In Roseville, The Knitters Stitch Sweaters and Friendship

In a sunroom at a Roseville home, around a table piled with coffee cups and plates of apple cake, knitting needles clacked and knitters yakked -- as they have every Wednesday for a quarter-century.

Their friendships are as lasting and intricate as the Norwegian sweaters, hats, dolls, mittens and scarves they create out of wool, often ordered directly from Norway.

I have been knitting nearly all of my life, since my aunt taught me when I was in kindergarten.j, so when I received an e-mail from "norsknit" in August, responding to one of my Patch articles, I wrote back, asking if the sender was a knitter.

Indeed she was, Donna Aase of Roseville replied, telling me of the needlework klatsch she belongs to.

"I smell a story," was my response, and after several e-mails arranging an interview, just as the air was chilling enough to start thinking sweaters, I was in the warm company of women who just call their loose organization "The Knitters." No dues, no committees, no minutes -- just Wednesday meetings which they describe as "sacrosanct."

Hostessing for the five-hour gatherings is round-robin. Elaine Sime opened her Roseville home that day and provided comfortable chairs and coffee treats (the group has even made a loose-leaf cookbook of favorite baked goods served over the years).

Sime went into her closet to bring out samples of the 42 colorful Scandinavian sweaters she's made in the last 25 years, while the others, knitting their current projects, told me how the group coalesced.

Aase recalled that Shirley Hansen, a home ec teacher and pastor's wife formerly of White Bear Lake, now living near the river in south Minneapolis, cast on  the first "stitch" in their 25 years of knitting. She learned the craft as a child, and in 1965, wore a handmade Norwegian sweater to a circle meeting at Roseville Lutheran Church. Word spread about her skill with needles.

"I heard Shirley was offering classes, so I signed up. The eight of us there bonded, and we've been knitting every Wednesday since. That class was the best $20 I ever spent. I've been getting free knitting advice all these years," said Aase.

Though a few have put down their needles over the years, the core group remains. Peg Hanson is the only non-Lutheran, "but we accept her anyway," joked Barb Guenthner of Mahtomedi, knitting a tweed hat to donate to the homeless.

Peg, of Minneapolis, learned about her Norwegian heritage when she worked at the Sons of Norway headquarters, and the other Norsks in the group have also researched the history of their ancestors' needle skills. "Early knitters didn't have patterns. They just shared ideas," said Shirley Hansen. "Even Norwegian men knit homemade socks and underwear."

"You are in a roomful of yarn collectors," said Sime. They often order long fiber wool from Husflinden in Oslo, or seek out local shops, such as StevenBe at 35th and Chicago Avenue in south Minneapolis, where the yarn is piled to the ceiling. Other sources Ingebretsen's in Minneapolis, Borealis in St. Paul, Knits and Pearls in Arden Hills or Double Ewe in Circle Pines- "and garage sales," admitted Aase.  Pewter sweater buttons come from Norway, despite shockingly-high prices.

"It's a good thing we live in a cold climate," Aase said about their sweater-making addiction. They have knit for all their family members and for friends, and are always eager for new ideas, such as felting, wristlets and vests.

"We'll keep doing this as long as our fingers still work," said Peg Hanson. "Over the years we've lost three husbands and two boobs. We've lived through divorce, weddings, new grandkids. A lot more goes on at our meetings than just knitting." They've even staged their own get-away retreats to knit non-stop for a weekend, and often sign up for other knitting "camps."

"This is such a sensual craft," Sime said, hugging the Icelandic wool sweater I'm currently making which I brought to prove my own love of knitting. "You can feel it, see it, cuddle it."  

Aase, who was an accountant, keeps a log of the sweaters she has knit, listing stitches and size of needles.

Karen Daninger believes knitting has come back into fashion because today's yarns are more appealing.

"My daughter doesn't knit but my granddaughter does," Daninger said, proving that knitting is now hip for the younger crowd. "We're not making argyle socks anymore," said group members who now find more stylish patterns on the internet.

"Shirley's husband used to call this our AA group," said Sime. "This Wednesday knitting is our therapy. It's just necessary for us."