Knitting needles can be a cure, as grans and Georgian ladies knew
Daily Maverick | 08.07.2026 18:00
When I imagine my mother, gone these past 26 years, I see her in her garden, humming gently, a pair of secateurs in her muddy gardening-gloved hands. Her back bent – one half of a parenthesis – as she tended her prized roses. Trimming, shaping, pruning, cutting: a tuneless strain, more mantra than song, emerging from her into the garden. Tendrils of brown curls escaping from under her scarf. Outside with her roses; that was my mother’s happy place.
