My grandmother was a “yarn person.” I have very early memories of sitting next to her, watching wonderful things materialize in her hands like magic.
I started asking her to teach me these tricks when I was little, but for a while I got nothing but sad smiles– I was born with a left arm that ends just below the elbow, and my knitting or crocheting was a tough thing for her to envision, working with ten fingers herself.
Fortunately, I did manage to get hold of needles and yarn one rainy afternoon, and eventually I figured out enough to get started.
When I got stuck, I approached the babysitter, who was working on a pair of booties. She didn’t worry about my artificial hand– “You must be a whiz! I have enough trouble with two hands!”
Since that day, I’ve been a “yarn person” too.
Certainly there are techniques that use both hands to manipulate loops and strands to speed the knitting along, but that isn’t necessary to actually control the yarn or create the fabric.
The fact is, knitting is easily transformed into a one-handed operation, since the object is always to use one needle to work stitches off the other needle.
Most needles are fairly lightweight and can be managed with the thumb and middle finger, leaving the ring and pinky fingers to be laced with the working strand to create tension.
The index finger can be extended to lift the working strand for yarn overs.
I use my artificial hand to steady the second needle; other possibilities are numerous: I have placed a pillow on my lap and rested my left elbow on the needle.
I have a small table-top vise that I bought in a home-remodeling store that works beautifully to hold the left needle as well. I could also put the end of a straight needle under my left arm.
The key is to experiment; all I really had to do was stick with it until I found a configuration that works.
I went back to my grandmother with my first work in progress– a beautiful scarf in silver and dark green. She smiled, shaking her head to herself.
After that, she gave me no more sad smiles.
We collaborated, trading works-in-progress when they got boring. She liked to point out that she couldn’t distinguish my stitches from hers.
When she passed away, I inherited all her projects and supplies. If you’re a “yarn person” or would like to be, don’t let a disability stop you.
The art is flexible enough to accommodate many methods. Finding out what works is rewarding in itself, along with the pleasures of needles and yarn and finished projects made with love.