In her comfort zone

On a Wednesday night, a circle of women gather at Shelly Whitman’s childhood home in Columbia Falls. There is laughter, pink wine and orange slices and, of course, knitting.

The group varies in skill, some just beginning, some finishing their first projects and all fumbling through new patterns, but progress is made and valuable lessons are learned, i.e. forgetting your pattern at the store doesn’t get you anywhere, directions are there for a reason and getting your balls in a knot is a real drag.

The petite Whitman bounces from knitter to knitter, quick to lend a hand when a hole is discovered or a straight scarf accidentally becomes a circle, never missing a beat in the banter of the women poking fun at the expense of their absent husbands and up-to-no-good pets.

Whitman is the face of ButternutWoolens.com, a knitters blog and online yarn shop based in Columbia Falls.

After more than 20 years away, Whitman returned to Columbia Falls a year ago with 43 pounds of wool.

Most of it she had grown herself on the farm she shared in Oregon with her then-husband. She raised sheep, angora rabbits and twin boys and grew apples, dyed yarn and worked full time.

But then divorce hit and she found herself without a farm and without her beloved animals, with nowhere to live, nowhere to dye. So she moved in with her mother and stepfather for a bit before taking up residence in the house she had grown up in, a 1907 fixer-upper on a neglected street cratered with potholes.

Today Whitman is halfway through what she refers to as her “year of doing nothing,” a sabbatical she began in July 2009 inspired by the book, “When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times” by Pema Chodron.

She quit her job working for the state to take a break from the stress and rigors that had filled her life in years past for a chance to slow down and breathe, watch her boys grow and dye yarn.

She shares her experiences on ButternutWoolens.com and its sister blog, “My Year of Doing Nothing,” with some 3,000 to 10,000 people a month — if page view statistics can be trusted — and in doing so has created a sort of network of strength sharing her adventures in love and loss interspersed with witty conversations with her inquisitive 9-year-old twins.

“I’ve had a lot of losses in a short amount of time,” she said. “There are a lot of people that respond to that.”

Whitman vividly remembers an encounter at a wool show with a woman who had been reading the blogs.

“I have cancer,” the woman said as she walked up to Whitman’s booth.

“It was like a confession, this need to tell someone,” Whitman said of the stranger’s declaration. And it’s not the only time someone has reached out to her with a secret or heart-wrenching story. It’s all part of the network of strength built through the anonymous connection over the blogosphere. “I’m not their friend. I’m not going to run into them at a post office or grocery store,” she said.

“If I can be bold enough to do this and it helps one person, it’s worth it and the writing helps me understand, too.”

Whitman remembers her grandmother teaching her to knit when she was about 7 on the family ranch in West Yellowstone. It was something she did here and there as she grew, her mother reteaching her when she would forget, but it wasn’t until the Gulf War that she really explored what she considers the tactile comforts of yarn and knitting.

She views the current economic situation as a new catalyst for the resurgence of yarn crafts, especially in young people.

“I think people are knitting through that to cope,” she mused. “People want to reconnect with something tactile and comforting. We’re seeing a resurgence in the American textiles because of that.”

Between 2002 and 2004, the participation in knitting and crocheting by women between ages 25 and 34 increased by more than 150 percent, totaling some 6.5 million, according to the 2004 research study by the Craft Yarn Council of America. The number has only grown since.

“There’s a real push for authenticity,” Whitman said. “You can make a yarn be anything you want.”

Diana Blair of Going to the Sun Fiber Mill in Kalispell said she and her husband, Scott, have noticed the same thing. “Why not create an heirloom you can hand down?” she said.

Whitman, who holds degrees in geology from Montana State and Idaho State universities, dyes all of her yarns and fibers in a sheep feeding pan left over from her days as a farmer.

She works in small batches, drizzling the color dyes in swirls and splashes, pressing the dyes into the wool with her hands to spread the color in places and stop it in others. Each skein takes about 30 minutes and anywhere from 50 to 150 milllileters of dye, depending on the intensity. Because she never uses a straight dye, each skein is unique.

“I just kind of invent the colors on the fly as I look at what’s happening,” she said.

Many times she uses her knowledge of rocks and gems to inspire the hues. Her Homegrown line, a 100 percent light worsted wool, features 15 colors inspired by and named for natural flora and fauna in Northwest Montana.

For example, one variegated strand called Many Glacier blends a grassy green with rust, mauve, teal and slate.

She also offers a variety of skinny sock yarns and a new line called Thick n Thin that cashes in on the bulky trend dominating the fashion runways.

While Whitman sticks primarily to sheep wool and angora, she knows people who spin buffalo fiber and even dog hair.

With less than six months to go in her soul-searching journey, Whitman says she finds herself calmer and less driven. The time off has allowed her to explore things she would never have been able to before, such as meditation, Buddhism and cable knitting.

“It’s a leap of faith. You just have to do it,” she said.

And even though she has crossed the halfway mark, the 46-year-old says she still doesn’t know what the outcome will be or if she’ll even be able to make it to the end.

“I have a lot of fear. I think I’m just barely brave enough to try.”

Reporter Erika Hoefer may be reached at 758-4439 or by e-mail at ehoefer@dailyinterlake.com