It's too hot for all this

Expected high today of 34C. Not as hot as last week (36C), but the humidity is higher. My poor G5 is already roaring gently as the fans strain to cool it after a bout of graphics work. There's so much to do! I'm off work next week, so of course three clients are *demanding* I get drafts to them before I stop... I've pointed out as tactfully as possible that two of them delayed getting resources to me earlier this year, so why do they expect me to sweat blood for them in this heat? The third, gah, the third deserves his. I'm doing my best. In addition to baking bread for a friend's party this evening ("In this heat? You're mad" he said). Making lists of stuff I have to do before I leave, stuff I have to take, stuff I want to buy, printing maps to find places in cities I haven't visited for decades (I've got google maps to find yarn shops, too). Oh, and there's the man to replace the windscreen. Isn't it FUN that the heat stress makes stone chips send out lovely wavy cracks across the glass?

(excuse me while I dimple my foccaccia...)



The handspun scarf is on hold: it's too hot for that lovely yarn and I've thought of a more appropriate gift (in August!). Remember those blue cashmere socks, a wedding shower gift for my sister? My bro-in-law-to-be deserves socks too, but I don't know his size. So I'll give him a Sock Token. Two per A4 sheet, each folds in half to become a ruler with which the recipient can measure his/her feet. Designed to be wrapped around something (in this case a bar of rather nice soap) in the following manner: fold the strip, then run a strip of clear stickytape the full length of the ruler (to give it some strength), ending with a small, er, sticky tab of tape on the end where it says 'cut here'. Wrap the token around the gift and stick that end down with the tab.



Addendum: I haven't yet worked out how to make a PDF available for download, and Blogger won't accept the large files necessary to make this print nicely from your machine. Email me if you want one and I'll send you the PDF (c. 150kb).

The Badcaul Socks are well underway in Fleece Artist 'Jester', not as loose as they look in that photo. The Elfine socks were a bit tight and this pattern is not only smaller, it's cabled, which pulls the diameter down even more, so I added 6 stitches to the circumference, making a new small cable running down the centre front and back. I love cabling. I love cabling *without a cable needle*, which is what I've learned this time. I've also learned that reading and knitting at the same time is Not A Good Idea. But I kept doing it anyway, and reaped my reward as shown. Spot an error 10 rows down, unravel, recable. I hesitate to say this, but I actually enjoyed doing that, even though I've had to do it several times. Very satisfying just to be able to do it and it's easier to keep track of which strand is next using multicoloured yarn "pink, flesh, green, pink, hot pink, purple". And, of course, the error is gone.


(must just go and exercise the ciabatta)

The other major knitting is almost certainly a waste of time and yarn, alas. I have succumbed to the lure of Norah Gaughan's Shell Tank in Knitting Nature. It won't suit me, I know it won't. I'm short and squarish with a bust. But the cable... I have to try, I just have to. It's not a difficult pattern, but I've never knitted cotton before (that's Jaeger 'Aqua' in Willow, that is). It's not inclined to forgive the tension variations due to my stop-and-start knitting times. 15 minutes here, an hour there. I can see the changes. Dammit.


I have to work on my tension. Ha. At this wedding I'll be seeing family I haven't seen for over 20 years, plus a vast number of other people I've never met before. When I spend almost all day, every day talking only to my computer and henchcat. Tense? Moi? At last, after 48 years I'm happy to be me, but I expect I will have to hold that thought hard on occasion. It's lovely to read the blogs of people who love and like their families and are loved and liked by them, but it makes me all the more conscious that not all families are like that.

The forecast is for more socks...

but not knitted by me!
I potter about on the fringes of re-enactment, the wearing of period clothing (done properly it is NOT costume) at various historic events. I hope one day to have time to become actively involved, demonstrating weaving and other crafts to introduce people to the various pleasures to be gained from handcrafting goods, but at the moment I'm amongst those who just add colour to events by showing up in my garb. I can be early medieval wealthy middle class, wearing c. 8m of silk-lined fox-coloured wool over a silken shift (at least the bits that show are silk), or I can be early medieval presentable (ie clean) peasant, in a lighter wool gown and linen shift. I even have fake hair to wear under my headcovering, as only a condemned harlot or woman at death's door would have had hair as short as mine. Every time I wear these clothes I think about social history. For example, each time I stand up or walk in my wealthy persona, I am reminded of my social position by the sheer weight of fabric. I am stately -- given the weight of the dress I have to be -- and I was interested to discover that I hold my skirts up when necessary (to climb stairs, for example) in the same way as the women in a host of medieval illustrations. There's no other way to do it. The peasant garb is much better suited to housework. It's positively comfortable and extremely flattering regardless of weight: women who'd honestly look *terrible* in shorts and a t-shirt look comfortable and attractive in this style. I'd happily wear it every day, although I'd be arrested for carrying my belt knife :-)

