At The End of My Yarn

“I have always loved wool — I mean really and truly loved it, like Claude Monet loved his Giverny and Julia Child loved her butter. Discovering a new wool yarn, smelling it, touching it, dreaming of what I can do with it, knitting and washing a swatch and seeing how it transforms…those things make me fill complete and fulfilled.” –Clara Parkes, from The Knitter’s Book of Wool

Do you dream of sheep? Not necessarily counting sheep to fall back asleep, but of their thick wool, gentle eyes, soft, baa-ing voices….yeah, me neither. But I wonder if Clara Parkes ever has. This lady has put some serious thought into sheep and wool.

About a third of this book is dedicated to wool; the various breeds of sheep it comes from, the way it plays with other fibers; all about staple length and crimp, for starters. She breaks the sheep breeds down into the particular characteristics of their wool, such as fineness, staples length, crimp, and luster. There are absolutely adorable illustrations of each breed, ranging from the California Variegated Mutant (really) sheep to Shetland, with other breeds like Merino and Bluefaced Leicester in between. She’s put more consideration into sheep and wool yarn than I ever have about…probably anything.

If I were a spinner I’d adore this book. As a knitter I love it. The amount of detail about staple length and crimp really lends itself to people who spend a lot of time with those fibers running between their fingers. Spinning, for some reason, is the only fiber art I’ve tried that didn’t really stick. I use my spindle to twist cords for bags. Clara writes about different other types of fiber that work well with wool to give the blend characteristics that wool itself doesn’t have, like adding silk or mohair to add luster and drape.

There are plenty of patterns included in this book, divided by fiber characteristics, wool types, and what kind of item would best suit them. For example, using a softer, machine-washable yarn for a child’s cardigan or a mostly-merino yarn for a colorwork pillow.

All in all, this strikes me as a book mainly written from a love of wool. The patterns included are handy, but the main purpose is a thorough study of the fiber and the unique qualities it holds. Clara has written two other books in this series, The Knitter’s Book of Yarn and The Knitter’s Book of Socks.

Finished a pair of Almondine socks by Anne Hanson from Sock Knitting Master Class. Funny, it wasn’t until I starting knitting my first pair of socks from that book that I found what truly separates it from all the other sock books I’ve knit from so far have…the fact that each pattern comes in multiple sizes, and those sizes aren’t simply determined by gauge (which has been known to happen…larger gauge will get you a larger garment, but I’ve found that to be slightly lazy pattern writing), but by stitch count. So, if you’re like me and your gauge is freakishly large, you can simply choose a size that fits your gauge, So I just cast on the size that called for 60 stitches, which seems to be my magic number, and ended up with a pair of socks that fit me very well, without much extra effort on my part.

The designer says in the descriptive text that the stitch pattern is easily memorized, but these socks are definitely sisters, not twins. Turns out that only knitting on them in spurts over the past few months makes you forget where you are in the pattern. Good think the yarn is kind of busy for the lace, so only I can tell that my yarn-over diagonal eyelets don’t alternate like they should. Anyone else with their face close enough to my feet to tell me I’ve messed up is in a perfect position to be kicked.

I used Studio Sock by Neighborhood Fiber Co., which is the same gloriously dyed yarn it has always been. I love the dyer’s vivid colors, even if I may hand wash these the first few times I wear them, just so nothing else gets dyed purple. Knitting on them for a while turned my righthand pointer finger blue, but that washes off, and it’s the price one pays for such stunning colorways. Knitting with this particular shade Shami is like knitting with berry-stained yarn. Every once in a while you get to a section of reddish purple that reminds me of a perfectly ripe blueberry. The base is different from the last time I knit with it, less bouncy, but it’s also been about ten years since the last time I knit with that yarn. They’ve changed their base to be totally organic. The resulting yarn is a tad splitty, though. It may behave better in crochet, which works because I had enough left over to be used in the crochet Sea Glass Tee by Wool and Pine which I had absolutely no business buying because I’m not done with the knit version yet, but I just couldn’t help myself. Haven’t cast on for it yet; I’m trying to exercise what little yarn-related self restraint I have and finish the knit version first.

