and here it is in ink
Well for one, I didn’t post. The internet connection has been tenuous at best. Up, down, down, down, up for a little bit, down, down down.
On the other hand, I did knit. I finished and blocked the sweater. Someday, my connection will be stable enough to post a picture. I knitted a smoke ring. I bought tons of knitting books and I discovered the joys of buying yarn at elann.com.
Someday, you’ll see pictures.
Meanwhile, Happy New Year!!!
The Textured Raglan looked like a nice easy knit from the picture on the Shibui site. Heck, I had just finished the Refined Raglan (about halfway down the page) and how different could they be? Ahh, gentle readers. One little line in the pattern says it all:
Note: Pattern row will be worked on the WS except for this left side portion.
I pondered this. I even asked fellow knitters what it meant. Of course, they scoffed. Anyone who has followed a knitting pattern knows that more often than not, something has little or no meaning until you are actually doing it. In the doing, it comes together. In the reading, it does not.
I was doing and suddenly, this boring little 2 row repeat with the raglan decreases all happening every other row on a K row, and the pattern, a KKKPKP just going round and round and round . . . got turned on it’s ear.
Perhaps, there those of you with more knitting experience are having a little chuckle right now. You grasped the implications of that little “Note:” in the pattern right off.
For the rest of us, let me illustrate. The “different” stitch marker shows the start of the round. You can see the neck stitches bound off, creating that cute little scoop neckline that looks oh, so comfortable:
A schematic explains how the knitting shifts from round and round to back and forth:
Oh, delight is mine!
The pattern has become new again. With a two-row pattern and the start of the round in the “middle” of the back and forth, not at an edge, this turns the pattern partially backwards, and partially in side out. For me, the decrease row on the left side of the sweater is now most easily accomplished by knitting backwards. On the right side of the sweater, the pattern KKKPKP becomes PPPKPK.
No big changes. It simply requires the knitter to start thinking. Try doing what you’ve been doing backwards for a while, then try it inside out. Too much fun!! I am easily amused.
None-the-less, this is especially exciting because the sweater has long been in Stage 4 (see prior post), the hating phase where I believe the most appropriate finishing touch will occur when I light the match. At least the knitting is fun.
All of this “new” stuff at the very last part of the pattern. It makes me want to look at other patterns designed by Kirsten Christianson.
In fact, I did. Isn’t this a cute little sweater? I think I might like it better in a longer length. Can you imagine the fun of taking a cable pattern, and then looking at it inside out and backwards? Do you suppose this happens at the start of that V-neck?
Such simple pleasures knitting brings.
1. Yarn, pattern or kit catches your eye and tells brain, “Look closer.” Brain causes body to swivel about (rate of swivel depends upon a number of factors, including how besotted you became by the initial impression). Hand engages. Mind starts to race. Yes. I. Must. Have. The yarn, pattern or kit follows you home.
2. Yarn or pattern or . . . crawls into stash to begin the gestation period. Now here is where process differs slightly among knitters. For a monogamous knitter like me, yarn must be touched and fondled at least three times and on occasion, as many as ten times, before it comes into contact with needles. Patterns must be glanced at, read, glanced at, read, over and over and over and countless yarns considered.
For all those swinging knitters who have — gasp — multiple UFOs at any one time, the contact between yarn and needles may occur far more quickly. But, as I understand it, after the initial swatching and casting on, the project must still remain at rest until the gestation period is over. There are no exceptions; although, gestation periods may vary.
3. The brain gets upset that it’s initial infatuation has not been satiated. It wants this [ fill in the blank with the appropriate item: sweater, shawl, pair of socks, scarf, hat, other woolly item ] NOW. Frantic knitting coupled with passion for the entire process, the yarn, the needles, the pattern, the everything. Every single moment spent in the throws of this activity spells love, love, love.
4. Hate. You look at what you’ve done. It’s ugly. It’s not what you envisioned. The color is abysmal. The stitches are not even. Should you rip it out? Should you persevere? Maybe you could give it away. Someone would like it. Or would they? The thought crosses your mind, “Just finish it and burn it.”