Anyway, as usual, I digress. Earlier this week a friend asked if a friend of hers could talk to me about Saxon/early medieval clothing, as she's to be a demonstrator at a local Archaeology Day event. We arranged that O and her husband would drop by on Tuesday evening to have a look at the peasant dress. Which they did. And two hours later we were still talking, about weaving, lucetting and knitting, with much of my stash spread out on the floor, and both husbands watching with that look of tolerant amusement I find so touching. She stopped knitting about the same time that I stopped knitting, for roughly the same reasons, and had just realised herself that Yarn Has Changed. And then she saw (and felt) The Blue Socks, and her husband realised they didn't have the seam that makes his toes sore in standard socks. So I showed her the Socks In Progress, and we discussed knitting on two circs, and then I loaned her Cat Bordhi's book and gave her all my old circular needles to use Right Now until she can buy better. Then I emailed her all my knitting bookmarks: online retailers (we have no good LYS), magazines, patterns, blogs :-) Now she's replied me to say that on seeing the book her son instantly demanded she learn how to knit socks so she can teach him. She mentioned it at work and her co-workers want to learn to knit socks...

I emailed back to point out that, bearing in mind I'm only making my third pair (but I've made short-row 8 heels :-), perhaps we could meet as a group one evening and learn to Knit Socks together. I was thinking of meeting in one of the rooms of the village hall, but if we don't do it soon we might need something quite a lot larger!

One of the other students in my Pilates class has been watching me knit as we wait for class to begin told me about her Aunt (who knits) and her Mother (who knits), and how she'd quite like a reason to learn to knit one day because it looks interesting. She's a dancer, beautifully thin, so I excised the Teva Durham Ballet top pattern and the Anne Modesitt camisole from my Interweave knits and passed them to her on Wednesday. Turns out she's going away for a week with her Aunt and her Mother, and now she's decided she'll learn to knit while sitting by the pool :-)

A gratuitous cat photo: nothing escapes his notice, I'd better get back to work.

Socks at last

Finally, some knitting that pleases me. Those %@**! Socks are finished and a friend whose opinion I value considers them to be desirable objects, so that's alright (I'll have to knit her a pair, too).

Those %@**! Blue Socks: Hipknits Sock Cashmere, pattern 'Priscilla's Dream Socks' (subscriber download from Interweave Knits) with some modifications: knitted on two circs rather than dpns, and using different needle sizes; I don't know K's measurements, just her US shoe size, which is larger than mine. I made the large size but used smaller needles to produce a smaller sock that's nonetheless slightly loose on my foot, and with a denser fabric that I hope will wear well. The entire foot was knitted on 2mm/US 0. I had a fair amount of difficulty with that short-row heel, so opted for a different toe, a standard 4point decrease finishing with my first serious exercise in grafting. I enjoyed it, really satisfying, thanks in part to these videos.

You'll note what seems to be a very small bra for two large balls of yarn; that's the next pair of socks already underway. Fleece Artist Sock Merino in 'Jester' which will probably become 'Badcaul' from Anna Bell but with at least one major modification (I'm getting bolder...). 'Elfine' was almost too small, and 'Badcaul' has an even smaller circumference. I could knit on larger needles, but I think I'll add a cable to use the extra stitches. I can hear a small voice muttering "Look behind you... "


And more knitting! I dithered about this scarf for far too long, given the time constraints. Started a pattern and ripped after 5 rows so often that the first bit of the first ball was left in the last swatch; precious though this handspun alpaca/silk is, it was in no condition to be on public display. Having decided I wanted cables, I was wrestling with the fact that almost all of the fabulous cabled scarf patterns are one-sided: the back has an interesting texture, but does not resemble the front OK, it does, it has to, but you know what I mean. Given that both sides of the scarf are always seen, this bothered me. Nora Gaughan's 'Here and There Cables' in Scarf Style proved there was an elegant solution, but the pattern repeat was far too wide. I started playing with graph paper to make something smaller then, while browsing Socks, Socks, Socks for something else, I came across the 'Ribble Socks' pattern. Same reversible cables, smaller repeat. Inspecting the first 6 inches I couldn't decide if I was making a mistake or a truly elegant item, but as the scarf grows longer I'm becoming more and more certain it's the latter.

This yarn is a treat to knit, and is teaching me to knit loosely to allow the handspun space to breathe. 4mm needles produced a fabric that's too dense; 4.5mm makes something that looks like tree bark (alpaca/silk treebark, the softest trees you've ever encountered. Imagine the forest, with silk lace leaves...). Stretched as it will block the cable pattern shows more clearly and the looser fabric drapes beautifully. I think it will bloom when washed as the cashmere did, developing a halo of fine hairs and softening even more. I am *really* looking forward to seeing what happens and, if it's as good as I think it might be I look forward to knitting with that yarn again. Lots.

