It all started innocently enough. A crochet hook wielded in pursuit of novelty. One rock covered with fuzzy dog hair and silk yarn. Now they're taking over.
When Rowan came home from Girl Scouts camp early last week, she brought with her a bag of cotton crochet thread and hooks generously given by my mom. I couldn't resist. The yarn, hooks, and rocks were all upstairs; the pattern was way down in my studio. No matter. This wasn't rocket science after all.
I settled down in a camp chair on the deck to soak in some sun (!) and started crocheting. First a short chain joined into a loop. Then double crochet stitches, one after another. I worked spontaneously, making up the pattern as I went. The results made me smile. My little rock now looked somewhat like an urchin. With a cool breeze starting to blow, I retreated indoors to the recliner. A second rock urchin joined the first, then a third.
What is a group of urchins called? Surely not a school, like fish. Perhaps a field? Wikipedia was of no help on this question.
The next day I was no longer satisfied. I couldn't fully develop a pattern with only a 2-inch canvas to cover. A quick trip to the Dock Point beach provided me with several 5-inch round rocks, a much better size for playing with design, but still small enough to be manageable. Two larger urchins now joined the group. As I was still making up the designs as I went, each one was unique, as it should be. No self-respecting urchin would be just like another.
I may be slightly addicted to making these. They meet my current requirement of being quick to make, but they satisfy my need to not make exactly the same thing over and over. I just learned on Wikipedia that marine urchins have fivefold symmetry, a design consideration I may have to adopt into my next creations. Perhaps, but then again, whoever told a rock urchin it had to be just like a sea urchin?
Now, whatever should I do with all these urchins before they take over my house?
