A Bluestocking Knits

This and That --

We had a booth sale the other day, and I managed to get a good way down the leg of a Welsh Country Stocking -- this is is Paton's Kroy, a bit heavier than the original wool, so I've had to adjust the stitch counts considerably.

But other than this I haven't done much knitting, still absorbed in Swedish church-books.  Found this the other day, which amused me greatly --

Imagine the ruckus when papa found out that little Stina had been looking for a piece of paper and decided to make do with one of those old books in the vestry....

And in bookish news, I haven't seen "War Horse" yet, but came across this charming little video in which three of the actors talk about the book and their childhood reading -- that Tom Hiddleston was rather precocious, it seems!

Read Any Good Church-Books Lately?

I haven't been knitting much lately, because I admit I've been distracted by my recent discovery of the Danish church-books to be found online at Statens Arkiver.  Even if you are not much interested genealogy, you can probably understand the fascination of something like the page above -- which is a beautiful thing in itself, and all the more when it is one's own ancestors (even if only by marriage).  The Danes, bless their record-keeping hearts, required local ministers to keep track of births, marriages, and deaths from quite early on, the late 1600s in some parishes, and later they also recorded movements to and from the parish and of smallpox vaccinations (which were in fact not only sensible, but a requirement for getting married).  This is of course a genealogical treasure-trove.  A birth record such as the one above gives not only the date and name, but the parents' names and residence, the age of the mother, and the names and residence of the baptismal sponsors, who were often relatives as well -- so that it is often only a matter of following the trail back to the previous generation, and on.  Quite satisfying.

Of course, it isn't always as simple as that.  After 1814, they had printed books to fill out, so that things are arranged quite tidily, but before that it was up to the individual priest, and instead of something as clear as the above record, readable even if you know little Danish, you get ones like this, from the early 1800s --

-- which takes a little more work.  It's funny, though, that since starting this post a week or so ago and thinking of how much time it took me to decipher the above page, it looks a walk in the park to me now, compared to this one from 1777 --

So, well, no, I haven't been knitting much.  But I did manage to finish these socks, plain ones with a Dutch heel and round toe, in the Deborah Norville Serenity Sock yarn in the Violas color.  I won't say how long ago I started them, but it's been a while.  This yarn feels a little different from the Acquamarine pair from a year or so ago, a bit sturdier, soft but less squishy.  I do like this color, too.

And here is something I found in a church-book that amused me, one of those little non-genealogical gems that you get every so often --

A Pair of Clocked Stockings, ca.1650-1750

Pair of clocked stockings
1650–1750, European; 19 x 52 cm (7 1/2 x 20 1/2 in.)
Knitted silk, embroidered with silk yarns. Embroidered clocks of straw-colored silk yarns in decorative motif. Knitted rose silk ground, thirteen yellow stripes at top, polychrome sole.
The Elizabeth Day McCormick Collection, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Crocuses, Camo, and a Couple of Heels

Poring over my copy of Nancy Bush's Folk Socks of an evening -- as one does -- I thought that I would do some "school socks", fairly simple socks that use these different heels and toes.

First, a pair in Loops & Threads Luxury Sock in the "Crocuses" color, with a Dutch heel and star toe.

 
The first pair is in the new Luxury Sock yarn from Michael's.  It is very soft, rather limp with the bit of cashmere, but pleasant to knit with.  There was a partial splice in the first ball, insignificant enough that I could winkle the ends back into the twist.  The second ball, though, had an actual knot in it, towards the bottom of the leg, and then this --

I was going along swimmingly, very pleased with myself that I'd matched the color changes perfectly, when near the end of the heel flap I realized that I'd been knitting with white for nearly an arm's-length of yarn.  Not only was the blue-and-white section incomplete color-wise, it was shortened by nearly half.  The photo is slightly misleading, as I didn't notice that Laura had pulled the second sock higher, but you can see quite clearly that the blue-and-white band is only half the depth it should be.  (The colors are a bit brown in this photo: what looks like brick is more of a dusty rose in real life.)

