our own special place in the world, enhanced by those nearby who have the potential to bring out something special in us.  

Together we have created something even better than the sum of its parts. A gorgeous, colourful and diverse array which hopefully will delight visitors to the garden during the summer to come. 

Hester Casey