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The Day I Placed My FIRST
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My heart was pounding as I placed my first yarn bomb on a seaside bench in Piran, Slovenia. Now, I was forever branded as a yarn bomber. And this is my story.

After feverishly knitting my first yarn bombing piece for Piran, it was a matter of implementing the advise from the book “Yarn Bombing, the Art of Knit and Crochet Graffiti.” Unnoticeable, stealth, under the cover of night, ninja clothing, do not bring attention to yourself or the placement, the book suggested.

So in order to get the photo documentation, it was broad daylight, busy with sun bathers and pedestrians and I had butterflies in my stomach! Could we pull this off without being seen? Could I sew the seam closed quickly and without looking too awkward and suspicious? Would anyone notice my work, my first?

I chose  bench arm rest for placement of the yarn doodle. I had sat on that very bench in the past to ponder the view, knit and read, so it had meaning for me. It was one of four, painted white and separated by huge terra cotta pots of low growing plants. I wore a black large brim hat to go with my black outfit and to shade my eyes and camoflauge my features. I carried the work in a pant pocket, no large oversized suspicious bag to call attention to the installation. The blunt point needle was already threaded with a long tail so I was armed and equipped. My heart raced.

I sat down on the far right end of the bench, close to the tall container, angling my body to obscure what my agile sewer hands were doing, so no one could see what I was up to. I had intended to check my watch to time myself on how long it would require to slip stitch and fit this seven inch long project. But in the thrill of the moment, that plan went right out of my mind. I estimate that it took only one or two (or perhaps three) minutes at the most to do the deed. Then, I exhaled and casually looked up. No one even glanced my way. WOW, that was easy!

My husband, who must have been watching, sauntered over and took pictures of me looking quite mysterious and with my insistence, not shooting my hidden face. I walked over to a light post and hunched on the base to watch my bench to see if anyone would come by, notice and exclaim wonder and take pictures. It only took six minutes (now  I was counting) for an ample sized lady to plop down. Of the four possible benches available to her, she chose mine and on my end. She sat for several minutes looking out to the Adriatic Sea, scanning the people strolling past. Soon she was joined by her young friend, perhaps, I’d like to think, her daughter.

The two women chatted, the daughter rising to take a few photos, in fact, walking right past me to do so. They visited for about 30 minutes (yes I was not only counting but I was being ever so patient), got up then walked away, never noticing the knit sleeve covered arm rest hovering just below the older women’s elbow! Oh well.

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