The Mitten Tree

One of my favorite children's books is The Mitten Tree, by Candace Christiansen and Elaine Greenstein. In the story, an older woman whose children are grown and gone enjoys watching the neighborhood school children gather near her house as they wait for their school bus. One day, she notices that one boy, standing alone and away from the others who are playing in the snow around the spruce tree, lacks mittens and can't play in the snow. So she gets to work on a pair of blue mittens for him. That next day, she hangs them on the spruce tree for him and soon he is playing happily with the others. By the end of the book, she has knitted mittens for all the kids and they, in turn, have surprised her with a whole new basket of brightly-colored yarn. Neither side "knows" where the mittens or yarn come from, "but someone must . . . "

It's a charming story about generosity, community, kindness. And everytime I read it aloud to Sis (for it is she who always requests it), I want to knit mittens. Mind you, I don't knit well enough to knit mittens; I'm only able to create simple rectangular knit-and-purl scarves. However, I might be motivated to learn to knit mittens. Sure, I could probably crochet some mittens (I'm a better crocheter). But it just isn't the same, isn't like the story. And I want to make lots of mittens and give them all away.

Somehow, an idea is germinating in the back of my head, a kind of fiber arts ministry, not just prayer shawls and baby blankets and baby caps and mittens but all manner of handmade yarn items (or why stop at yarn? fleece blankets and cotton pillowcases!) to donate . . . . I love to make all these things but don't need to keep them. And everyone feels better with a special homemade item just for them. I just have to figure out the details.