Paul Leone Knitting a double-strand, mohair mix braid scarf.

"From now on, I'm only knitting socks!"  Behind glasses and shaggy bangs, the woman's wild eyes stared at each of us, while her fingers wrapped a bright orange yarn around four chopstick-sized needles.  "I found this yarn on a sweater I started months ago and I tore it apart.  I love this yarn.  It's sock yarn."

Across the room, another woman caressed emerald-, aquamarine-, and buttermilk-colored wools.  She hugged an enormous length of thick maroon against her chest and said, "Every time I come here I have to buy wool to make another scarf."

"When did you start knitting?"  I asked her.

"Three scarves ago," she answered.

On a chartreuse chair beside shelves of books with titles like Celebrity Scarves and The Ultimate Knitter's Guide, a knitter sat and complained, "I knit one sock that was a bit wide in the toes.  I gave it to my daughter to try on and she said, 'Oh, mom, you've knit me a hobbit sock.'  So I didn't knit the other one."

In the corner of a white L-shaped couch, a dark-haired woman quietly knit a long red snake.

This is typical evening banter at Woodstock Wool, the store Paul Leone and James Conrad opened two years ago, after moving to Woodstock from New York City several years before that.  Their dream was to create a place for people to meet, socialize, and knit.  In the front of the store a seating area made up of a sofa, chairs, and cushions is an open invitation for people to stop by and stay awhile, casually throughout each day as well as during one of the store's many weekly groups.

An assortment of knitting needles at Woodstock Wool

Sunday afternoons is Charity Knit.  Using leftover yarn and yarn that has been donated to the store, people knit sweaters and blankets for the women and children staying at the Kingston women's shelter.  Monday evenings, everyone brings a dish to Gourmet Knit.  The last two Sundays of the month are reserved for workshops.  People learn how to knit socks (cuffs the first Sunday; the following week, heels), or they learn five new stitches for a paneled baby blanket, or they practice making hats using circular needles.

A novelist himself (Making Love to the Minor Poets of Chicago, St. Martin's Press, 2000), Conrad leads the Book Group, which meets the first Monday of every month.  Most of the books selected are by Hudson Valley authors, and whenever possible the authors themselves join the knitters for an informal evening of coffee, questions, and answers - accompanied by knitting, of course.  Visiting authors have included Gail Godwin, Maria Housden, and Abigail Thomas.

Soup Group is on Tuesdays.  In a small kitchen in the back of the 3,000-square foot store, Leone experiments with a new or favorite recipe.  To accompany the soup, people bring their yarn, their stories, and bottles of wine.

On a late summer night, with a touch of fall in the air, a cream of winter vegetable soup simmered on the stove beside a platter of whole roasted garlic cloves.  When spooned into the soup, the cloves floated and garlic oil infused the cream.  A round multigrain loaf rested on a plate beside wedges of a white Italian cheese, a cinnamon sugar spread, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.  Peckish knitters poured soup from a solid glass ladle into white ceramic bowls, while bawdy laughter drowned out the sounds of Liz Phair, who was being played on the sound system.  The knitters ate, drank wine, and knit late into the evening.

Shari Gold with a knit poncho

All kinds of people come to the wool store: people new to the area; people who have lived here all their lives; and new as well as seasoned knitters of all ages.  The new knitters typically start with a scarf.  It's a practical item that is relatively quick and easy to complete (although once I overheard a man joke to a friend, "I would pay someone to finish this scarf for me!").

"People meet here and make real connections," Leone said.  "People find refuge here...or they network."

My first project was a baby blanket.  I started it last January, when the days were cold and short.  A friend from Toronto (where stitch 'n' bitch groups are the rage) sat on my couch, and as we chatted idly about our lives a tiny baby boot appeared between her two flashing needles.  She taught me one stitch and I was hooked.  That's when I discovered the wool store and the organic, handspun, vegetable-dyed cotton they keep in stock especially for baby-wear.  A small blanket is a gift that will become an heirloom - and it's an easy project for someone who knows only one stitch.

What surprises me most about knitting is how calming it is.  Since I've started, I often find myself reaching for my wool bag when I'm in a funk, or when I'm nervous, or when I'm watching a movie that's not quite bad enough to turn off.  Knitting is obsessive, compulsive, and surprisingly relaxing.

Abigail Thomas and James Conrad.

As a new knitter, I sometimes just drop into the wool store to observe.  On any day, sweaters made of the finest wool are being formed between deft fingers.  There are always beginners honing their skills on a new stitch, a new yarn, a new type of needle, or a combination of the above.  Patterns are being experimented with, and people are happy to share their triumphs and tribulations, and to offer advice.

In this world where so many of us are separated geographically from our families, these casual weekly meetings take on a deeper significance.  The groups are about knitting, but they're about seeing familiar faces, too.  From week to week we watch as someone tries a new yarn, learns a new stitch, or begins a new project.  We watch as a sweater gains arms, a glove fingers, or as a scarf loops past a lap and to the floor.  It is evidence that life has been lived.

The yarns themselves inspire the imagination: One is as soft as goose down wrapped around thread.  It's dyed the colors of jewels in shadow, and is slippery between the fingers.  Another is crimson silk.  Another is thick and chunky.  The top of an oversized shelf overflows with handspun wool from Uruguay in all the colors of autumn.  Add to that needle size, project, and stitch; knit two yarns as one; combine texture, color, and pattern...and the possibilities are infinite.

Knitting is an activity that fills the empty spots in a day.  Obsessive-compulsive personalities pick it up easily.  "It's great for quitting smoking," said Leone, using himself as proof since he has quit several times.

When knitting, people often reminisce about where they learned their first stitch.  Usually, it was a mother who taught them, or a grandmother, or a father, or a friend.  People remember the person who got them hooked, and they make things to give to other people.  I often think about that one stitch taught to me by my friend.  I'm amazed where it has led me.  After five quiet years of living and working in my house in Woodstock, I've been invited to barbeques, introduced to people I admire and people that make me laugh, and I keep adding phone numbers and email addresses to my Palm Pilot.  I've found hiking partners and people to swap books with.  Next week, someone has promised to teach me a second stitch.