The Scarlet Knitter

Planning the next UFO intervention

I hoped to have a finished denim cardigan to show off today, but the week has been too hectic to allow me to sit down and dispatch the last two seams properly. Still, the end is in sight, which means I can start thinking about another UFO to tackle. I just foraged in the bottomless knitting basket and fished out this long-neglected item:

 

 

It is meant to be a summer polo-sweater; I designed the pattern using Sweater Wizard software, which has since disappeared from the scene. It was a wonderful tool that freed knitters to use any kind of gauge they wanted, and I haven't found anything to take its place. In fact, the sudden folding of the company is a good reminder of why I shouldn't have UFO's of long standing in the first place. Knitting pals, do yourselves a favor and finish a project while the designer is still in the business and able to reply to emails, while you are still using the same computer with the same files saved in your knitting folder, while the yarn is still available, while that color is still your favorite shade or the one that works best with your wardrobe, while you still remember what you were trying to achieve with that particular project. Feel free to remind me of this the next time you see me abandon a project midway with a lame and fishy excuse.

I knitted the body of this summertime polo sweater in this particular pattern of P3, K1, because the spaced-out ribbing worked nicely with the tweedy yarn. Said yarn is Cascade Ultra Prima in Quattro (the tweedy variety) Red. The feel of this cotton is exceptionally nice and the red is much deeper than on the photograph above.

Where I got stalled with this very plain pattern was on the sleeves; I wanted short sleeves and wasn't happy with the rate of increase that the software-produced instructions recommended. I think I spent some time re-working the pattern, and then put the whole thing aside as I heard the siren-song of another project. Now, several years later, I need to dig out the pattern and re-trace my steps. I also need to knit a front placket and a collar. This is why I am so glad that we are in 2016, since in any other year, at this stage I would be perfectly happy to return this UFO  deep into the folds of the knitting basket for another long period of neglect -- whereas in 2016, the Year of Finishing, I must, and therefore I shall

A. Find a printout of the pattern which must be in my files somewhere,

B. Figure out a pattern for the sleeves and knit them

C. Figure out a placket and collar and knit them.

The only tricky and time-consuming part about this is that most of the steps involved in finishing my UFO's don't involve knitting at all; it is the house-cleaning, computer-searching, paper-sorting side of knitting that leads me to procrastinate and cast on for something new -- a vicious circle since, if I stuck to one project at a time, I would never have the chance to lose the pattern instructions in the first place.

Meanwhile, because a knitter has got to occupy her hands in the evening when it is too dark and inconvenient to go searching for long-lost pattern files, I have produced a few more socks for the afghans For Afghans small-item drive.

 

The baby socks were knitted with reclaimed Yummy sock yarn from Miss Babs; for the child-size pair, I experimented with some Karabella Aurora 4 that was stashed a long time ago; I reinforced the heels and toes with some Zephyr lace wool/silk that I happened to have on hand and the result is incredibly cushy, almost like athletic socks. I'll try to knit a pair or two more of those in the larger sizes needed for this drive.

 

On the road to Haven

Haven is almost done. I spent a couple of evenings knitting its wide, generously-sized ribbed collar, a process that I enjoyed as this is one of the most finely-designed collars I have ever encountered. First,  radical increases occur after just a couple of rows, which creates a kind of roll, causing the knitted fabric to fan out over the shoulders very handsomely when the garment is worn. In addition, Kim Hargreaves has placed the more gradual increases that shape the collar not too close to the edge but about an inch in, tucked inside a reverse stockinette section.

 

 

I must say that the collar details were a nice touch after the rather pedestrian design of the cardigan as a whole. One of the very best knitting classes I ever took at Stitches West was a class taught by Maureen Mason-Jamieson, entitled "Collar-Obedience Training", where she covered these kinds of tricks borrowed from classic tailoring techniques at length. Since then I have often had to adapt Maureen's suggestions to patterns from books and magazines. This is the first time I don't have to do so since Ms. Hargreaves has done it so brilliantly.

