Knitting Outside the Lines
The first time I took my knitting outside, I wasn't really thinking about the benefits of crafting in nature. I was taking part in Avon River Unframed, an outdoor art event hosted by Avon River Arts in 2025, and mostly thought it would be a nice way to spend a day knitting while talking to people about climate change. It was also the first time I'd ever taken the project into public.
I ended up sitting under an apple tree, knitting during a heatwave and a historical drought. There was something almost romantic about it. Here I was, doing a craft that has been practised by thousands of women for generations, while working on a project about the changing climate happening right around me. That connection wasn't lost on me.
When the weather becomes part of the story
One of the things I enjoy about taking the project outside is being able to connect what I'm knitting with what is actually happening around me. I don't mean that every warm day or snowy morning is evidence of a climate trend. It's not. Those kinds of observations aren't statistically significant on their own. But they can be helpful reminders that weather is something we experience, not just something recorded in a dataset.
I especially notice this around New Year's Day. One of my traditions is to watch the first sunrise of the year while knitting the final row of the previous year. The differences from one year to the next can be striking, particularly when it comes to snow. It's a small ritual, but it gives me a chance to pause, look around, and think about the year I'm finishing and the one I'm about to begin.
A different way to connect
Knitting outdoors also changes how I interact with other people. When I'm sitting somewhere knitting, people often stop to say hello. They're usually drawn in by the colours first, then ask what I'm making. That gives me an opening to explain the project and talk about climate data.
It's a different kind of interaction than posting online or standing at an indoor event. There's something about being outside, surrounded by nature, that makes the whole experience feel a little less formal. And honestly, connecting with people is one of the biggest benefits for me.
Slowing down and letting go
The other big benefit is connecting with nature. When I'm outside, I'm less distracted. I notice the sounds and sights around me. I pay more attention to the weather, and generally slow down. I'm comfortable in nature as a hiker and birdwatcher, but being outside with my knitting feels different. I'm there as a fibre artist, and that identity is still relatively new to me.
I'm also incredibly protective of this project. I worry about the blankets getting dirty or something happening to the piece I'm working on. Being outside forces me to loosen that grip a little. Things can get messy. That's part of being outside. It's also a useful reminder that perfection isn't the goal. The goal is to complete the dataset and tell the story of local climate change.
Getting comfortable being an artist
I think there's another layer to all of this that I'm still figuring out. I only recently started describing myself as an artist. I’ve always enjoyed crafting, but I never really thought of myself as particularly artistic. Now, I'm taking my work into public spaces and receiving recognition as an artist, and I'm still getting used to that idea. Maybe that's a little bit of imposter syndrome. Maybe it's simply a new identity that hasn't quite settled in yet. Either way, taking my knitting outside has given me another opportunity to step outside my comfort zone.
A little more time outside
I don't take my knitting outdoors nearly as often as I could. But when I do, I find myself connecting with people and nature in ways that don't happen when I'm sitting inside.
Spending time in nature can help us slow down, feel calmer, and appreciate the world around us. More importantly, I think that when we see ourselves as part of the natural world, rather than separate from it, we become more aware of our responsibility to care for it.
For me, taking this project outside isn't about finding some perfect combination of knitting, nature, and climate science. It's simply another way to be present with the work, the world around me, and the people who stop to ask what I'm making. Maybe, as I get more comfortable calling myself an artist, I'll get a little more comfortable bringing the work outside, too.
