Springtime brings flowers and also...

Last fall I enthusiastically began the Central Park Hoodie from IK's Fall '07 issue. The weather was getting cooler and, as I knitted, I thought about how warm the new sweater was going to be. The project took me into the winter and then got kicked to the back burner by Christmas knitting. Now, as the weather has begun to change again, poor CPH remains as it was and probably nothing short of October frost warnings will move it forward.

Now, I've become enamored with cotton yarns. Once before, I tried to make a spring sweater with cotton. The yarn was a good 100% cotton and the colorway was Delft blue and white. I'd looked forward to the project, a classic crew neck pullover with short sleeves and I should have enjoyed making it but I didn't. I disliked how the fabric hung. It felt limp and lifeless, like a dishcloth. I realized that what I missed was everything I loved about wool--its bounce, its spring, it's memory. I abandoned the project and gave the yarn away. From that point on, I knitted only with wool. That is, until Sheldon came along.

The designer of the Sheldon pattern recommended Knitpicks Shine Sport, which is a blend of washable pima cotton and Modal. It wasn't as lively as wool, but the knitted fabric was soft and somewhat spongy, with a hint of shine and I was surprised at how nice it was to work with.


Now I'm working with Cascade Cotton Rich DK and giving it another shot. This yarn is 2/3 cotton and 1/3 nylon. It doesn't have as much memory as the Shine Sport but it's very soft and I love how bright the white is. I'm using the basic guidelines from 1000 Sweaters, by Amanda Griffiths. The book breaks down the basic sweater into components and you can choose which sleeve, collar, pocket and neckline finish you want. I'm making a short sleeved cardigan with a band of double eyelets up the front and back. I'll probably finish it off with a ribbed band up the front and around the neck, but I'd really like to do some kind of collar. The problem is that all the collars in the book are knit separately and sewn on--who wants one more seam to sew? I think I'll try to pick up the stitches around the neck and play around with a polo collar, or even a little hood. Who knows?



And, speaking of springtime flowers, here's a photo of our little Molly sitting among the forsythias.

An Easter Secret Revealed

I've been dying to post about my latest project but couldn't because it was to be a gift for my daughter, Julie, who, bless her heart, reads my blog. (Hey, Toots!) So, here finally, he is. His name is Sheldon and the pattern is available from Knitty. When the pattern was first published, I remember seeing it but thought nothing more of it. (Have we heard this story before?) This is surprising, because I have an affinity for turtles--after all, the terrapin is the official State Reptile for my home state and the mascot for the University of Maryland, which is my alma mater...and my husband's...and my Mother-in-Law's...and, most recently, the aforesaid daughter's. How did I miss this? Anyway, I saw the completed Sheldon in my local yarn store and it was love at first sight. One of the owners had knit it and taken the pattern one step further by implanting a music box in his head. Of course, I had to make one. I chose a recordable music unit and downloaded a few bars of Van Morrison's "Brown-Eyed Girl" since that's what I used to sing to Julie when she was a babe in arms. I never imagined I would ever be knitting a turtle! It was such fun and not very difficult at all. The hardest part was not telling Julie what I was working on.

Rantings from a Yahoo Groupie

I have a long list of crafty things that I like to do and for every hobby, I am a member of at least one corresponding Yahoo group. My favorite, of course, is the knitting group. I call it "Knitting 911" because they always seem to come to my rescue when I knit myself into a corner. I'm amazed at the graciousness of the many knitters who take the time to offer assistance to anyone who asks a question. I read it every day and I'm constantly learning new things about knitting.

This morning, I didn't get past the first post. One member had apparently put together a pattern for special socks for those who are prone to foot problems and offered it free of charge on her blog. She asked that the pattern be for personal purposes and, should anyone want to sell socks made from it, that they ask permission first. Most of the related posts were from other members who had a question or who expressed appreciation for the free pattern. Everyone was playing nice until someone posted that the disclaimer was inappropriate because the pattern was simply a composite of "generic elements" of sock knitting and that we shouldn't get too involved in copyright issues, lest we, as knitters, "take ourselves too seriously."

Excuse me? Too seriously?