So I ripped back the heel and whacked off an entire color repeat to get back to the right spot, and carried on.  When I got to the end of the second toe, I looked at the finished sock, and lo and behold the repeats were off again.  Now this may have been my fault, as in comparing the two socks I notice that the second is noticeably narrower, and even slightly shorter!  (This is an instance of where knitting two socks at the same time would be a good idea, as apparently my gauge on the second sock was considerably tighter.)

So I ripped out half of the foot,  back to the start of the next-to-last blue-and-white band, and worked it again v-e-r-y l-o-o-s-e-l-y, counting the rows in each band to make sure that the second sock was exactly the same row count and color match as the first one.

This is how much was left over from the middle of the second ball:

The top bit is due to pulling off a length in order to start at the same spot in the color sequence; the bottom (5 grams!) is due to the defect.  Perhaps this is why there is a good 15g more in each ball than you need for a generously-sized pair of socks?

 

As I said, it's a pleasant yarn, although while inexpensive, at $5.99 it isn't what I'd call cheap, and so I would expect a little more than knots and color flaws in it.

The Dutch heel is quite simple, and Bush's instructions worked like a charm.  I did the heel flap in a sl 1, K1 fabric, and kept this through the heel turn, which was quite easily done and I'm told will make the heel that much sturdier.  (In the photo just above, the sl-st section continues along through the purple section downwards from the flap, and into the first part of the blue-and-white section.)  The cashmere content seems to make the yarn feel a little fragile, so I'm hoping that the extra thickness here will counteract that.  The heel itself is a bit more square than the heel I usually use -- which is in fact called a round heel -- but this isn't really obvious once it is on my foot.

The star toe is also quite simple, and fits my squared-off toes nicely.  (I don't know why there is a little jog in the decreases line in the purple section there...?)  This toe is especially easy if you use 5 dpns, as the decreases are spaced a quarter of the way along each round, and will thus come at the end of each needle without having to resort to markers or counting in the first round.

Laura modelled both of these socks for me this afternoon.  She pulled on the Kroy pair first, and said, "Mom, there's something wrong with the heel."  The Luxury ones, she is still wearing an hour later, despite the heat wave.  (This is saying something, even more than you'd think, as she has declined politely to wear knitted socks at all for at least a year.)

The second pair are in Paton's Kroy FX in "Camo Colors", with a German heel and wedge toe.

I don't like this wool much at all, as it is very scratchy even after washing, although I don't notice it quite so much when wearing as I did while knitting with it.  (I shall be generous and call it "bargain wool", as it is about half the price of the Luxury Sock.)  It is, however, thick and quite warm. I might have better used 2.5mm needles, as the fabric is a bit stiff.

The German heel is also fairly simple, and went together easily with Bush's instructions -- so far my Becher's Brook is the Welsh one, it seems.  I did a plain flap with no reinforcement -- I think this wool will wear like iron anyway (she said grimly).

Both the Dutch and the German heels are essentially a square and a small rectangle, the sides of which rectangle (the turn) are joined to one side of the square (the flap).  This is noticeably different from the round heel, which is a square (the flap) with a triangle (the turn).  This construction makes both of these heels more squared-off than the round heel, and a good choice, I would think, especially for those wearers whose heel sits low to the ground.

The German heel doesn't allow for much of a gusset, though, at least not at this gauge -- there were only 2 extra stitches after picking up! -- and so I did not work the decreases as P2tog as in Bush's versions, since it looked more like a mistake than a line of purl decreases.  To get a teeny bit of length, though, I did work 2 plain rounds before the decrease round, and another 2 plain between the second (last) dec round.

