An Autumn Story (A Granny Square Post)

 Nowadays, with all the roaring of traffic and blaring out of music and televisions, it’s more difficult to hear it. But still, if you listen carefully, throughout the Autumn months, you can hear a quiet contented purring sound. That is the clicking of needles and whirring of sewing machines as all the Grannies take up their needles and pins and set to work making toys and scarves and mittens and socks and jumpers and cardigans, and who knows what else, to send off to Father Christmas in time for his midnight stocking-filling ride on December 24th.

Granny Square, of course, is no exception. And that is just what she was doing when Knit and Purl arrived.
“Why don’t you go out and play?” asked Granny Square. “You never know how long the fine weather is going to last for at this time of year.”

“I was hoping it would last until Old Wool comes back,” said Purl. “He’s been visiting his relations over the hills and far away all Summer and we haven’t been to the sea side at all this year…”
“Oh dear! So we haven’t,” said Granny Square. “I shouldn’t think he will be too much longer – but it will probably be too cold for swimming.”

“Can’t you knit us a sea then?” asked Knit. “It would be a shame to have a year with no sea at all.”
Granny Square pondered for a moment. Go to the wood shed and fetch me as much sea-coloured wool as you can find,” she said, “and I shall crochet the sea for you. That will be quicker.”

So all morning, Knit and Purl carried great balls of sea coloured wool to Granny Square and all morning Granny Square crocheted and by lunchtime the sea-coloured wool was all used up.

Then Knit and Purl went swimming in the garden. They swam and splashed and swam some more and Purl had almost managed to teach Knit how to do the backstroke when she suddenly saw something very surprising.

“Granny Square!” she called. “Did you knit fish?”
“I didn’t knit anything,” called back Granny Square from inside the caravan. “I crocheted the sea!”
Then Purl saw another fish…and another. 

Then Knit saw one and he remembered something he had spotted in the wood shed. 
He leapt out of the sea and he was back in no time carrying Grandpa Square’s old fishing rod. 
Purl swam away to safe distance as Knit cast his line and, to his surprise, when he pulled it up there was a little wriggling fish on the end. He thew it back and straight away he caught another one. “Fishing is fun!” He shouted to Purl. “I never knew it was so easy!”
“Fishing is fun – is it?” Boomed a a very loud voice.
Knit turned to see who had spoken and he got such a shock he dropped the rod and fell off the step into the sea.
“You are quite right,” said the fish. “Fishing is fun!”
But Knit had changed his mind.
In the end, Purl came to Knit’s rescue.
 She persuaded the fish that it would be more fun to put the rod down and give them a swimming lesson… 
…and they all swam together until teatime, when Granny Square came out. 
Granny Square was carrying a bottle. Knit and Purl hoped it would be some lemonade for them. 
But Granny Square threw the bottle into the sea.
“Why did you do that?” asked Knit.
“It is a message,” said Granny Square.
“For Old Wool?” asked Knit.
“For Grandpa Square,” said Purl. “Which colour of the sea do you suppose Grandpa Square is lost in, Granny Square…”
But Granny Square didn’t answer. She was already unravelling the sea and winding it back into balls to make something else another time.
THE END

19 thoughts on “An Autumn Story (A Granny Square Post)

  1. Claire Earley says:

    Thank you so much for your stories Janine, you are a wonderful storyteller, as you obviously understand, grown ups love stories too ;-) I'm already looking forward to hearing what Granny Square will do for Crimbo (no pressure). Good luck in all you do x

    Like

  2. liniecat says:

    These stories should all be published with your own illustrations!

    Adorable – Id buy them for my grandchildren – but then I collect childrens books that feature (originally) textile illustrations, so the children are just a cover lol

    Like

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