Oth Crochet Nook Novels & Stories

Her gaze seems trapped in the memory somehow and I can only imagine my mother climbing a tree to steal some apples. I grin, holding on to the warmth of the memory, even if it's not mine. "I never learned to knit." I note not wanting to leave just yet. "Well, sit down then. It's good for the hands, keeps the mind sharp." Doris pats the chair beside her, and I lower myself, accepting the needles she offers. Hours pass, though I only manage to produce a crooked doll-sized scarf after unravelling it more times than I can count. My stomach aches from laughter, the stories of my parents painting vivid pictures in my mind.

I held the door open for Lily to get past. Time to go see mum. * * * She was sitting up in bed and working on a crochet piece. There was a pile of small squares beside her. Her face lit when she saw us and she pushed it to the side. As she spoke, I took inventory. She sounded brighter today. I eyed the crochet hook, remembering the last incident with it. Then my eyes drew together in confusion while I studied the hook. While we hugged I touched it. Plastic. Nice. After she had fussed over us. Lily climbed the bed while I took the recliner. She reached into her bag and pulled out at least twelve tabloids.

There are slots filled with every size needle and crochet hook you could want, as well as a pouch with a thimble, scissors, and a random assortment of safety pins, straight pins, buttons, and a few threaders for good measure. I take out a needle for a closer look. It’s hand carved, either rosewood or maple, with little acorns carved into the tops. They’re not perfect, either, but they’ll work fine. “Who carved the needles?” I ask. “I did.” Justus’s voice has gone downright gruff. He’s staring intently into the hatbox, and doesn’t even look up when I ask, “What about the case?” “Max made the leather. I did the cutting and sewing.”

“Tell her I said hello — and that I’m still waiting for her secret to that perfect herbal tea.” I smiled and left the room, still hearing the sound of the sewing machine as I made my way down the hall. When I reached Auntie Eleanor’s room, the morning light poured through the curtains. She was sitting by the window with a ball of yarn in her lap, her crochet hook moving with slow precision. “Good morning,” I said softly. She looked up, her eyes bright. “Ah, just in time. Look what I made for you.” She held up a small crocheted piece — soft yarn in my favorite shade of moss green.

The chambers felt empty without him. I asked Livia for yarn and hooks — something to do with my hands. She brought soft black wool, needles, patterns. I started crocheting — secret, shy — a sweater for him. Oversized, warm, with subtle lunar patterns in silver thread. My first gift. Something made by my hands, for the male who deserved everything. Hours passed in quiet stitches. A knock. “Lady Maureen,” Livia said. “Lady Nyxara requests to see you.” I set the half-finished sweater aside, heart fluttering.

"Why are you asking? Do you want something to eat? It's afternoon now." I just smiled and drink another glass of milk, "I'll wait for Linux. My baby likes the pastries so much so I like it either." It nodded at me. "Would you like me to call him? I mean deliver some pastries to us?" he asked but I shook his head. I have something to do eh. When I remembered what I wanted to do. "Can you just ask him to buy me Crochet? A green brown, yellow and black, with complete tools?" I asked, so he raised his gaze to me.

She knew Seraphina could crotchet anything, but she never saw her works beyond black and white. Seraphina crocheted blue and pink? Whoever her helper is, she can't wait to meet her. Though, that silly girl refused to tell her the name. She had decided to make them wear the crotchets to the club since it's slutty enough for clubbing. She posted the pictures on her I* with the caption; Crotchet made by my sister from another mother, then she tagged Seraphina's account. Seraphina finally emerged from the mansion, wearing her own crotchet too—the bralette and bum shorts.

It's not easy to start over but Romana has no other option but to face tomorrow alone. Ever since Evo left, she had a hard time. Although she had many attendants to serve her, it still felt different to have a shoulder that you could lean on during hard times. She misses his care. To make an escape, she made an effort to crochet a hat, a mitten for her baby's hands, and socks using red and pink cotton yarn. She persistently watched videos on the internet to learn how to do it.

He threw his head back for a moment before slamming his hands onto the desk. “Cosy,” Knox repeated, his parrot green eyes gleaming. "A knitted brick-red jersey. It's a tactile payoff! The customer sees the dramatic plaid, the moody textures, an' then they see that—that warm, invitin' weight o' the knit." He grabbed a piece of scrap fabric– a chunky wool swatch he had been using as a coaster– and held it up against the mulberry and plaid sketch. "It works perfectly. The brick red gives that final touch o' warmth tae pull the whole story thegither. It keeps the collection fae becomin' too cauld, too distant." He was already scribbling notes furiously now, his handwriting a jagged scrawl of ide

"Are you ready for dinner? We've eaten but could join you if you want our company." Finishing speaking, Madre handed me a project bag and I opened it, removing some of the contents. She had taught me to knit and crochet a few months ago and I was knitting a blanket for Regal. "Nah, you don't have to appease me. I'm gonna have a light snack and then, could you drop Regal off to my room? I'd like to sleep with him tonight." My ask wasn't unrealistic and my decline on their invite was noted. Quickly counting rows and weaving the yarn through my fingers, I was already knitting and purling bringing out the moss stitch pattern.