Part of me was already dragging out the soapbox. (Ok, in my house it's a library kick-stool, but it still serves the same purpose.) Personally I don't think that knitters take themselves seriously enough, but suppose they did? Would the streets be filled with wild eyed, crazy women (mostly) waving needles and wrapping policemen in merino yarn? Would we see the rise of two new political parties--the Pickers and the Throwers? Perhaps the airlines would prohibit anyone without knitting needles from flying!

Ok, ok, enough already, but I do think that knitters are like other crafters in that we don't give ourselves much value for what we do. Our community boasts its own big names but do we call Norah Gaughan and Cat Bhordi, "artists?" Certainly, few of us call ourselves, "artists" or even, "artisans." So what if the Tilted Duster never makes it to a museum unless someone wears it--does that mean it's not an incredible artistic accomplishment?

I'm getting a little carried away here, I know. I'm just suggesting that when someone asks you what you do, you say something like, "Oh, I'm a fiber artist." We are artisans. We practice a skilled craft and many of us practice at a highly skilled level. Let's take ourselves seriously!

Frankly, Scarlett...

Even as a little girl, I remember saying that my favorite color was red and yet, I have no recollection of any red clothes or red toys and certainly, no red shoes Nowadays, it's very different. I have all sorts of red clothes, a red car and yes, many red shoes but indulging my passion for the fiery hue in the sphere of knitting has not been all that easy. I'm very picky about which shade of red I want--it has to be clear and blue-based, without any undertones of orange or brown. So, if I'm able to find red yarn at all, it's usually the wrong red. (I know I drive yarn shop owners crazy but, goshdarnit, I'm old, so I get to be picky.)

Lately, I've been very lucky. I wandered into my favorite shop, Frivolous Fibers, last month and found exactly the right shade of red in Cascade 220. I'd been thinking about making a beret to match my favorite coat and eureka! There it was! Then, while I was about to leave, a skein of Blue Heron Metallic Rayon, also the right red, called out my name. Then it whispered, "Clapotis." Oh, I wanted to cast on for both projects before I left the parking lot but I do a lot better at driving if I don't try to knit at the same time.

At home, I took some time to check out the projects on Ravelry. The Ravelry folks have done so much to bring the knitting community closer together. I'm still learning my way around the site, (where I'm, "Pittepat" ) but it's become an invaluable tool 'in my knitting bag.' Sometimes I just wander, looking at what others have knit. As such, it can be an incredible black hole--time just gets sucked away. When I search for patterns that I'm fantasizing about, however, it really keeps me from having to reknit the wheel. Some members just post photos of their projects with specific details, which wool they used, the size they chose, etc, and even the most minimal information can be helpful. I looked for photos of a pattern called, "Gretel." I found that the hats that I liked the best were in Cascade 220 and I knew that I'd purchased enough yarn to complete the project. Others write a little note about their experiences and that's when you've hit paydirt. Among the Gretel knitters, there seemed to be a consensus that the slouchy version was a bit too much. Others mentioned that the band, as per the directions, came out too big. So, right there, I was ahead of the game. I decided to knit the regular version and I opted not to cast on using the specified tubular cast on, because I wanted less stretch in the band. In the end, I ended up casting on in the size needles stated in the pattern but I knit the band in one size smaller. After blocking the hat, I realized that the band is still a tiny bit too loose, but it's still very wearable.




Here's the finished hat. I used Ysolda Teague's pattern, Gretel. I loved this pattern the minute I saw it. The intertwining cables give it a Celtic look. While I find the act of knitting cables undaunting, I think that designing complex patterns, like this one, is an amazing feat.