Some of the questions I didn't answer... the fabric strips will be a knitted carpet. I've saved an old duvet cover, a silk shirt, and I'm watching his most ramshackle pair of jeans. Shades of blue to go on our bedroom floor (all blues and white with a polished wood floor). And alas, none of the dpns are smaller than 3.5mm. I wonder what I used them for? Was my subconscious dreaming of socks so far in the past?

I have seen the future...

and it works. At least for knitting needles in this house (I wouldn't touch it on a computer :-)

Other bloggers occasionally provide glimpses of their needle storage. I envy those who use straights the simple elegance of their options. A chic, casual arrangement in a flower vase, a colourful array of felted needle cosies, or a full house tucked tidily in simple strips of elastic sewn into knitter's version of a jewellery bag. Those of us who use circs have to cope with an untidy, inelegant array of dangly bits. I've seen the circ equivalent of jewellery bags hanging from doorknobs, needles dancing in space to entice cats to leave yarn-catching toothmarks in the slick smooth surface of the needles or sever the cords entirely. (Aquila would then have thoughtfully *eaten* the cords, with horrible results.) Until this morning I left all my needles in their bags, bound into an untidy stack with rubber bands. The postman kindly leaves a rubber band on our drive almost every morning; perhaps I should tell him that paperclips are the route to my heart? Yesterday I thought to check whether or not the needles fitted in the plastic wallets of a CD binder I was given ages ago and never, ever use. YES!


Can you see what I've done? The nice fat binder unzips to reveal... my needles. The Addi packets are wide enough to be punched for insertion. Inox packets are too small, so I've put them in the CD wallets. They're filed by size and length; I can flip to the size I want instantly. You might be able to see the huge Addi I'm going to use to knit fabric strips winking at you between the two sets of folders; that packet is large enough I've punched it for 3 of the 4 holes in the binder. I'm very happy. I generally have great trouble achieving 'tidy'. Spurred by that success I decided to clean out my needle stash. I seem to remember reading that there are people who like the old circs, the ones that had to be soaked in boiling water to straighten them. There may even be people who hoard knitting needles. If you're either of those, everything in the photo below is free to a good home. Some are priced in Can$, which makes them c. 30 years old.



Knitting? I'm not going to jinx anything at this point. I hope to have a FO soon, though. I don't precisely regret deciding to adjust the size of those cashmere socks and make them wear longer/better by knitting the entire foot on 2mm needles, but I will be so terribly glad when they're finished!

Brollie

I think this is true yarn porn: handspun 85% alpaca (from Brollie, who lives somewhere in Kent/Sussex) /15% silk (I don't know the names of the pupae, but they will not have died in vain) from the High Weald Fibre Factory. There is another ball sitting inside swatching. It's interesting yarn, not very elastic, but very soft and with a lovely halo of alpaca fibres. It's the first handspun I've ever handled, so I've no idea if it's really, really good or not, but I like it a lot. I think it will work for the 'Interlocking Balloons' scarf, but I wonder whether the, um, softness/lack of structure and unevenness of the handspun will detract from the precision of the ribs in that pattern. I suspected that this yarn would be better suited to true, thick cables, and the pictures of Jillian's Connemara Scarf (free download from sknitty) suggests I'm right. I want mine, well, J's to be wider than that so I'll invent something. I've done enough cables in my time...
(scrabbling sounds from drawer under bed)
see?
Three of several.
(scrabbling sounds and thoughtful 'Hmmmm' sounds from bookshelf behind chair)
Pale grey/cream is 'Inishmore' (Alice Starmore 'Fishermen's Sweaters' 1995); under it in dark indigo is 'Man's Heavy Aran' and it is heavy even in my size (Annabel Fox, Rowan No. 4 1988); under that, scarcely visible in a heavy khaki/olive chenille is 'Oversized Cable Sweater' (Erika Knight, Rowan No. 8). I'd half-forgotten about those books. They smell a bit musty, but they're full of dreams. There isn't enough room in the house to store all the sweaters I was going to make. And I found the Phildar magazines with the knitted lace doilies and the crocheted tableclothes I made and gave away because I don't use that sort of thing, and my Encyclopedia of Needlework (from which I learned to crochet and tat)... I lack words to describe the frustration I feel. Were the days longer then? Where on earth (or anywhere else) did I find that much spare time? *sigh* Never mind. Feel the alpaca.

Sockheel III: this time it's personal

I WILL triumph. That's a sock, an inanimate object. I'm a reasonably intelligent human being. I can outthink a sock. See? Note the markers indicating the yarnovers (on the needles). Try to ignore the beaded markers which were accidentally strung on the lifeline marking the halfway point. Yup. A lifeline, on a sock. Desperate times demand desperate measures.

