A Bluestocking Knits

Kitchen Cotton Monday

Quite a lot of our dishcloths are looking a bit ratty, so I got out a bunch of the little odds and ends of kitchen cotton left over from other cloths, and whipped up some new ones.  The two on the right are just Grandmother's Favorite, while the one on the left is a Quaker Ridging cloth.

I also got out the Muriwai Bath Mat to have a go at that, for my next WIPapalooza project -- the receipt is dated "4/30/08" so that tells you how long it's been.  I couldn't tell at all how big it actually is, since it's been scrunched up on a single circular needle for five+ years, so I ran a piece of plastic trimmer string -- straight off the spool -- through the live stitches, so that I could actually spread it out and see how much more I need to do.  (It was much easier getting it back on the needle from the trimmer string than it would have been from a strand of yarn!)  I figure the mat will shrink more than a bit with washing, so say ten more rounds, and it will be done.  Of course, ten rounds is a lot by now ....

We Interrupt These Waffles for a Dishcloth --

Since finishing the yoga socks, I've been plugging away at the Blueberry Waffles and am now a ways into the foot on the first sock, but paused a few hours to whip out a house-warming gift, a set of bright dishcloths.

The pattern is the Reversible Pips Dishcloth by Hannah Maier, available free from KnitPicks, part of their "52 Weeks of Dishcloth Patterns" series. I found this new (to me?) color of Sugar 'n Cream at Michael's the other day -- "Psychedelic"!  You can always use a bit of cheerfulness when washing dishes.  Two balls of the yarn made three full-sized cloths quite easily, with a small ball left over.

The pattern works up very quickly -- the only quibble I have is that the finished cloth doesn't lie quite flat.  I actually had to block it for the photos.  I liked the designer's note that the pips give the cloth "plenty of scrubbing power" -- the psychedelic part was a bonus.

I washed them thoroughly before sending them off, since the yarn did this to my needles and fingers! -- the first time I've ever experienced this with Sugar 'n Cream.

We Now Return To Our Regularly-Scheduled Knitting

Well, it's a new year, a clean slate and a fresh start and whatnot, and as I started to clear out drawers I haven't opened since Hector was a pup, I saw the corner of something under a bag of those little balls left over from socks through the years.  "Oh my goodness, it's that Setesdal scarf!"  Right, I thought, it's time to do something about those unfinished projects still sitting around.  Yes, they have come bubbling up to the surface of my conscience with uncomfortable regularity -- it's just that until now I haven't had the nerve to publicly out myself.  So, snagging the idea from Rose Red, I am instigating my own WIP-apalooza for this year.  With a button, of course.

Nine works-in-progress to finish in twelve months -- I can do this!  Here they are, I think in order of ancient-ness ...

Setesdal-style scarf, in fine black and white wools.  I bought this wool at Super Yarn Mart, which tells you how long I've had it.  The WIP isn't quite that old, but nearly.  In my own defense, I misplaced it for quite some time, but I had set it aside in the first place because although I like knitting at a fine gauge, I had got to the "dull" lice section, and the idea of another mile and a half of it was starting to get me down.  This -- I will get my confession out of the way up front -- is by far my oldest UFO, probably twenty years, maybe 25.  Shameful -- especially because I still like it.  I'll photograph the ball band next time, for those of you who remember Super Yarn Mart with affection.

Mother-in-law socks, the Blueberry Waffles, in Shepherd Sock's "Purple Club" colorway.  I chose this pattern partly because it was touted elsewhere as being good for avoiding the pool-and-flash problem, and partly -- I admit -- because Purple Club in this pattern looks just like mashed blueberries and cream.  I got distracted by something else, can't remember now what, and put these away out of trouble, and forgot where they were.

Cousin socks in Shepherd Sock's "Pink Blossom".  I had grand plans of cables and patterned legs to make a splendid pair of knee socks, and gradually realized that all of the already-written patterns wouldn't fit M.'s shapely legs, so gradually got plainer and plainer, and more and more disappointed with the results.  If they had been for me, I wouldn't have minded -- I like vanilla, after all -- but when you've got a reputation to uphold, well.  Of course, now my reputation is as a dawdler!  Part of the trouble is that I was also beginning to suspect that I do not have enough yarn....

Garter Heel Socks, from the Vogue sock book, started in May 2009.  This is Chameleon Colorworks Bambino superwash merino/bamboo/nylon blend, in Viridian.  These didn't quite speak to me at the time, so I felt little compunction in pulling out the needles when I wanted them for something else, and here they still are.  I don't know why I felt so indifferent about them, as I like the color, and the pattern goes well with the yarn.

