Yarned & Dangerous: A Place Where Everyone Knows Your Name

When I was growing up, we had a den with a stone fireplace. In the evenings, we’d gather together as family in front of one of those great family sit-coms-like Happy Days or The Jeffersons. My dad would usually lie on the floor with his feet up on the couch and fall asleep, and my mom would sit in the corner of the couch, her hands busy with something, embroidery or knitting. I loved watching the glint of the firelight reflect off of her flashing needles. I always thought I’d learn to knit, but fiber arts was never really my jam.

When I inherited an art classroom, the yarn was a snarly mess and and I didn’t really know what to do with the cardboard looms, or big, plastic needles, and for awhile I decided that yarn stuff was craft, not art, and I ignored it.

Then I went on a field trip with the fourth graders and learned how to spin wool. I realized that spinning wool, making yarn, and turning the yarn into something beautiful and useful was an opportunity to connect art with history and I began a weaving unit. I knew the basics of weaving, but I just had to be better than a fourth graders.

About a year or so ago, a few of my friends talked me into a knitting class at the local Yarned & Dangerous store. I’d been in the store, because I like color and pattern and texture, but in my head I didn’t consider myself a fiber artist. I went to the class more to be with my friends than to learn a new skill; I didn’t know that the store would change my life.

Yarned & Dangerous is not just a store; it’s a live colorful, warm, inviting community. You are greeted when you walk in the door and welcomed into experiencing the space. There is a big table where people gather to knit, crochet, weave, or just sit a moment and take in the vibe.

The owner of the store, Tammy Cox, has built a rich inventory of all things fiber and she is kind, patient and helpful. She personally helped me knit a sweater, because I always have to start big with everything I try, so I picked a sweater that was made in pieces and stitched together. It took me five months to figure it all out, but I had help at every turn. I call it the village sweater, because it took “the village” to grow it. It’s not perfect, but I love it because I became part of the community during its creation.

Recently, the store has moved across the street. Tammy and her husband Aaron have worked countless hours reburbishing the Old Taggert building downtown into the new yarn space. From the ceiling to the floor, they have stripped, sanded, painted, refit, redid, re-everything and transformed a cold, cavernous skeleton of a warehouse into a kaleidoscope of color. I have been in the building a few times during the transition, but I walked in on opening day and was completely blown away with the beauty. Even though the merchandise hasn’t really changed the space is big enough so all the colors and textures really command their own spotlights. It’s honestly kind of magical. It reminds me of those cozy evenings I had as a kid, surrounded by people I love, where everyone knew my name.

During this time of transition, while I am learning to breathe and heal and listen to my heart, Yarned & Dangerous has become my refuge. Even though, I still consider myself more of a painter or mosaic artist, I’ve come to understand that community doesn’t have to be rooted in one medium, or even one place. Yarned & Dangerous isn’t about just yarn, or any single form of making; it’s about connection, courage, and the shared act of creating in a world that often asks artists to work alone. It allows for restlessness, for movement, for new landscapes both literal and internal. Rather than anchoring me, it travels with me—an open table instead of a fixed studio, a gathering point instead of a destination. In this way, Yarned & Dangerous becomes exactly what I need in this season of life: a creative home that leaves the door open, invites others in, and still lets the road call my name.

I am so grateful that I stumbled into this place. Yarned & Dangerous has helped me realize that I can still grow and learn and thrive. I feel fortunate and proud to know that it is part of my community.