Perhaps I was over-confident as a result of the relative ease, or sheer luck(!) with which I mastered, well, completed the 'wrapped stitch' heels. Perhaps I just wasn't paying sufficient attention. Perhaps it's the fuzziness and occasional thinning of this yarn that makes it easier to knit or purl the wrong number of stitches so that when one side of the heel was neatly finished, 5 or so stitches remained on the other side. Was I imagining things, or did I hear them sniggering? This time things will be different: I will prevail!

KIP & BIP (long!)

Too many projects makes for little visible progress on any of them. I'm at the heels (if not my wit's end) on the 'dream socks': I really, really think I prefer short-row heels. Not much experience to base that on, though.

Dedicated birders (ie those who watch our little feathered friends) often have Life Lists, a list of all the birds they've seen. I can add three locations to my KIP Life List thanks to those socks:

In my car on the top of the hydraulic lift as it was inspected for roadworthiness (someone has to twist the steering wheel, etc).

On the Northern Line. A nice lady said I reminded her of her grandmother[!!] who knitted everywhere, and told me about the fabulous shawl she'd knitted when her own daughter was pregnant. She became addicted to knitting, for weeks she knitted everywhere she went, and when it was presented as a gift at the baby shower it was eclipsed by a purchased Shetland Shawl given by the MiL. She doesn't know what her daughter did with it in the end, "probably gave it to a charity shop". I was horrified and tried to persuade her that her daughter was cherishing it as too good to use. I hope so, I really do. When we left the train at Euston I gave her my very best smile and said I thought she should knit herself a shawl to show her daughter how to use it.

In the waiting area for Rigby & Peller. The socks said they felt a bit intimidated by all the burgundy and gold, but we managed it.

As there's no knitting worth boasting about, I thought I'd try some BIP (Baking In Public). Saturday is Pizza Day here. Homemade pizza, a salad, a bottle of red and Dr. Who. Bliss.

Ingredients: 650gm UK strong flour/US all purpose (US flour is higher in protein than the average UK flour); 2 tsp table salt; a scant 1 tbsp sugar; 1 tsp instant yeast; c.2 tbsp olive oil. Add c.400ml cool water. Knead well. I do it like this: with the heel of (here) the right hand *push* the dough
down and away, literally smearing it along the surface while your left hand holds the dough so the whole lump doesn't move. Push from the shoulder; your arm should be straight. As you pull your hand back, curve your fingers down to pull the dough back with it. A lot will stick to the table; never mind, just push again. Build a rhythm. A dough scraper is useful to scrape those stuck remnants back into the ball every now and then; if you haven't got one, improvise. Switch hands occasionally. Do all this with as little flour on the surface as possible: I don't use any at all until I roll the final ball. Added flour makes for drier bread; moister bread is usually nicer. If you look closely at the photo you can see the ragged stringiness that indicates gluten development. Gluten is the protein that eventually forms the network to trap the gases generated by the yeast. Those trapped gas bubbles are what make bread rise, so gluten development is crucial. I knead for about 5 minutes, hard, to get this: a smooth ball. If you could see the surface as I can, you'd see there are bubbles trapped between sheets of gluten visible on the surface. That will be a good crust. Divide the ball into four equal-ish parts, shape each into a ball and leave to rise in a bowl of olive oil. After rising for an hour or so one of my four will go into the freezer for another day. If you want to eat in about 2-3 hours, leave the bowl at warm room temperature. If you're planning ahead, put the bowl in the fridge to rise more slowly, and take it out about 90 minutes before you want to start cooking. Chilling or otherwise 'retarding' a bread dough to force a slow rise allows development of a richer, more complex flavour.
[time passes]
Not as well-risen as I'd like, but not bad. You can see some gas bubbles already; bodes well (I like a light crust). Note that he took the photos in which you can see both of my hands. A third hand of my own would be very useful; I'll let you know if I work out how to acquire one. Preheat the oven; you want it HOT, mine is 250C/450F. Remember to have your baking stone/set of quarry tiles/slab of kiln shelf cut to c. 1" less than your oven dimensions (my choice) on the shelf at the bottom of the oven before you turn it on. Use a baking sheet if you've nothing else, but ceramic is better because it holds the heat: for a good crisp, light crust you and your pizza need *bottom heat*.