The heel itself, though, is exactly as written by Bush.  It is very square in shape, and the angle of heel to foot is much sharper than with the round heel.  This is quite noticeable in the feel of the sock, especially compared with the much more subtle round heel.  (You can see in the picture of the socks laid flat, how much more square it is.)  I was looking for a difference when I put it on, of course, but even Laura noticed it right away.  It isn't bad, mind, only not quite as fitted as some; this could be adapted a little by making the turn a few stitches narrower, perhaps, or working it in a softer wool that molds more readily to the foot inside, or at a finer gauge altogether.

This toe is a wedge toe.  I did one of Bush's variations, which proved to be too pointed for my substantial feet, and so I pulled it out and used my standard wedge, lifted from Grumperina's "Jaywalkers".

And there are still four more heels in Bush's book!

Testing, Testing --

"Luxury Sock" in the Crocuses colorway, from the new Loops & Threads line of yarns from Michaels.  Has anyone tried it?  It's either so new that it isn't on the website yet, or they are being really quiet about it.  The URL on the ballband leads to a page that is spectacularly uninformative.

This sock yarn is a 60% merino superwash, 30% nylon, 10% cashmere blend -- very fine, very soft.  I was rather dismayed to read the fine print when I got it home, that says "hand wash only", as I am really not into handwashing socks -- I had assumed from the superwash and nylon content that it would be machine-washable.

The ballband gauge is 32 sts on 2.75mm/US2 -- I am getting that but on 2mm needles (I generally have to go down one size needles, though).

This was the most sedate colorway, by the way!  And no solids...

Thoughts on Some "Elizabethan" Stockings

This is the first part of my planned Renaissance Faire clothing.  I say "Elizabethan" as there is apparently no evidence that hand-knitted stockings were worn quite so early as that in England, although I'm still waffling about their period authenticity.  Up to the Elizabethan era at least, stockings and hose were commonly sewn from bias-cut fabric, a long and elaborately-shaped piece with a separate sole -- one can only imagine the suprise when putting on a knitted one for the first time! like wearing leggings after years of wearing jeans.

One of the earliest known pairs of knitted stockings in Europe are part of Eleanora of Toledo's burial garments from 1562 (here is someone's pattern for them):

I have not done any serious research on Eleanora's stockings, so cannot be taken as an expert by any means, but I have to wonder if they were either simply not taking advantage of the stretchability of knitting at this point, or were so taken by the possibilities of patterned stitches that these were made rather larger than modern stockings would be.  There is no record, of course, as to the size of Eleanora's calves, but the proportions look a little off to me.

The earliest known pattern for knitted stockings is from a book called Natura Exenterata -- "Nature unbowelled", that is, with all of her secrets spilled, as it were -- from 1655.

(This copy is from the Folger Library)  It is a book mostly of physicking, with shorter sections on household practices from horse-breeding to distilling, making perfumes, and so on, including how "To Dye divers kinds of Colours" which I found rather interesting -- things like "To dye Popingay Greene.  Take penny-hew and put it to Chamberlye or good Boockley, and seeth it and put it in the yeallow Yarne, and let it seeth, the longer it seetheth the deeper the colour will be."  "Popinjay" is the old word for parrot, so I can only assume some sort of parrot-y green -- chamberlye is, yes, urine from the chamber-pots, which apparently acts as a cleansing agent on the wool, removing oils and dirt, and it also apparently works in combination with the other dyestuff as both a pigment and a fixative. 

Anyway --

The "knitting" bits in Exenterata can be found online at this University of Arizona page, under "Monographs" -- I say "knitting" because there are only twenty pages included there and then only three actually related to "the order how to knit a hose", the rest being the dye recipes and a long section of netting patterns and another of lacework.  (I get a kick out of one of the patterns, as the author says after every step that you should have x number of stitches "provided alwayes, if your work go true", that is, if you've done it right.  I can't tell if that inspires confidence or not.)