Klaralund, for a friend, who has either shown enormous patience or has completely forgotten I ever offered to knit her one with this yarn, which is the fabulous Noro Silk Garden #39.  I had got pretty far along with a Rosedale cardigan and decided that I looked like a blimp wearing a Noro cardy, so I frogged it and the yarn sat in the drawer for a long time until I'd made a Klaralund for myself, and thought, "hey! that stash of #39! --"

Muriwai Bath Mat, by Mel Clark in her Knit 2 Together book.  Another rather dull project, miles of garter stitch in the round.  I set this aside for two reasons, actually, one because I was knitting it at a purposely tight gauge so that it would make a thick, absorbent bath mat, and it made my hands ache if I worked on it for very long, and also because it was getting so big that I needed yet another circular needle to hold all of the stitches, and I'd already incorporated all of both mine and my mom's.  (Sorry, mom, I still have your needles!)

Selbu mittens, also -- coincidentally -- in that same Super Yarn Mart wool.  I was working on these in January 2011, I see.  Love these, but because I loved everything about them so very much -- the colors, the feel, the Norwegianness -- wanted nothing less than perfection, which because I was making it up as I went along, kept eluding me.

This is number 6 of a set of felted place mats in Araucania Nature Wool, in a funky random stripe.  Mats 1-5 have been in use on the dining-room table for some months, and I like them a lot.  I've started to run out of colors, though, so I wasn't sure if I should just carry on in the narrow-stripes manner, make them considerably wider, or just go for broke and make a solid -- I have lots of green wool left.

Yoga socks, not strictly a UFO since it's only been about a month since I started them -- but technically, yes, they are still unfinished.  This is my former Invercargill scarf, which rolled mercilessly.  I don't like the yarn that much, as it has a weird squishy feel to it, and I don't especially want acrylic on my feet -- and then I had the brilliant idea of yoga-style socks, which I could wear over regular cotton ones.  I still haven't got to the halfway point of the ball yet, and it's nearing knee-height ...

In Which We Sing the Praises of Araucania Nature Wool; Or, This Rough Magic

I ended up somehow with a drawer-full of this lovely stuff, Araucania Nature Wool, a dozen skeins or so in four colors -- the old Tall Mouse craft store in Yorba Linda used to every so often have sock yarn or something else that wasn't a novelty yarn, and I picked up one of these skeins in amazement one day, and then every few months bought another, because nobody else did, until the supply was gone.

The colors are rich and varied, as you would expect from kettle-dyed skeins, the red especially vivid.

The wool has a slightly rough softness to it, so that you know you're wearing wool but you like it.

Alas, both Tall Mouse and Nature Wool are no more.  What to do with my drawer-full of wool?  It felts beautifully, I heard, and so I decided to make placemats in a random-stripe pattern.  Here are the first two --

Thoughts on the Ostrich Plume Lace Throw

Ta-da!

This is my slightly-modified version of E.J. Slayton's Ostrich Plume Lace Throw from Vogue Knitting Baby Blankets (one of the On the Go! series), knitted in ten balls (ten!) of Rowan Calmer, started a great long time ago, I'm afraid, but finished at last and gracing my sofa already.

I had intended to make a much larger throw, but if you've read the saga you will know that I was nearly heartily sick of the thing; perhaps time heals all, as I'm very happy with it now that it's done!  It is about 40 x 37 inches (say 101 x 94 cm) give or take, as it is quite stretchy from both the lace and the springiness of the Calmer, and it has not been blocked.  Now that I look at the photos closely, I wonder if I should have worked it on a size larger needles, but on the other hand the stretchiness might solve that for me.

I didn't like the fact that the top edge of the lace didn't match the bottom edge, due to the fact that that while the bottom starts off with the pattern row, the top finishes with the "plain" Row 2 and a decrease row (which is added to help the top scallop the same way the bottom does).

Instead of the dec row, I worked the patt row (Row 1) but did not put the yo in the small cable-like sections -- this brought the stitch count down to where it would have been after the dec row -- and then I worked the 8 rows of garter st.  If I'd been willing to rip out the top border a third time, I would have slipped in a K2tog at each of those spots in the first garter row, as it still doesn't scallop quite as much as I'd like.  But the eyelets in the plume section are closer to the garter border now, and the passed-over bar across the cable-like section also match the bottom edge more closely.

That said, I love this lace pattern -- it really speaks to me, for some reason.  Mostly the plume-like bits, I think.  I worked 11 repeats instead of the 9 in the original number of sts, and carried on until I'd more-or-less run out of yarn at the end of the tenth ball.  (I might have gotten another repeat out of the last ball if I'd been willing to gamble!)

This color of Calmer is "Chiffon" -- alas, discontinued. 

Now I need only some cooler weather -- already have plenty of good books waiting!

Hot Enough For You?

Remember this?

Ah, well, it's been a long time.  I'd forgotten about it, too, until I tripped over the bag the other day, on my way to open up yet another window to try and get some cool air into the house, and saw that the thing was actually not too far from a good stopping place.  It's really too hot to knit much just now, but I was so close that I sat this afternoon with a fan blowing on my hands to finish the last few inches.  Proper photos and a wrap-up to come.