Prepare to assemble the pizza(s)! I cheat, big time. I build the pizza on a re-useable sheet of teflon fabric. This means it never sticks to whatever I use to slide it onto the stone, no matter how long it sits in the kitchen, and there's almost nothing between the dough and the hot stone. So I can make all three pizzas, put the first one in the oven, then sit and drink wine until it's done. Anyway... pull one of the lumps free of the rest and start to gently pull (with the hand that's not holding it) and spread (with the fingers of the hand holding it) that lump out into a flatter lump. If you look closely you might be able to see that the dough is actually spongy, full of gas. Don't lose that! When it's a bit flatter, spread and pull it on the teflon fabric until it's the size you want. I make mine about 1" smaller than the fabric. Some bits will be almost 1/2" thick, others so thin you could read a paper through them: that means some bits will be thick, golden and chewy (my favourite) and others will be thin, dark brown and crisp (his favourite). Add the topping. I usually use 4-6tbsp of organic chopped tinned tomatoes in 'thick juice' sprinkled with chopped sage, but a cooked sauce is good, too. Dot with sausage (spanish chorizos) and cheese. I use a dry processed mozzarella because we like a dry crisp pizza; wetter 'fresh' cheese adds too much fluid. When you're ready, just slide it onto a baking sheet or a peel, or even a big piece of sturdy cardboard and slide it off onto the hot baking stone. Peer through the oven window and watch while the crust just zooms up (well, that's what I do). Mine take 13-14 minutes at 250C. Experiment: your oven will be different. I grate strong parmesan onto it, then sprinkle coarsely sliced fresh basil over everything (then eat the bits that don't go on the pizza).
Enjoy!
I don't know what I've forgotten...

It's so annoying!

I think it is, anyway. Well, many things are, but the one that's really rankling at the moment is the variable availability of yarn. Allow me to explain. I'm typesetting an... interesting paper at the moment, 37 pages of tables, graphs that have to be redrawn from Word, illustrations to be inserted (which means re-numbering all references to all illustrations in the paper). Trust me, it's not fun. When I can't bear it any longer I unearth 'Scarf Style' from the stacks of paper around me and consider a problem. There are lots of things I want to make for me, starting with 'Lady Eleanor', but I need to make something for my incipient brother-in-law. I can't give K a gift and not have something for J: it's not fair. (On our birthdays my parents always gave one decent gift to the non-birthday child.) I could knit him his own Wedding Socks (I have the yarn ready) if I asked K his shoe size and she knew it. But he might have immense feet and I really don't want to spend this summer knitting socks to a deadline! I gather he was envious of the handwoven silk/wool scarf I sent K last Christmas. He would like a scarf of his own, and I'd like to knit one for him (weaving comes later, when I'm better at it). 'Forbes Forest' is a possibility, but it will require time and thought and there's something about 'Interlocking Balloons'. I just can't stop looking at it. But can I find a yarn? It seems to be a strange weight: 175yd/160m per 4oz/114g (why can't they give a 'standard' stat, eg 70m/50g?) Lovely mix of merino, alpaca and silk: stretchy for the cables, soft, and a sheen to show off the stitches.

Rummaging through UK online suppliers found Debbie Bliss Baby Alpaca Silk, but no merino/alpaca/silk blend in a single colour or very subtle blend that won't overwhelm the pattern. The Alpaca/Silk is very nearly the right weight, but it doesn't get a particularly good review on Wiseneedle. In theory I could order something from the US, although the three weeks or more it would take to arrive would force some frenzied knitting to finish scarf and a top for me by the end of July[1]. The original yarn is available, but they haven't replied to my email asking if they'll ship to the UK. It seems that for a while they stopped making the yarn. I suspect some knitwear designers write patterns for 'that wonderful yarn they found on holiday' without considering whether or not anyone trying to knit the pattern will be able to find a substitute, let alone the original. I understand why, but it's frustrating, especially when most patterns are written in the US for US yarns and I'm over here in the UK... anyway. I can find thinner yarn, pure alpaca at c. 100m/50g, but that would make the scarf thinner and it's only 9" wide to start with, and it wouldn't have the weight/sheen of the silk fraction. And of course there are thicker yarns, but I want to make an elegant scarf, something that flows rather than smothers. Bother.

(time and digital information flow)

Now that's interesting. I haven't found that before. The average weight is right, and... oh, that's pretty. The person whose URL I gave for the scarf knitted it in an alpaca/silk blend and seems very happy with the results. Handspun would presumably be a bit looser... now, that does look nice. The DB alpaca/silk was said to shed and pill, and this could be worse, being handspun, but... oh, look, that one's lovely. I suppose that if it didn't work for the scarf I could make a different scarf... even garter stitch would look elegant in *that*.

I was so certain I wasn't going to buy any more yarn this month, but this is an emergency, right?



[1] The sea silk hasn't arrived yet so I've just cast on for the Shell Tank from Knitting Nature.

The roses are fabulous

As a child in western Canada 'rose' could have been one of two things. Given that the references in literature were to things in gardens, it seemed likely that 'rose' was the leggy, spined hybrid teas that sprouted in regimental lines in the parched soil lining our neighbour's paths. Blooms too big for their stems, in strident pink, orange, red or combinations of all three, leaves yellowing in the hot dry summer sun. I couldn't understand why anyone would bother to grow them, let alone write paeans to praise that insignificant scent. The alternative was our provincial flower, the wild rose, which lined the roadsides and trapped our clothing when we played in the woods. It was so abundant that we scarcely noticed it or the faint scent of its fragile pale pink blooms unless by chance we found a corner where sun and wind conspired to concentrate and trap the perfume until it became something that could almost leave you drunken with pleasure. The scent of wild roses, sweet clover and dust from roads or wheatfields... all bring back my childhood.

