I love to knit. That is not to say that I am a fast knitter or even that good at it. Mostly I make things that turn out marginally well; then I tear them out and start over on something else. But here's the funny thing: It's not the finished product that I find so enjoyable. It's the process. It's the gentle rhythm, the pulling of one loop of yarn through another, over and over again.

Curiously, in all of knitting — and I'm talking about the most complicated and breathtakingly beautiful works of knitted wear — there exist only two stitches: knit and purl. That's it. And no matter how fast I knit or how slowly — how intricate or ordinary the pattern — one thing is certain: I can make only one stitch at a time. And one stitch makes absolutely no visual difference in whatever it is I'm working on at the moment.

Now and then, I come to the last stitch, bind it off and surprise even myself by what I've created. How did that happen? It's remarkable really that just one stitch at a time can bring such pleasing results.

I love the story author Jaroldeen Edwards ("Things I Wish I'd Known Sooner") tells of the trip she took with her daughter Carolyn one bleak and rainy day. She wasn't that thrilled to drive more than two hours to see flowers some woman had planted. But her daughter was insistent. "You're going to love this, Mom!" And tell me what mom could resist going along with that kind of enthusiasm.

They drove along the Rim of the World Highway, inching their way toward Lake Arrowhead through fog and drizzle. Jaroldeen now was certain she was being kidnapped by her daughter! Eventually Carolyn parked next to a small stone church and announced they would need to walk along a path, through huge, black-green evergreens and over a thick blanket of old pine needles.

Just as they turned the corner of the path, Jaroldeen stopped dead, literally gasping in amazement. "There before me was a most incredible and glorious sight! So unexpected and unimagined."

From the top of the mountain, sloping down several acres across folds and valleys, between the trees and bushes, following the natural flow of the terrain, were rivers of daffodils in radiant bloom. Every color of the spectrum of yellow blazed like a carpet before them. Why? How? Her mind flooded with questions for how this could be.

As they approached the mountain home situated in the sea of yellow, she saw a sign posted clearly by someone tired of answering the same questions:

"Answers to the Questions I Know You are Asking: One Woman, Two Hands, Two Feet, and Very Little Brain. One at a Time. Started in 1958."

A little bit here, a little bit there.

Mary Hunt is the founder of DebtProofLiving.com and author of 17 books, including "Debt-Proof Living." You can e-mail her at [email protected], or write to Everyday Cheapskate, P.O. Box 2135, Paramount, CA 90723. To find out more about Mary Hunt and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.