In Nature News, we've got a pair of sharp-shinned hawks living in our big pine tree in the backyard.  They are both juveniles, my cousin-the-zoo-vet tells me, so their colors will change as they mature.  Nest-mates, I'm guessing, since they are both juveniles and about the same size.  Very chatty, too, like teenagers, "kew-kew" all morning and afternoon.

There are still a few open areas in our town, but we are, to be honest, deep in suburbia, which makes the hawks all the more fascinating.

So I think I'm going to read for a while, instead of knitting.  It was 80° F (26 C) when we lugged our dinner outside at 6:30 -- just not knitting weather.  I don't know what made me think of it -- perhaps putting Ellis Peters on my mental list of authors I'd like one more book from -- but I've gotten it into my head to read all of her wonderful Brother Cadfael mysteries again.  And the "Blackadder" font I found a while back was too good to pass up, so here's a button, just for fun --

Thoughts on Christmas Fiddle-Faddle

These little things are pretty clever.  You take a bit of knitting, fold it in half,

and you've got a knitted Christmas ornament -- or decoration, gift tag, whatever!

I'm not much of a person for fiddle-faddle, to be honest (yes, I'm passing on the angel), but even as these little things were coming together -- in well under an hour apiece, less if I hadn't stopped to take photos -- I found myself thinking of variations, the endless possibilities.  Colors! textures! variegated wools, or stripes! bigger, even ... a dishcloth!

The star obviously requires some firm blocking, but it is definitely a star -- and can be made with pretty much as many points as you like.  I did this one on 65 stitches, instead of the 55 in the basic version.  (I think that the Old Norwegian cast-on was the best choice for these, being almost-reversible and blending in well with the garter stitch.)

She's not kidding about the "knitted firmly" part -- even though it can get a bit tough towards the end, especially on the star, you need the body for the piece to hold its shape after blocking.  Finer wools could of course be doubled.

I see no reason why beads couldn't be added, either.  This would be a great project for those Christmas fund-raisers, as a dozen or so could be turned out in a weekend, for next to nothing (now, so it doesn't take up valuable December time) -- and use up scraps in the process.  How about all of those golf-ball-sized bits left over from socks?

Knitting the "Knitter's Almanac": Christmas Fiddle-Faddle

The August chapter of the Knitter's Almanac describes some "fiddle-faddle" that Elizabeth came up with while camping, Christmas ornaments "based on the principle that knitting will hump itself up when it is consistently decreased at the same spot."

This will, in fact, be a knitted Christmas tree!  All of this chapter's projects -- a tree, a star, and an angel -- are indeed small and portable enough to take on an outing, whether camping or merely picnicking.  Very economical, too -- bits and bobs of wool left over from another project, just about anything, really, because who says that your Christmas tree has to be green?!

"The more you do a thing, the more ways you find of doing it -- if you keep an open mind, that is.  Quite often the new ways are improvements."  Elizabeth found that the usual slip-knot at the beginning of a cast-on was just niggly enough for her to look for a different way of doing it: "Simply lay the wool over the righthand needle where it will form the first stitch.  Grasp the wool-ends with the left hand, spread thumb and forefinger between them, and proceed as usual.  The knot is done away with and the join much neater."  A while ago, not long after I started using the long-tail cast-on instead of the cable cast-on I'd used for years, I modified this to something that was a bit easier for me to work with: make a U-shape at the point where the tail end is long enough, hold this in your left hand, stick the needle down through the loop, and twist the end of the needle upwards.  This will cross the yarn around the needle, holding it firmly enough to start the cast-on stitches.

And a nice little bit of August, for these last few days of summer before school starts next week: "Last night, the moon -- three-quarters full -- reflected herself in the water behind the triple twisted cedar as in a Japanese print.  This morning, the print has changed; all the further shores have disappeared, the sun is seen only as a pale radiance, and sky and water have merged and mingled.  Tall rushes next to the fireplace mirror themselves unwaveringly in the glassy lake, making one perfect circle, some pointed eggs, and some funny triangles.  Slowly, to the scent of coffee, the radiance turns to a silver sun doubled by its own reflection, and the opposite shore appears through the haze.  Clearly, another perfect day is coming up."

Thoughts on the Difficult Sweater (Not Really, It's a Hot Water Bottle Cover)

We've been a bit preoccupied around here lately, due to the generosity of schoolchildren in the area sharing the stomach flu among their classmates!  Julia's had the worst of it, poor lamb, and is still not well after most of the week, but at least she actually wants to eat, today.  (By the way, grape-flavored Pedialyte stains.)  I sat with Julia after lunch today and watched "Sesame Street" while I darned in the ends of my March "Knitter's Almanac" project, which in more ambitious hands would have been a Difficult Sweater (Not Really), also known as a Chainmail or Trellis sweater, but for me is a tidy little hot water bottle cover.