Been a seriously busy month. Lot going on work-wise, and there’s a fairly big chance I’ll be moving further south in the next months to be closer to a new job. Should be able to afford a house with more yarn/books/books about yarn (er….storage) space! I was so distracted by everything changing so quickly that I forgot to show my new in-progress winter coat! It’s the Scholar’s Jacket from Knitted Jackets knit out of Valley Yarns Northampton in Merlot Heather, so the color is a little darker in real life. I knew I wanted my new winter coat to come out of Knitted Jackets, but was torn between the Edwardian Day Coat and the Scholar’s Jacket. I like the general shape of the Day Coat better, but wanted pockets. I was already to either slap a pair of patch pockets or do a fancier sort of afterthought pocket, but when the yarn came in, I realized after hours of swatching that I was never going to match the gauge of the Day Coat with the Northampton, so the Scholar’s Jacket (which has pockets incorporated into the pattern) it was. Pockets; always a good idea.

“Creative women stand behind most of the stockings I have included. Individual districts have strong, distinctive traditions. In working on this book, I have, among other things, shown how clever and industrious people were at knitting cable stockings, particularly in Telemark and Agder. The yarn is so fine and the techniques so advanced that it’s genuinely difficult to recreate them today. Other places have stockings made with the finest stripe compositions or eight-petal roses. In Numendal, the so-called byggkorn pattern was often uses — a fun but almost forgotten technique. I’ve tried to include something from each of Norway’s provinces. Some places have so much exciting work available it was difficult to choose.” — Nina Granlund Sæther, Socks from Around Norway

Socks from Around Norway, being a knitting pattern book filled with sock patterns from around Norway, does what it says on the tin, and is a colorwork fan’s dream. A large portion of the patterns are based around colorwork, with frequent use of versions of the Selbu Rose. I always thought of that general look as a Norwegian Star, picked up from any of the half-billion knitting publications I’ve read, but it’s enlightening to see what a Norwegian well-versed in knitting traditions calls the motif. There are also plenty of patterns utilizing lace and knit-purl patterns, but the majority of patterns are colorwork, which puts me in mind of traditional Scandinavian sweaters. The patterns vary in style, from socks that rise a few inches above the ankles to a pair of truly stunning lace above-the-knee stockings. The sizing is a bit limited. Some patterns that the author considers unisex come in multiple sizes, but most come in one size. Tell you what, now that I’ve been knitting a pair of Almondine from Sock Knitting Master Class I’ve come to be spoiled by the multiple sizes offered in each pattern, which means I can easily adjust for my loose gauge by casting on for whichever size calls for about 60 stitches and the socks will fit without me having to adjust the pattern.

However, what Socks from Around Norway brings to the theoretical table is a truly inspiring collection of patterns, each with fascinating historical background and inspiration. Each pattern is steeped in tradition, but not a slave to it. Considering what the author has to say about the incredibly thin yarns and intricate techniques used in the original stockings, she’s successfully distilled that knowledge and developed over 40 distinct patterns that are relevant to our lives now. I try to tell myself that I don’t need my own copy, that I’ve already got plenty of sock knitting books, but I don’t doubt I’ll eventually succumb to the call of colorwork.

Yes, I know I said I was done with commissions. And yes, apparently I lied. Sometimes I just can’t help it. A co-worker of mine asked me to knit her a hat, and I obliged. I modeled it off a blue slouchy tam-ish hat I knit about eight years ago, but went bigger and slouchier per specifications. She wanted bright pink, neon green, and black together but I found it difficult to find a yarn line that had all three colors to a degree I deemed acceptable, until I remembered KnitPicks and Palette exist. It had been about seven years or so since I had ordered from that website so I had to chuck a few skeins of Stroll Tweed into my cart. Sock yarn doesn’t count as stash, right?

Initially I wasn’t super fond of the pink I used, Rose Hip. It’s a pretty color by itself, but I didn’t think it quite hit the ‘bright’ mark, but up next to the black and slightly heathered green, it works.

No pattern, I cast on what looked like enough stitches for a wide knit-one-purl-one ribbed band, then picked up stitches all the way around and increased about sixty percent, knit for about six inches total with two-row stripes of each color, then decreased. Slowly at first, but I increased the rate so it would lie pretty flat. I used the slip-stitch method for jogless (as much as possible) stripes. I knit a full round of a color, then the last stitch on the second round (or third, fourth, depending on how wide your stripes are) is slipped so there is less of a disconnect in the stripes. Not perfect, it’s hard to see in the picture but there is a little jump in the colors, but as good as is possible with stripes in the round, and something only the knitter would notice. I did the final decreases for the crown during the gallery during Sunday’s board meeting, and blocked it that night. Fingers were crossed, because the hat I was modeling it from disappeared (eaten by the couch, probably) and I was asked to make it about twenty-five percent slouchier, but she seems pretty happy with it.