There are quite a variety of opinions around as to whether or not knitted stockings, despite the difference between dates of Eleanora's obviously expertly-knitted stockings and the Exenterata pattern, are really "period" when talking about Elizabethan costuming.  The Exenterata pattern gives instruction on shaping the calf and turning the heel, but stops at the toe, making me think that this must have been common knowledge by 1655, enough that it wasn't thought necessary to include that part, and the novelty, if any, is in the heel and foot.  Actually, I think you could find opinions these days for either date, even among the really dedicated SCA folks, but I am willing to be corrected, my philosophy being, as someone once said, "To stonde alwaies stiff and obstinate in one opinion is rather Vice than Vertue".

For mine, I was really just making it up as I went along, according to my brief and limited research.  Ribbing was not known until quite some time later, so the top of a stocking was a simple one of garter stitch, or perhaps a fancier cuff like Eleanor's, to be folded over or not as the case may be.  The stockings were held up with separate garters, either a knitted strip of garter stitch (hence the name), a piece of fabric, or a woven strip such as from tablet-weaving.  Knitted stockings were made to imitate the sewn ones by including a "seam" down the back -- I used a simple one-stitch purled line, but apparently a wider version can be found. 

The yarn is two lovely skeins of Shepherd Sock in Natural, a delight to work with, and the pattern is custom-fitted with help from the Arachne Sock Calculator. 

I think that the only thing I would do differently is to move the center of the clock towards the back by 2 stitches, so that it lines up with the edge of the heel flap.  If I'd thought about it more thoroughly, I probably would have realized that the center of the side is two stitches towards the instep, and not in line with the gusset decreases.  (Smacks forehead.)

The heel is the "common shaped heel" from Nancy Bush's Folk Socks book, which is I think essentially the same as the Exenterata one.  The only modification I made from Bush's version was to not cut the yarn but simply use a three-needle bind-off instead of grafting the bottom-of-the-heel stitches.  Yes, I know, I thought "a bind-off on the bottom of the foot!" too, but I was going more for historical accuracy, as grafting apparently wasn't known for quite some years more, and as it happens, at this gauge and for so short a length as this, I can't feel it at all.

This is how the heel looks in progress from the inside -- the line of knit stitches is the "seam", then the three-needle bind-off goes on up to where the needles meet --

I used the round toe -- it seems that a wedge toe was more commonly used in early hand-knitted stockings, with a three-needle bind-off, but that seam, I think, you would feel more easily than one at the bottom of your heel, and so the second-earliest option won out.

And so -- as far as a Faire gown is concerned anyway, I've had my fling with knitting -- on to sewing!

More Mish-Mash

This is another mish-mash post, all of the little bits and bobs that separately don't make up much of a post!

I finished knitting the Hug-Me-Tight a month and a half or so ago, and sewed it all together -- unfortunately the result is a resounding "meh".  Am not really sure if I simply made it too big (this is the larger size) or if the drape of the Cashsoft is too lazy to show it off much, or if blocking would help -- but it resides on the top of the end table still.

It looks even worse on me than it does on Laura.  Not sure yet whether or not I'm going to rip it out or block it and hope for the best -- I'm inclining towards the former, as I suspect that the Cashsoft won't block much.  The larger border is curling I think because it is basically a circle, so that the outer edge is simply stretched too far.  It may just be a matter of the wrong yarn for the project.  Sigh.

Also on the needles are an Elizabethan-of-sorts stocking, and a generic sock in Paton's Kroy "Camo Colors" -- huge gauge, it seems! so it's working up gratifyingly quickly as I pass the time during various dentist appointments and piano lessons.

Last week I went to Michael's for a piece of embroidery fabric, and started a blackwork sampler.  I was so amazed that my local public library actually had two books on blackwork (three, really, although apparently one is missing, as my request for it is still hanging in the ether somewhere), that, really, I could hardly not.

I first worked a simple all-over pattern from Rosemary Drysdale's The Art of Blackwork Embroidery (Scribner, 1975), and then jumped in to the two patterns from Jane Pemberton's smock, charted here by Kirrily Robert, aka "Lady Katherine Rowberd" of the SCA.  Here is the original Holbein miniature again -- this picture isn't as detailed as the one I posted before, but I love the little pearls (or water sapphires?) on the frame, which isn't included in most of the images of the miniature:

Wikipedia reports that her name was Jane Pemberton, later Jane Small, daughter of a Northamptonshire gentleman and later wife of a London cloth merchant, and dates the miniature to around 1540.