We arrived in the UK and I continued to see no reason for roses. My first garden was a tiny blank canvas (the previous owner, a Sicilian, had grown nothing but courgettes and one giant grapevine) on which I painted a lawn, pond, hostas (oh, happy slugs) and an assortment of herbaceous perennials. No roses. Everyone else had hybrid teas: why bother? Until, desperate to entertain the in-laws, we visited the Royal National Rose Garden in St Albans – and I realised what a rose was. Now roses are what I have in our garden. It's a small garden by North American standards, about 30' square, and some of that is patio and some is vegetable patch. There are roses everywhere else, and at this time of year when the (hated) privet hedge, house and fence trap summer in the garden, the scent is heavenly.

Albertine (above) was one of the first to arrive and now, 18 years old, it usually covers the front of the house in salmon-pink and vicious thorns. The smell fills the house and drifts of petals block the front door. It's still a bit sparse this year after being cut to the bone two years ago.


Mme Hardy (above left) is my favourite, white with a green eye. Beside that (as in life) is Teasing Georgia, a modern David Austin rose. Not with the strong, sweet perfume of the true old roses, but as it and the next two, Ludlow Castle and Pegasus (shades of yellow and cream, not illustrated) flower all summer, I'm not complaining. Much.

In another bed is William Lobb. Look hard and you'll see the resinous 'moss' that gives the 'moss roses' their name covering the flower buds. Next to that (below, in this case) is 'Mary Rose', an Austin with an old rose perfume, but not repeat-flowering. Shown here with Mrs Kendall Clark (the geranium, silly).
There are more that I haven't photographed. Guinee, with deepest dark red blooms and an amazing perfume is persevering up the fence despite hot sun and competition from tree roots. Two more whose names escape me are running riot through the field maple and the pear tree, with a honeysuckle in hot pursuit. And then there's Maiden's Blush growing from an old plant up and out through that privet hedge. Passers-by who catch the merest hint of that scent pivot on their heels and bury their noses in the pale rose-pink blooms. Last summer the roses were also fabulous. At their peak I spent an entire morning harvesting blossoms, snipping away the white at the base of the petals before following an Elizabethan recipe to make rose-petal conserve. The petals of 80 flowers (I counted) and sugar metamorphosed from something that looked like wet dishrags (but smelt divine) to 4 tiny pots of amethyst that when, opened, released the essence of my summer garden on the bleakest of winter days. I will make it again, but not this year.

Next!

I think I've worked out why the silk weft is becoming hairy after passing through the heddles. I didn't stop to consider that the internal surfaces of the loops also might be roughened by mild corrosion. And there are *hundreds* of the bloody things. Bother. The best solution isn't hairspray, it's replacing the silk warp with something tougher and more abrasive to polish the heddles. Probably linen or hemp or something like that. The new bathroom is to be sage green and very pale warm grey (it already has a hand-polished wooden floor), which means the striped blue&white roman blind should be replaced... I could weave something, if I incorporated a design feature that allowed two or more strips to be joined (the window's >24" wide and although I could weave 48" if I was very, very careful, I'd like something easy to restore my beginners' confidence).

On the other hand knitting seems to be going well at the moment. I just want a) more time, and b) (ideally) a different body shape. I covet the Roundabout Leaf Tank and the Shell Tank from Knitting Nature but I strongly suspect I'm too short and square to look good in designs like that. Never mind, I'll probably go for it anyway.

Next, or at least most urgent is a shower gift for my sister (K, if by chance you've found this blog, stop reading NOW!). The theme is 'Hands & Feet' (it's to be held in a spa), so flushed with success at my first real socks I decided to knit a pair for her. This is Hipknits sock cashmere, shade Blueberry, pattern 'Priscilla's Dream Socks' a download from Interweave Knits that I can't find at the moment. I truly love my 'Black Lagoon' socks but I'm not sure lace is the best way to show off hand-dyed yarn *and* I needed an easy-to-size pattern as I can't get her to try these for size as I go. I reserve judgement on the yarn; it somehow doesn't feel quite as I was expecting (although I couldn't say what I was expecting) and smells noticeably of the vinegar in its final bath (reminding me a little too strongly that I really should de-scale the kitchen sink), but it's knitting up nicely and I can see the socks looking good with jeans. The old faded pale blue jeans of my youth, not the dark things youngsters wear these days... :-)


