Knitting conundrum solved. Simply.

Simply Embracing Simplicity

Several years ago, I finally took needles and yarn in my fists and applied the lessons of my grandmothers. I learned to knit. Like many, I began with the simple scarf in stockinette stitch. I don’t know what it was, but after several false starts in previous years, this time I was hooked. Soon I was pouring over my McCall’s Needlework Treasury and teaching myself different stitches and trying new patterns. I moved on to hats, mittens, and finally socks. Last year I even successfully knit a baby sweater.

If I’m sitting still, I’m clicking away with needles. While watching movies, visiting with family and friends, in the car, and on occasion, even in the dark! I’ve taken to keeping my headlamp, normally used only for camping and backpacking, in my knitting back. Just in case. I know I’m not the only one.

I love to peruse knitting sites like ravelry.com hunting for new, more challenging patterns. Like many of you, I am not content to knit the same pattern over and over. I want more difficult projects, pushing myself to try new things, to become a better knitter.

But recently I’ve been pushing harder and the needles have been clenched in frustrated fists, yarn knotting in thick snarls. I’ve frogged (rip-it! rip-it!) more sorry socks this past few weeks than ever before. And they were not a tough pattern, either. Annoyed and uninspired to pick up projects that were only bound to cruise toward disaster, I actually watched a couple movies, and the only stitches were in my ribs! When I did pick up my needles and yarn, I only knit a few rows before putting it aside. This was not right.

Then one day a friend hinted that I’d promised him a hat. I’d been putting off this simple project for too long. Knowing I’d be seeing him soon, so I grabbed some favorite worsted-weight wool from Scarecrow Farms in mountain berry red. Perfect for the avid backpacker who would wear it.

As I cast on the familiar number of stitches, I noticed a difference right away. The tension I normally hold in my shoulders eased immediately, I got into a relaxing rhythm of knitting. It was good. I finished the hat just in time to give it to my grateful friend, who put it on right away, smiling. It looked great on him, and I loved how the pattern of simple stitches let the nuances and more subtle hues of the red wool shine through. It was good.

I will never cast aside the simple knitting pattern again. There is just as much to admire in a lovely roll-rim hat as in a cabled sock. And that is perhaps one of the greatest beauties of knitting.

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(Original post at Hudson Valley Fiber Webs)

A Cautionary Knitting Tale

Originally written for Hudson Valley Fiber Webs

SOS! SSS!

(Or, Second Sock Syndrome: A Cautionary Tale)

Many of us have been there. We start off with so much enthusiasm, revelling in luxurious yarn or challenged by a swoony new pattern, and stitch along merrily. Maybe we finish it quickly, triumphantly binding off in record time. Hurrah! Soon our needles or hooks cool and our giddy euphoria begins to ebb. And our condition becomes quite clear. Quite. This is only the first of a pair of mittens, gloves, or slippers. In my case, it’s a sock. I have (to be mumbled with all due gravity)

((( Second. Sock. Syndrome. )))

I’ve only felt the symptoms of this vile virus a couple times, normally grounding myself with regular reminders. This is the first of two. Binding off the first toe is only the halfway point. And even on my spindliest size-two needles, the socks go quickly. Both of ‘em.

But oh my, this time I’m mired in it. I started these socks for my father-in-law back in August and knitted my way through sock one with gusto. It was a simple pattern, and I used some nifty self-striping yarn in browns, I enjoyed watching the pattern come together as I knitted. Bit all the while I heard a little voice, a shrill whistle in my ear. This yarn has no give! No stretch! They will be tooooo smalllll! But I knitted on, tuning out the warnings, because after all, I’d already turned the heel. There was no going back, right? (Oh, and I might be a bit stubborn.)

So, um, that cautionary screech? She was so right. When my father-in-law tried on his stripedy sock, he could hardly fit his foot into the heel. Arrrg! Foiled! At least I didn’t cry. Instead, I cast on for a new sock, adding 10 stitches. Happily, I bought an extra skein, so I have plenty of yarn and one less thing to worry about.

So this time, all through sock two, which is really sock one, a murmuring worry rumbles as I knit and purl, increase and decrease. I just finished the gusset and am hopeful that this one will be the right size. Maybe by the end of the weekend, I’ll be starting sock three, which is really only (long sigh) sock two.

For encouragement, I promised myself that I can start knitting with my POEMS SOCK yarn when I finish these beleaguered, belated birthday socks. Ah, it occurs to me that I should also start my Christmas knitting, but I’m not sure anyone is getting socks this year.

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