As you can plainly see, the collar hasn't had its maiden journey to the washing-machine just yet, and the contrast between unfaded and faded cotton is striking, but I expect it won't show after a wash or two.

 

 

Ta-da! Two long afternoons of seaming have yielded a half-finished Haven. The sewing-up of this project is taking forever.  Remind me of this next time I consider knitting a garment in reverse stockinette. I took pains to keep the first stitch of every piece I knitted in stockinette in order to make the seaming easier later on, but apparently that wasn't enough. I would consider keeping the first 2 stitches in stockinette along the edges next time, so that mattress stitch could take place between the 1st and 2nd one and truly disappear.

As it is, mattress stitch just doesn't do its magic in reverse stockinette. The seam remains stubbornly visible, almost like a scar on the knitted fabric. Fortunately, copious amounts of heat and steam applied right after the sewing help tremendously -- another trick borrowed from sewing that has made a huge difference in my knitting life. To wit, this bit of evidence:

 

 

Close-up of sleeve cap on the ironing board: can you guess which half has been steamed and which hasn't yet? Of course you can. I love my ancient Rowenta steam iron and I hope it sees me through many more finished knits as I continue to vanquish UFO's.

 

 

Rustic Stonington

This is where committing to a year of finishing projects really pays off: when one has a very long and somewhat tedious lace edging to execute. The sheer repetitiveness is a guarantee that one will pick up any other project, or cast on for something new, rather than spend one's precious knitting hours on a task that won't be fully rewarding for days and days. There is no doubt in my mind that this project would have been allowed to gather dust for most of 2016 if I hadn't had my Monogamy Epiphany back at Stiches West.

One other thing this project had going for it was the sheer pleasure of handling this divine yarn, a nice contrast to my other steady date of the moment, cotton denim. And the bonus advantage of not requiring a thorough scrubbing off of blue dye from my hands after every knitting break.

I started this shawl last Fall, reclaiming the yarn for an other lace UFO, one that could clearly not be saved from the curse of murky pattern directions on the designer's part, resulting in utter lack of enthusiasm on my part.  Still, I had fallen head over heels for the yarn, Isager's Strik Alpaca 2, a blend of alpaca and merino which combines the advantages of both and feels a bit rustic yet perfectly soft. The weight is really closer to fingering-weight than to lace, but my older eyes and hands can't even think of handling lace on its own anymore, so a light fingering-weight yarn is ideal for my purposes these days.

 

This square shawl is big and probably best used as an afghan. It isn't fluid enough to be worn easily but I am sure it will see plenty of use once I figure who to give it to. Meanwhile I'll happily keep it around the house and pull it out for show and tell.

 

 

It's an old Elizabeth Zimmermann pattern that knits up quickly and addictively, until one reaches the edging, that is. My copy of the pattern is the one included in the old Best of Knitter's Shawls and Scarves book but I know that there are other versions out there. The typically brief directions are reasonably easy to follow: the center square is knitted diagonally, then one picks up stitches to knit the side bands and finally the edgings. EZ points out that the pattern begins, and ends, with just two stitches, with no need to cut the yarn off anywhere along the way.

 

 

I made my shawl larger than the one in the pattern by knitting a larger center diamond, which meant of course that I picked up more stitches along each side and finally that I had many more repeats of the edging to execute. Interested knitters will find all my modifications in the project notes which I just posted on Ravelry.

 

 

As you can probably tell, giving a good photographic account of this shawl is a challenge, and the photos only hint at the lovely simplicity that attracted me to the pattern. I find that I am drawn to lace that isn't too lacy, and to geometric edgings rather than scalloped ones, and this fits the bill perfectly.