Also on the needles: that Handmaiden 'Sea Silk' in Ivory. I started swatching it for the Diamond Fantasy Shawl, but things just didn't feel right even when I got gauge (WHY does the 'u' want to be in front of the 'a'? Is it tired of being at the end of the Vowel lineup?). The large openings in the pattern meant the yarn wasn't showing its subtle shimmering changes in shade to full advantage. I kept seeing the 'Kimono Shawl' from Folk Shawls every time I picked up the yarn; problem was, I had nothing like enough yarn for that. I bought it as a shawl kit online, 2 skeins of 500m. 'Kimono' needs 2000m of the suggested yarn. Bother, bother, dye lots... damn. OK. An invoice has returned home with its booty. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I've ordered an extra 1200m from Colorsong Yarns (it now comes in 400m skeins). Plan is to try to knit the 'Kimono' of my dreams by alternating rows from different skeins to even out differences between dyelots. If that works I will have a fabulous shawl and a little bit left over. If it doesn't work then I have enough to make two smaller shawls or scarves... or, if I find this out quickly enough, I could buy more of the new dyelot. I'll have no difficulty thinking of a recipient for anything made of this, assuming I can bear to part with it. I've already decided that if by any freak of chance I manage to finish something before The Wedding, then whatever it is is a gift for K. I don't know what to hope for...

I am what?!

What kind of yarn are you?

You are Dishcloth Cotton.You are a very hard worker, most at home when you're at home. You are thrifty and seemingly born to clean. You are considered to be a Plain Jane, but you are too practical to notice.
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rrrRRAAARRrrrrgh

Yes, my secret identity has been revealed... I am the Creature from the Black Lagoon! Cower before me, puny mortals.
Sharon, Ed and Bob, our intrepid local news team, have travelled to Fossil Beach to bring this story to you, "Sharon, what can you tell us about this astonishing and unexpected occurrence?" "Well, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Locals tell us they'd known for some time that something unusual was about to happen. They were hoping for a rain of frogs [cut to Local saying "We like 'em deep-fried in a cracker crumb crust. I reckon we'd get a fair few meals off that 'un, but I'm not volunteering to buy the crackers!"] but were not unduly surprised when this showed up at about 9pm last night. There's general agreement that the situation could be worse [cut to Local cab driver "I had that Yog-Sothoth in the back of my cab once"], so we're keeping a close eye on developments."



















Yes, those are my first-ever Serious Socks. Pattern is 'Elfine' by Anna Bell, a free download. Note that in the side view you can just about see the vertical k1P1 that brought me up short for about 30 minutes :-) Knitted in Fleece Artist 'Sea Storm' merino sock, sole on 2mm circ, lace on 2.5mm circ (pattern called for 2.25 all round). What have I learned? First and foremost , I loved knitting these socks. Small enough to be completed before they're a chore, the perfect canvas for tiny, intricate patterns. I 'm in bare feet whenever possible, so they've got a long life ahead of them. What else? I'm an EU37 (UK5.5/6), depending on the width. At 64st in circumference, these are almost too small. When I make this pattern again I'll try increasing it to 68 or even 70 stitches, which last would allow me to make the lace continuous around the leg (it's a 10st repeat). I cast off loosely with a 4mm needle; that too is almost too tight. More width would be good. But still I love these, my first socks. How much do I love them?
I bought a pair of sandals to show off my socks. I even argued nicely with the sales person who held that no one in their right mind wears sandals and socks. Give me a few weeks and I'll change her mind!

Not Knitting

Well, just a bit. The socks are progressing; the glitch was due to my assumption (life keeps trying to teach me not to make assumptions) that the lace pattern would repeat around the leg without a break, but there is a break, a K1P1 running up each side of the leg. A bit of research found the author's design blog in which she comments that she'd found a problem but thought of a work-round: I think it's the pattern break. I also found several images of finished socks, one of which shows the same break I've got. Another shows someone who may have given up on it: the lace continues up the front, but the sole stockinette runs all the way to the top of the leg at the back.
This morning I'm not thinking about knitting. I'm working, and wishing I was somewhere else, because on a day like this the landscape would look like this


but greener. That was taken in November looking WNW from Coire Mhic Fearchair on the northern slope of Beinn Eighe. Clockwise from left you see the dark slope of Carn na Feola (Beinn Dearg), then in the distance the shape of Baosbheinn, then Beinn an Eòin, then (closer) Beinn a Chearcaill. Google Earth will show you where this is, although on my machine the mountain names are displaced to the southwest. Just go to the Isle of Skye, then move east/inland from Raasay to Torridon and have a look around :-/

I don't care about midges, I want to be there so badly I can almost smell the warm peat, feel the breeze on my skin. The flip side of the desire for something more that drives so much creativity is dissatisfaction with one's current lot in life. Memo to self: remember the title of your blog. There's bound to be something to enjoy today, even if it's a forced sense of accomplishment when 30pp of proof text stutters out of the printer to be sent to an author. Faithful Henchcat says "Just feed me chicken when I wake up. What more could you want?"

ps. http://www.bakerina.com/

A toast to those who did it first

The socks are growing... see? Two short-row heels and one of the feet they're intended to fit. The first one is not quite perfect (I thought it was too easy to be true and unlike the maths exam, it was). It took me a while to realise I was finding it difficult to distinguish between the last knitted stitch and the next wrapped stitch; no way was I tinking that, so I fudged it. Anyone else see a sock covered in chocolate sauce there? I paid MUCH more attention to the next one and it worked as it should. I'm experiencing a momentary difficulty in getting the lace on the back to join the lace on the front as it should, but I'll get there. How can I not? Others have marked the way for me ...

