I'm A Knitter (short story, humour) by Leanne Dyck

Knitters have a code. What if you break that code?

photo by Manon

I'm A Knitter

Really, I'm not a bad person. I don't mistreat small animals. I like kids. I just have this one small vice. Please don't judge me.

I have been knitting now for twenty years. You would think that I would be turning out wonderful tapestries of colour. I see the patterns. I admire the garments. Really, honestly, I do. They're just...well...and it pains me to confess this...um, well...they're just not what I want to knit. You see, I'm a "lazy knitter." It's hard for me to admit—but it's true.

After a hard day, I love nothing better than to kick back, grab my needles and some yarn, turn off my brain, and knit. That's why I knit scarves. I must have turned out twenty or thirty of these useful pieces of apparel. All necks are adorned by my stitches. My husband. Our kids. The milkman. Our dog.

I see the looks. I hear the whispers.

"She's not a knitter. She wastes her time knitting scar-ves."

I know I and my kind are not welcome in knitting groups.

They say, "You can't simply knit a scarf! You have to add cables, intarsia, or..."

And I have tried. Really, honestly, I have.

Graphs and lace work just aren't for me. They cause eyestrain. They damage my brain. I hate math!

I turn to knitting for solace. It's my means of escape. If I wanted to work on my hobby, I would take up gardening.

All I want is acceptance. All I want is to belong. Surely, that's not too much to ask. Surely, I'm not alone. Surely, there is someone out there who can understand. 

I'm a knitter... Aren't I?

photo by bdyck

Recently, my friend Manon and I went on another off-island adventure. This time we sailed to Salt Spring Island—a big sister island to my island home, Mayne Island.

For me, a highlight of that trip was visiting Artcraft Gallery and Shop.

AI Overview: "Artcraft is the longest-running juried fine art and handmade craft exhibition in British Columbia."

Visiting Mahon Hall (114 Rainbow Road) brought back vivid memories of delivering suitcases full of handknitting in early June. Each year my handknit baby sweaters sold like hotcakes.

On this tip, I was pleased to discover that an artisan has stepped up to fill the void my aching wrists forced me to leave.

photo by ldyck

Artcraft is open daily from 10:00 AM to 5:00 PM until September 20, 2026.

I Would (poem) by Leanne Dyck

A fun, tongue-twisting poem and the ancient poem it inspired

photo by ldyck

 I Would 

I would.

if I could.

But I can't

so I won't.

Would you

if you could?

If you would,

go

do.

written May 2026

I wrote this poetry review in 1987 for the University of Winnipeg’s Children’s Literature course.

I would if I could

If I couldn’t, how could I?

I couldn’t, without I could, could I?

Could you, without you, could ye?

Could ye? Could ye?

Could you, without you could, could ye?

I love the nonsense of this traditional Mother Goose nursery rhyme. It seems to flow in a silly fashion, begging to be told. It gives far more in fun and frolic than it ever demands of the listener. It does, however, have a message: that it is silly and unnecessary to think too much. I agree wholeheartedly with its unmistakable logic.

photo by ldyck

My friend and fine artist Jody Waldie at her recent art show on Mayne Island.

Terrill Welch Gallery Spotlight on artist Jody Waldie

by Terrill Welch

September 25, 2022

Loving Lisa (short story) by Leanne Dyck

Love demands of the lovers to have faith, to trust.
And if you lose faith...
If trust is gone...

photo by ldyck

Loving Lisa

It's hard to breathe, think, move. It feels like one of my vital organs is missing—a liver, a kidney, a lung, my heart.

I know it would help if I could cry, but I'm beyond tears. I'm numb—my brain's valiant effort to protect me from the truth.

But what is the truth?

I roll the gold band around and around on my ring finger. I walk over to the fireplace and take our wedding photo off the mantel.

Who is this young couple? They look so happy, so much in love—joined together by a promise. Has he broken that promise?

I replace the photo and find myself in the kitchen. Coffee mug in hand, I sit at the table and peer out the window to where his car should be.

I don't want to think I feel abandoned. I feel the distance between us.

But we've always been of different worlds. Me...? I'm constantly in my head—analyzing, dissecting, categorizing, creating. I sit at my easel for hours. Paint splashes across the white canvas. He's always in motion—pumping weights, jogging, swimming, kayaking. He's a ray of light bouncing around the earth.

I'd like to drink away my worry with a glass of wine. I settle for coffee—it's hot against my tongue. 

How he hates my dark moods.

"You should talk with someone," he often tells me, pushing me to treatment. I know what he thinks: fix yourself; you're broken. I'm not allowed to be negative, ever. He expects me to be perpetually happy. Well, that's not normal. It's fake. He takes my sadness as a personal insult.

He proudly hangs my paintings of sunshine and sweet things, but my darker, moodier creations are relegated to my studio.

"Why did you paint that?" He asks, judging, trying to censor me. 

"You have no right," I tell him, and we fight.

Did I drive him away?

It may sound odd, but I'd like to think that I was at least partially responsible. It gives me a sense of control. I'd rather believe that than...

Is someone else involved?

He's a good-looking man. I see how other women leer at him. They lick their lips like he's chocolate. Lately, I've noticed one of his students—a sweet, young thing. What's her name? Oh, yes, Lisa. I see how Lisa swallows him up with her eyes, then quickly looks away.

Where is he right now? Are they twisted together in silk sheets? Is he loving Lisa? What's the truth?

On and Off Mayne Island

Singer Georgia Lee Johnson

House Show Victoria

Saturday, August 15

7 pm

photo by ldyck

My Year in Fairland

Book Launch and Reading

Mayne Island Library

Saturday, August 22

3:30 PM

A Secret Message Everyone Could See (poem) by Leanne Dyck

 A dear memory of a mother's love.

photo by ldyck

A Secret Message Everyone Could See

My mom cradled my hand in hers.

With the finger of her other hand,

she wrote letters

in my palm.

I

L

O

V

E

Y

O

U

A secret message

that only I could feel,

but everyone else

could see. 

"selfie" by ldyck

(My neighbour Kathy gave me this beautiful flower.)

My summer reading list...

Remarkably Bright Creatures

by Shelby Van Pelt

An octopus forms a special relationship with a lonely senior citizen.

Lent to me by a friend

read

The Ultimate Sadness of Small Appliances

by Glenn Dixon

A brief book blurb by the author

Purchased online

read

A Dog's Journey

by W Bruce Cameron

Explores the special relationship between a dog and their human.

Thrift shop find

read

The Mystery Guest

by Nita Prose

A famous writer is found dead. Why? How? Who?

The second book in the Molly Maid series.

Yarn sale find

read

Homer's Odyssesy

by Gwen Cooper

The remarkable adventures of a blind cat.

Given to me by a friend

reading

Searching for Terry Punchout

by Tyler Hellard

Ordered online

to be read

Summer of My German Soldier

by Bette Greene

Ordered online

re-read (I read this book for the first time when I was in junior high.)