 

Adventures in denim

Back in November of last year, I blogged about my slow progress with the mis-named "Haven" cardigan from Rowan's Denim People pattern book.  As much as I anticipate that the finished garment will provide all the cozy comfort implied in its name, the journey to completion has had its challenges, which I hadn't expected since I have often had easy-peasy experiences following Kim Hargreaves's patterns. But procrastination wasn't going to make any of my issues go away, so after I decided to focus on crossing UFO's off my list this year, my first order of business was to see "Haven" through. For the past few weeks, I have spent the lion's share of my knitting hours pushing through. And here's one proof:

Scrubbing the palms of both hands has become a new nighttime ritual. The denim pigment doesn't affect the couch I knit on or the clothes I am wearing, only surfaces that it rubs against, namely my palms and fingers and the wooden double-pointed needle that I have been using for the cables. I am knitting the cardigan on an Addi Lace needle which doesn't seem the worse for wear at this point.

Patterns written specifically for denim cotton yarn anticipate a significant rate of shrinking, lengthwise, which means that every part of this sweater has to be extra long to start with. This includes not just the body length but the armholes as well. Everything goes on for a loooong time before the knitter reaches, say, armhole decreases. And then there were a few dumb mistakes along the way, all my fault, not Kim H's, such as my failure to read directions and to remember to reverse the direction of the cable crossing on the second front side. I ended up with two parallel fronts instead of having one mirror the other.

 

 

I knew this would never cease to bother me, so yes, I frogged down to the very bottom cable crossing and re-knit that side. Then it was off to the sleeves.  Meanwhile, I decided to give the body pieces, front and back, their first trip to the washing-machine.  I just couldn't wait to see the denim cotton yarn do its fading magic.

 

 

For comparison: on the left, the right front of the cardi, machine-washed and dried, and shrunk to its final size. To the left, the first sleeve, finished but still unwashed and unshrunk.

Closer up, you can see the flecks of white peeking through the heavily pigmented cotton. You can also notice the shrinking in the final size of the cables on the left. The feel of the knitted fabric has changed as much as its visual appearance; it feels tighter, a bit warmer and much more substantial.

Knitting with cotton yarn is a bit hard on my wrists, which is one reason why I gave myself a couple of days' break cranking out those wool baby socks, but now I am ready to finish the second sleeve. My plan is to launder the sleeves before sewing them to the body, and then tackle the collar. I have a feeling this will be an eminently wearable garment once I am done making it, and I am reasonably confident that it won't be turning my hands blue anymore. I may even miss the nightly scrubbing.

baby socks, post-scriptum

Connie asked about the pattern I follow for baby socks, and rather than bury my reply in the comments, I thought it would be more useful to answer right here, out in the open.

I follow a very basic sock recipe, similar to the one written out by sock-knitter champ Susan Anderson here.  For an infant or baby size (up to 1 year), using sock yarn or weight-fingering yarn, I cast on 40 stitches.

A stretchy cast on is essential as babies have sensitive little legs; after hearing that my lovingly-crafted baby socks didn't fit my baby granddaughter as well as I had hoped, I researched this topic extensively (once a grad student, always a grad student) and found very little about it in the sock-knitting books and and articles which I was able to find, at least when it comes to knitting from the leg down. I tried various methods without much success. Ultimately, I settled on a method demonstrated by Ann Budd in the companion DVD to her Sock Knitting Master Class book. She recommends a standard long-tail cast on, with a gentle stretch of the barely formed stitches every 4 stitches or so. This way allows for a bit more yarn than usual in between the cast-on stitches, which in turn results in a slightly more stretchy edge.

Afterwards I proceed as for a regular, adult-size sock; if you are concerned about socks staying on (always an issue with baby feet), then a 2/2 ribbing all along the sock, possibly with a wide cuff, is a good idea. I also like a 3/1 ribbing pattern, just because it has a nice working rhythm to it, but I don't know that it stays on any better than plain stockinette.