And just because I get such a kick out of it, here is the back of the miniature:

These two blackwork patterns are worked mostly in Holbein (or "double running") stitch.

I made a slight modification to the collar pattern as given by Rowberd in that I eliminated the little bar across the end of the Celtic-like ribbonwork between the diamonds -- I thought this made the ribbonwork a little more obvious.  It made the set-up more difficult, in that I couldn't simply work the main diagonals straight across but had to count out where to leave off those stitches.  This picture is how the diagonals look before working the fiddly bits:

I still haven't figured out the "right" way to do blackwork -- if there is only one -- I found another photo of this pattern in progress by someone who worked each section separately.  There is much to be said for that method, as it isn't nearly so nerve-wracking wondering if you've left enough room or counted correctly.  (In fact, you can see in the above photo where I assumed that the diagonal I was working would "bounce"off of the top margin, and I had to pick it out.)  If you get the set-up right, though, it is usually progressively easier to work each element, because you can see where each one sits, as well as how it fits in with the previous elements.

This, by the way, is worked on 28-count Monaco cotton with one strand of black floss, over two threads per square of the chart.  Ragnvaeig's scarlet piece is obviously worked with at least two strands, and is therefore much denser, but I think that color on white linen is just gorgeous.

Here is mine with some of the ribbonwork completed and one on the third of its four passes:

I'm not sure yet if the wobbliness of the lines is due to my amateurishness, or just the nature of the thing, that sometimes the thread gets crowded in the hole of the fabric and sits differently. Luckily, from a distance, you can hardly tell....

And here are the finished collar and cuff patterns:

I actually don't like the cuff pattern much (it looks a bit choppy, I guess), and upon reflection would probably work a line of the ribbonwork on its own for the cuff.  Rowberd details her re-creation of Mistress Pemberton's smock here -- alas, though, without a photo of the finished garment.

And for those who are tired of blackwork, a paper crane that Julia folded one afternoon, to my astonishment and delight --

Thoughts on the Classic Socks

This is the Classic Sock from Melissa Morgan-Oakes' 2-at-a-time Socks, in Trekking XXL.  Started it ages ago, I'm afraid, fully a year at least, probably more -- was going to do a toe-up, thinking pessimistically that I didn't know how far one ball would go for David's manly feet, but when I discovered that the reason he wasn't wearing the first pair of socks I'd knitted for him was because he was afraid of wearing them out, I thought "poor man!" and resolved to finish this pair immediately.

I've misplaced the ball band but this is probably 327 Dark Greens and Blues, a handsome combination -- not David's usual colors, but I figured that if he didn't like it, I certainly would.  The camera doesn't seem to like this color combination as much as I do -- it looks a bit dusty in this photo.

The pattern is a fairly straightforward sock with a K1, P1 rib at the cuff and K3, P1 on the leg and foot, with a slip-stitch heel flap and a standard toe.  I didn't work it two-at-a-time, mainly because I really have no problem with "second-sock syndrome" and felt somehow, I suppose, that the method is more goal-oriented, as it were, than process-oriented, and while I do like having a pair of finished socks, I also simply like the time spent knitting them, so that this is a method that I don't really have an incentive as yet to try.

I have heard, of course, of the problems with the book itself, and experienced a bit of that myself with the Coquette socks a while back.  With this pair, I cast on for the men's large size at 96 sts and found after a few inches that it was absolutely enormous.  I ripped it out and whacked off a chunk of the stitch count -- still too big -- ended up using 68, and even that is still on the roomy side.  The gauge given in the book is 9 1/2 sts per inch with XXL, whereas mine is seven to 7 1/2.  Knitter beware.