I believe for the swinging knitters, this is the point at which the project is stuffed in to a bag — making room for yet another knitting bag purchase — and put away for a secondary gestation period. For monogamous knitters, this is the point at which knitting becomes a chore and the house finally gets cleaned. But how clean can a house be? Reluctantly, the project is resurrected and resumed.
In the case of the swinger, the project resumes when the knitter is looking for a favorite pair of scissors, stitch marker, needles, etc. and makes the dive into the stash-hoard, head first. “There it is,” your mind says, “it’s got to be in that lovely bag I bought ages ago.” Out pops the UFO ready to resume it’s proper place in the queue. Perhaps there is repeat of steps three and four.
Either way, swinger or monogamous, finally, it’s finished. Thank goodness that chore is over.
5. The knitting is done, you might as well block it. Or assemble it. Or sew seams or whatever the case may be. You carry out this drudgery and as you do so, you reminisce about the love you once shared. The memory of what you had initially envisioned has grown dim. But now, before you, something new flutters within you. Grow still, my beating heart you cry, as this phoenix rises into true magnificence.
Or maybe not. At any rate, you decide it isn’t so bad after all. You might as well send it along to it’s proper place, be it in your closet or to a friend. It becomes what it had always wanted to be in the first place. A hand knitted garment or object. An item that was lovingly created, stitch by stitch. No more, no less. I mean, it is, after all, just a [ fill in the blank with the appropriate item: sweater, shawl, pair of socks, scarf, hat, other woolly item ]. Lovely as it is, there will be others.
Oh yes, there will be others.
If you are reading this blog, chances are you read other knitting blogs. Me too. If you’re like me, I’m sure you find many of the knitting blogs out there in blog-land to be highly scintillating.
Last week, as a means of avoiding work (did I really put that in writing?), I was surfing about on all the blogs I’ve bookmarked over the past two years and I deduced these facts about what makes a knitting blog scintillating. These items are of course, in addition to, great knitting. That’s a given. In my mind, a successful knitting blog should interest, if not downright inspire, the reader to knit. In addition, a great blog, and by great I mean “way beyond good,” must also contain:
1. Superlative writing.
2. Gorgeous photography.
3. Some combination of the above.
Duh. Nothing like stating the obvious. Bear with me; putting the obvious in writing helps me process information. My brain sifts and categorizes and thinks things over in the background when I’m doing all sorts of other things. And this is what sifted to the top after a leisurely holiday weekend of knitting, hiking, knitting in the car, watching movies, knitting while watching moves, relaxing and knitting while relaxing (I got some knitting in!):
You can’t beat the Yarn Harlot for good, entertaining, knitting blog writing. Simply put, she’s the best: she’s witty, she’s interesting and she expresses the nuances of a knitting obsession so eloquently that I enjoy me more after reading her blog. What a gift! The photography isn’t bad either.
For some of the most sumptuous knitting photography on the web, there’s brooklyn tweed. His closeups of stitch patterns and stitch definition knock my socks off. And, the writing isn’t bad either — I always end up chasing down a link and learning something in the process. I will someday knit that spiral yoke pullover. I will. (Ravel it for even more inspiration.)
I know there are dozens and dozens and dozens of other wonderful knitting blogs out there. Really, I mean I know. I looked at most of them instead of working last week. At the end of the weekend these two stood out in my memory as the two I should keep in mind for inspiration. You, gentle reader, may be stuck reading this blog for a few more lifetimes until I get it right, however.
Meanwhile, here are some photos of the recently finished Sixth Sense Socks with an attempt to emulate (the sincerest form of flattery) the lovely photographs (after the first one) of brooklyn tweed.
I doubled the yarn for the bottom half of the heel and then tapered away the “double” after the garter stitch portion of the pattern. The result is a very cushy and not-too-bulky heel that should wear very nicely. Knitting good. Not great; but good. Photography needs some work. I must resolve lighting and flash issues before this blog moves up a notch.
In my effort to grab some artsy photos of Jakob, little Opal cast her magic spell once again. Sorry Jakob, that nose of yours challenges my photo skills. A first stab:
And then, a much-improved attempt, at least from a composition and lighting standpoint:
She is such a cute little shit.
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