I knit the heel cuff back and forth on 20 stitches; on some baby socks I just use regular stockinette since babies don't need a reinforced heel. It's entirely up to you. I have also seen baby socks knitted with a garter stitch heel, which looked quite attractive. I like to pick up 11 stitches after turning the heel: 10 stitches for the instep and one extra stitch just to close up any hole that might appear. I learned this from Charlene Schurch's "Sensational Knitted Socks" book, but again, it's entirely optional.

 

As to the final length of the socks, I must confess I don't have a very good system. I borrow guidelines from online patterns. The craft yarn council offers this very basic chart. The Craftsy blog has this free pattern designed for newborns .  Finally Connie mentions this pattern by Judy Ellis, which seems quite useful for our purposes.

 

If you are knitting for afghans for Afghans, I recommend not making the absolute smallest size.  It's nice to be able to ship socks that will fit a baby beyond the first month of life, and the maternity hospital in Kabul doesn't need preemie size items.  Keep in mind that the a4A volunteers work hard to pack and ship the items requested by their partner NGO in Afghanistan and that every bit of space in these shipments counts, which means that something that is too small to be of use will not be sent.  Tiny infant socks may be adorable, but I would save them for a cute gift or keepsake for a new mother of my acquaintance instead. My feeling about size is that a 40 stitch-circumference will fit a baby through the first year of life, and that all a knitter needs to do is to vary the number of rounds between instep and toes... and to remember to knit a second sock that matches the first one.

 

 

In case you're itching to knit small socks...

Afghans For Afghans has recently announced its first drive in nearly two years. The group is collecting socks, hats and mittens, to be distributed to a maternity hospital in Kabul and to street children and displaced persons who are served by the organization Trust In Education. All the details (and they matter, so make sure to read them if you are interested in participating) can be found here.

Socks and hats are needed in sizes Newborn to 1 year and child sizes 7 and up. Mittens are only needed in sizes 7 and up. Important factoids that I have gleaned from years of giving a hand in the basement where those wonderful woolen pieces of clothing land before their big journey to Afghanistan: warmth is essential, therefore, wool or a very generous percentage of wool is crucial. I suspect that dk or worsted weight socks are enthusiastically appreciated in truly cold climates. A hat with a wide brim brings double the warmth to the ears -- same for socks with a generous cuff.

That said, regular sock yarn is fine too, and drives like this one offer a perfect opportunity to use up those few grams left over from a standard skein of sock wool. It's amazing how little yarn a pair of baby socks requires, and how little time, too. I usually manage one sock per evening, casting on 40 stitches in sock or fingering-weight yarn and making sure to keep that cast-on row as stretchy as possible.

 

The pair on the left was knitted with some leftover Regia sock yarn. Afghans For Afghans requests that we provide them with socks that actually match, which is going to require a bit of cutting and pasting with patterned or striped sock yarns. After knitting this pair, although I had the yardage necessary for another pair of infant socks, I wasn't able to create another matching pair since the cutting and pasting would also force me to discard whole sections of yarn; instead, I dug up from my deep stash a solid fingering-weight wool in a coordinating colorway and knitted the center pair of socks with that, using up a bit more of the sock yarn for the toes. Life on the edge, I tell you! The pair on the right was knitted with some leftover Koigu, probably half a skein or so.

These socks were knitted in adult size, which in this case means that I cast on 64 stitches and knitted for a foot roughly 1/2 inch smaller than mine (I wear a size 8.5 shoe). I figure they will fit someone, from adolescence on. Again I took pain to create matching stripes from one sock to the next.

These two items missed the last a4A drive by a hair and I am glad to see them put to good use at last; the hat was knitted with leftover yarn from a sweater I finished last year (discontinued Rowan Scottish tweed if memory serves) and the cuff is long enough to keep someone's ears warm; and the mittens were knitted with a worsted-weight wool held together with a strand of sock wool, just because I was getting bored with that plain, not very attractive shade of tan.

As I have mentioned before, part of the appeal of these drives, beyond the feel-good sense of making something useful and warm that will bring a measure of comfort to another person, big or small, is that they motivate me to make something out of small amounts of yarn, those orphan skeins that end up cluttering our knitting baskets for months or years. There is no end of satisfaction in seeing the piles of items that just a few skeins can turn into, and in figuring out as many variations as one can even with a limited amount of yarn.