As for the Clapotis , I saw the pattern when it was first published in Knitty but it didn't push any of my buttons. Suddenly, it seemed that everywhere I went, people were talking about this fantastic pattern. So, I reconsidered. Willie, at the yarn store knew the pattern and said the Rayon Metallic would be perfect so I went for it. I must say that now I love the scarf but knitting it was hell, primarily because I only had metallic needles. The rayon doesn't have any memory at all and, besides creating a looser fabric than I wanted, the stitches slid right off the needles. I didn't want to go back to the store for wooden needles, so I wound up working with my Denise needles. They proved to be a fair solution to both problems. The other reason the project was so difficult was that it's knit on the bias and almost every row has a different stitch count. The problem was compounded by the need for oh, so many stitch markers. I kept losing track of my place and ripping the whole thing out. I think I started over at least 15 times, if not more. Part of me wanted to throw the thing across the room but the other, fiercely stubborn part of me said I couldn't give up. Again, the Internet came to the rescue. I googled for the pattern and found a knitalong. I discovered that I wasn't alone in my struggle with the stitch counts and that someone had created a spreadsheet with stitch counts for each row. Others suggested that, instead of using stitch markers, a purl stitch served the same purpose. After that, it was just me and my knitting.

How did I ever finish anything before I found the Internet?

Wild Wooly Women

About three years ago I started a knitting group when a new coffee shop opened up in our town and the owner agreed to host the meetings. At first, the group was hit or miss and, after the first year, I considered letting it go. Fortunately, another member, Carolyn, offered to facilitate the meetings and thanks to her organizational skills and perseverance, Wild Wooly Women is thriving. We now rotate meetings among the members' houses and usually there are about 8 or 9 members in attendance, sometimes with a guest or two. Last night, a member of the hostess' family decided to join us. Normally, we were told, she is more reserved and not inclined to visit with strangers. However, she must have sensed that knitters love furry folks because she made herself part of the group immediately. She even expressed an interest in knitting.

I just love this group. For the most part, I suppose we are a homogeneous bunch, women of 40+ years of age with grown families, brought together by a common interest in the art of handknitting and yet, I'm surprised by the way we have grown into a little family. Each month, I look forward to seeing each one and, when one is absent, it feels "not right" until they return. One of the original members moved, during the first year and I still feel the loss; another will be moving to North Carolina and I know I will miss her (and her snappy wit) when she leaves. But, hopefully, we will go on, if only better for having known and loved the ladies in question. That's what families are supposed to do.

Casting On

Herman Melville wrote: We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.

My love affair with the color, texture, and manipulation of fibers began very young. At age five, my mother gave me one of those spool things and a hank of variegated Red Heart yarn. I loved seeing each color blend into the next but the knitted cord, which we now call i-cord, served very little purpose, as far as I could see. My mother said you could sew the cord into a round rug, but I had no interest in rugs at that point in my life. I was more interested in dolls and stuffed animals. So, Mom taught me to knit and I began to knit little scarves and vests for my inanimate friends. Shortly after that, she taught me to crochet and, in junior high school, to sew. Looking back, I think it's interesting that, although she passed on so many handcrafts to me, she never seemed to do much of them herself. I'm sure, it was a matter of time. She was a devoted full-time housewife and, like many of her generation, she put her own needs at the bottom of a list that never ended. Later, after the kids were out on their own and my father had retired, she returned to the art of crochet and she made many colorful baby blankets for grandchildren and afgans for their parents.

In college, I began to knit in earnest. Scarves gave way to simple crew necks and then to complex Aran knit cardigans and jackets. Recently, I found a fisherman knit sweater that I made for my husband before we married. (No one told me about the Sweater Curse and it didn't work against me.) It was made from heavy Irish wool and I remember what a joy it was to knit. The unprocessed wool was full of natural lanolin and it made my hands silky smooth when I worked with it. When it was finished, it was a source of great pride. Unfortunately, it was so heavy that he wore it only once. I stashed it away in a cedar chest and forgot about it. Last month, when I was looking for handknit garments to show my beginning knitters' class, I found it. Husband-in-question, Paul, saw it too and, before I knew it, he was wearing it while he worked on his computers in the unheated attic. Thirty-odd years later, it still fits.

To the business of blogging, I never thought I would want to do it. The more caustic part of my nature always asked, "What makes you think others want to share your thoughts?" However, I have read many great blogs--mostly about knitting. I have learned new things, enjoyed interesting stories, and been given much to consider. Having spent so many years as a solitary knitter, I realized that it could be an enriching group activity and, as such, the internet serves as the vehicle to bring us all together for just that purpose. So, here I am! Add "Blogger" to my resume.