The first sock weighed 52 g, so because I was still a bit concerned about not having enough yarn to finish, I did not cut the yarn at the end of the first sock, but put all of the sts on a holder before grafting the toe, and made the second sock from the other end of the yarn.  The XXL did not like being a center-pull ball, by the way.  I did have enough to spare, though, so that worked out all right.

Two new sock projects on the needles already -- a pair for my mother-in-law, and an "Elizabethan stocking" as part one of my Renaissance Faire costume-to-be ....

Thoughts on the 1810 Socks

These are the Lichen Socks from Nancy Bush's Knitting Vintage Socks, modified a bit because my gauge was apparently huge compared to the original wool -- I blithely cast on 60 sts as per the instructions, and could have fit both of my feet in it.  I ended up starting with 48!

The yarn is Trekking 6-fach in color 1810, mostly purples with hints of blue and grey.  I still can't seem to get the color right in the close-ups with my camera -- this is the photo from Skacel --

Luckily the rib was really simple, and went at a terrific clip at this gauge, as the Welsh heel is still, I find, very fiddly, and the Star Toe of Three Points also, although that was most likely because I had to adjust them to my drastically-smaller stitch count.

The toe is not particularly comfortable, I find, as it is quite easy to feel the purl bumps at the decreases, like a lump under one's toes -- although, I must say, the lumpiness of the Welsh heel all but disappeared with the first wash, so maybe the toe bumps will too.

I still didn't get the Welsh heel quite right, I think (I've used it once before, on my Conwy socks).  The first one went along nicely, but the second one for some reason gave me much grief, and after six or eight attempts I just said "the heck with it," and left it the way it was.  Can't tell now, though!

The socks are very warm.  They also softened up quite a lot in the first (machine) wash -- almost alarmingly so when they were damp, but they firmed up a bit as they dried.  And there was over 50g left, so I forsee a pair of fingerless mitts before next winter.

The model is, in fact, Laura, who at age eleven has feet the same size as mine!

Thoughts on the Ribbed Scarf with a Crocheted Edging

Here is the Ribbed Scarf with a Crocheted Edging, a free pattern from Ann Budd, in Malabrigo sock yarn in "Abril".  Very nice to knit with -- took forever, it seemed, on 2mm needles.

The end of the skein was much bluer than the beginning, you can see!  I notice that my Abril is much different from the one on the Malabrigo site, but then I didn't quite manage to capture the color accurately with my camera, either -- it's more purple, generally, although it does seem to change subtly in different lights.

The Malabrigo isn't quite as wonderfully soft knitted up as it is in the skein, but to be honest, I haven't washed it yet, so it might loosen up a little, or have been softer worked on a slightly larger needle.  Still, the color is so gorgeous I can't really fault it!

It's a nice pattern -- the main pattern is quite simple and easy to memorize.  The little scallops at the bottom are really the only crochet; the other part is a variation on the main pattern, with the yarn-overs making it a little lacier and causing it to spread prettily. 

I did a lot of fiddling at the beginning -- since the crochet edging is done afterwards, I worked up a sample on a crocheted chain, to find out how much yarn it would use up, then knitted the border and went back and added the crochet.  Then I weighed the complete border, worked the body of the scarf until I had a ball left of the same weight, and worked the second border and the crochet edging.  It didn't quite work as perfectly as it should have, and I had to rip it out twice and go back, but in the end I wasted very little, and got a 55 1/2 x 3 1/2 inch (141 x 9 cm) scarf.

In other knitting news, a pair of simple father-in-law socks for Christmas, in Meilenweit MegaBoots Stretch, color 504:

 

and two projects going on at the same time for the New Year: some mindless knitting -- a simple stockinette sock with the Serenity sock-weight yarn from Deborah Norville -- and some, erm, brain-full knitting, a Selbu mitten cobbled together from a couple of patterns in the Terri Shea book.  The mitten will actually be a re-start, since I decided that the thumb gusset on the one in the photo was far too short.

So, yes, well, although I haven't been blogging much, I'm still knitting!