Monogamy, chapter 1

Hello, hello! Scarlet Knitter reporting for duty, here, broom in hand, ready to dust off every corner of the old blog, get rid of the spider webs that have taken over the place in the past few weeks, and bring a little sunshine in. I didn't mean to be missing in action for so long, especially since a fair amount of knitting has been taking place in the meantime.

I had been leery of resolutions in recent years; they just carry too heavy a potential for guilt, and knitting (or blogging about it) doesn't need that extra burden tacked to it. And so I embarked on this new year of knitting with no other resolution than my long-standing commitment to knit from stash first and foremost, if not exclusively.

When I paid a visit to the market at Stitches West last February, I had this one resolution in mind, so my few purchases were done carefully and judiciously. I made a bee-line for Miss Babs' booth which was packed with like-minded lovers of beautifully dyed yarns. Ordering online is all well and good, but nothing beats seeing and feeling those gorgeous skeins in the wool, and playing with various color combos. This is the one I had to bring home with me:

A very "me" combination -- mind you, the red is a deep lipstick red and not quite as bright as on this photograph. The yarn, Caroline, is a blend of merino, cashmere and nylon. Dare I say more?

After the market, I lingered at the hotel bar which was overtaken with knitters. Everyone, perched on every stool, lounging in every chair and sofa, was wielding needles or a crochet hook, and a good 85% of the patrons sported knitted shawls of every shape, color and stripe on their shoulders and around their necks. Those who didn't wear shawls had vests or socks that they didn't mind flashing at the slightest invitation. Honestly, the bar scene is a major draw of Stitches events for me -- and that's even before a full glass of something good is placed in front of me.

Chatting with strangers is another major draw in that situation. Standard pick-up line: "I love your ___  (cardi, kerchief, stole...). Where did you find the pattern?" From then it's an easy transition to the market, best booths, best finds, best classes, what's your name on Ravelry, and other intimate details of our lengthy crafty adventures. I love just about every minute of this wild party.

One of my encounters at the bar made a lasting impression. She was wearing a lovely sleeveless shell, made of entrelac fabric that she had knitted with a variegated yarn with long color repeats. The colors were summery, tweedy brights and the effect was very nice. We discussed favorite local shops and various projects, past and present. During our conversation, she mentioned that she was a monogamous knitter, and just like that, I started to feel nostalgic for the time when I, too, stuck to fewer projects at a time.

 

Back when I was a more disciplined blogger, I followed an easy system which I called the rule of 3: no more than three projects on the needles at any one time, usually an easy, automatic-pilot one, a more challenging item, and finally a swatch for a future project down the road. This system gave me just enough variety while ensuring that projects did get knitted instead of abandoned on the side of the road for an indefinite time-out. Progressively, especially with the advent of Ravelry, I started to accumulate UFO's, which has meant that bags of stuff have been allowed to congregate in what is supposed to be my neat and tidy knitting corner of the TV room. (Insert loud snort of your choice here). Bags holding not only yarn, but needles hostage, I should add.

On my drive home from Stitches, I thought again of that beautiful word, "Monogamous", and just like that, I decided to make it my 2016 resolution. I have a feeling it will still be the order of the day in 2017, but I am fine with that. In order to become monogamous, I need to refrain from casting on for (too many) new projects and to prioritize and focus on those bags of shame that have taken over my knitting space. That night, I counted two blankets, one pullover, one cardigan, one jacket, one sock, three shawls. I probably forgot another blanket or two, if I am to be absolutely honest. That's a lot of needles waiting to be liberated, a lot of belated baby gifts, a lot of bags waiting to be folded and put away.

Since that day six weeks ago, I finished a shawl:

And another shawl:

I am making good progress on a cardigan too. Lots of pictures to follow.