(The wools were all unlabeled, except for the light gray, which was a fairly ancient Chat Botté -- some of the others may have been Anny Blatt, but I can't say for certain.  The piece is approximately 7.5 in./19 cm by 11 in./28 cm, and about 28 sts per 4 in./10 cm, blocked to fit.)

Here is a close-up of the Trellis stitch --

Like apparently many other knitters (some of whom commented here at the beginning of the month), I did not find this pattern particularly appealing at first.  I will say now, though, that color choice can make the world of difference.  I don't love it yet, but I don't hate it, at least!

You can also see here the difference between plain stockinette with color changes and purl-when-you-can (or purl on the first row of a new color).  The plain parts, "inside" the trellises, are quite straightforward, and the parts "outside" are livelier, more subtly so when the colors are similar in tone, and more obviously when there is more of a contrast, such as here where the gray makes a distinct fleck against the blue or the lavendar.

I did realize after the second pattern repeat that I should have had fewer color changes at the "busy" part of it, where the twists and the smaller oval are -- so many purls there make it harder to see the shifts of the trellis.  I would recommend color bands of at least three rows at that point, instead of the two that I used, to make the twists stand out.

As for shaping, I made my life a lot easier by simply knitting a tube as the Trellis pattern dictated, and did not attempt to shape it to my hot water bottle.  (To be honest, I didn't swatch -- this was my swatch -- so I had no idea of how big it was going to be.  I did start it over after the first inch, when it was obviously going to be too small to go around, but other than that it was just a good guess.)  I'd thought that when sewing up I would leave a little slit at the bottom, because the bottle has a tab there for hanging, but since I knitted four repeats of the Trellis (for looks), the piece was quite long enough to cover the whole thing.  I added plain white shanked buttons and crochet chain loops at the shoulders, and there you have it!

Knitting the "Knitter's Almanac": Difficult Sweater (Not Really)

I really did mean to do every project in this book.  It seems a bit of a swiz to say that I'm going to work my way through the Knitter's Almanac, and then skip a project early on -- although Elizabeth herself would probably tell me, gently but firmly, not to be an idiot and knit something that I have no use for!  But it's March, and the project for this month is a sweater, and instead of Bleak Midwinter or anything even remotely along those lines, here where I live it is sunny and 70° F/21° C -- or at the least 60°/15° -- as it has been since before Christmas.

Sigh.

I Googled the "Chainmail Sweater," to see if I could find any inspiration, and at Knitty.com was "Knitting for Maniacs" by Julie Theaker, an heir to Elizabeth's philosophies if I ever saw one.  She includes in her article a photo of her Chainmail Sweater, Elizabeth's other name for this month's Almanac project, and it's incredible.  I'm very impressed -- the photos in the Almanac are rather sedate, really, and Julie's is an eye-popping mix of blue lines against a shifting background of pinks, reds, and oranges.  She also steeked it into a cardigan.  While I don't think I would ever be bold enough to choose this color scheme, it's certainly a fabulous piece of work.

But, no, this one still doesn't do much for me.  I was tempted to do another EZ pattern as a compromise, perhaps one of the lovely 3&1 sweaters in Knitting Around (there is one at the lower left on the cover), but that didn't seem quite right, somehow.  I thought I should just make a swatch, at any rate.  Elizabeth sounded very pleased with herself for coming up with the trellis pattern of this month's sweater -- and rightfully so, as she managed to overcome that rather herky-jerky shift of colors that comes with colored diagonals in knitting, in that a stitch has to (well, usually) go up and over a stitch to make a diagonal.  She decided to use K2togs and SSKs with our old friend from January, the Left Twist, to make a vertical line that actually flows -- very clever.  "Shall we make a colored Travelling-Stitch on a differently-colored background?  We shall"!  So I dug around in the stash and came up with four balls of wool that were fairly pleasing together, and of a similar weight, to give it a try, but all of this improvisation was making me nervous, so I drew up a homemade chart and tried out a few schemes with colored pencils before casting on.

The photo in the book, I'll admit, is not very inspiring, due I suspect mostly to its being black-and-white.  Funny, how spoiled we've gotten with color photos in knitting books!  The pattern is more interesting in color, even as it comes off of one's needles.

It is also good practice for that Bohus pullover I keep dreaming of, using the Bohus technique of purling on the first row of a new color.  It makes a kind of optical illusion with the colors, pulling a little dash of color from the previous row into the different color of the new one.

(Elizabeth also mentions keeping a record of one's knitting projects, something I've been pondering for a while, but am a bit indecisive about the format.  Does anyone keep a knitting journal that they would be willing to show-and-tell?  Leave a comment here --)

But what will this swatch turn out to be?  Ah --