Someone did it first. I was thinking about that as I worked through the first heel (part of the problem, perhaps, but I don't regret it). Someone, somewhen was knitting something that needed a bulge and thought "If I did this and that, then... ". I don't think it could have been me in a previous incarnation, alas: I don't think that way. Or perhaps I lack the confidence to look beyond the instructions? But I spent some time staring off into the middle distance thinking about the people who can do that, who did it without instructions: those who first tried twisting fibre into string, who worked out how to get linen out of flax. Who put a bit of stone or wood on a stick to get the right weight to make a spindle. Who thought of running string through holes in square bits of wood and rotating those bits of wood to get a shed: tablet weaving! Who devised the Weaver's Cross... The list is almost endless, the complex beauty of what we do today traced back through time through all the individuals who contributed finesse and elegance and functionality to the people who did it first. I'm knitting gratitude and admiration into those socks and, more importantly, I am a (very) small part of the tradition keeping their accomplishments alive, passing the knowledge on.

ps. Most of the blue flowers are Nigella damascena, commonly called Love-in-a-Mist or Devil in the Bush. Interesting combination of names. There's a single Viola cornuta, the last of the Forget-Me-Nots and a bit of a petal of Papaver orientalis Perry's White at the very top.

Oops.

All those things I said I was going to do and look what happened. I think I've been bitten by the Sock Bug. Those are the soles of what are, to be painfully honest, my second-ever pair of socks. More about the first in a moment. These here are real socks, ones that fit (so far), in Fleece Artist 'Sea Storm' sock yarn (feels a little harsher than the Cherry Tree Hill, but not badly so), knitted toe-up two at once on two circulars. I started (!) on Magic Loop, which is really no different in method, but two circulars allows me to knit the pattern in 2.5mm and the soles on 2mm which by all reports will make them last longer and be softer underfoot. The glittery thing is my stitch counter, more beads (the fabulously detailed black&whites are Corina's lampwork) and silver-coated copper. When I desperately needed a counter yesterday I remembered a bracelet in what looked like leather and large wooden beads I'd seen on a website and invented an equivalent. As soon as he saw he said "It's an abacus". Clever man :-)

I refuse to think about the heel yet, but I've already learned a lot. I comprehend Second Sock Syndrome: I'm certain the thrill of making these will carry me through to the end, er, top, but I already understand that after making one by itself the second would be less a thrill, more a matter of grim determination. I'm testing a theory about the causes of the pain that some bloggers report when knitting socks. I have found that the wool can hurt my fingers, and I do get arm pain sometimes. The two usually occur together, and I think it's a function of tension/stress AND the need to see what this fine-ish yarn is actually doing on these thin needles. When things started to hurt I analysed what I was doing, how I was holding the work (three cheers for Pilates and previous wrist/elbow problems that have taught me that these things matter), and found that I'm holding the knitting far more tightly than I need to -- the wool on the needles is biting into my fingers because of the ferocity with which I'm pressing down on it -- and I'm holding the knitting close to my face, high up my chest so my middle-aged eyes can see what I'm doing. By looking OVER the top of my reading glasses to see it, which is too stupid for words. To hold the knitting up I'm bending my arms, compressing my elbows and wrists, which is painful if I do it for long periods especially when I'm tense. The solution I've found is to consciously stop stressing and hold the work more naturally. Work in better light - I'm looking for a lamp to stand by my comfy chair - and, if you wear reading glasses, make certain you're using them correctly. My VDU glasses (reading lenses set up for the distance I should be sitting from the computer monitor, essential for someone who spends hours every day in front of one) were a significant improvement because the 'Reading' bit of my bifocals is set up for a closer distance than is comfortable for holding knitting. For some people it might be worth getting a really cheap pair of glasses made up for their comfortable knitting distance in the same way that weavers have glasses set up for weaving.

Those first socks. Let's keep this short, shall we? Toward the end of my First Phase of Knitting I diversified away from aran with a brief foray into intarsia (Phase Ib, as an archaeologist might classify it). Rowan, Kaffe Fassett, 'nuff said. Lots and lots of bits of expensive wool left over, sat in a bag for ages until the day when, while cleaning a particularly inaccessible bookshelf, I came across a Patons? 1970s? booklet of sock patterns I'd never done anything with. Everything was striped and for no reason I can now comprehend it occurred to me that the leftover bits could become striped socks. So I bought some dpn needles, cast on and started knitting. I gave no thought to gauge, to suitability of yarn, I just followed the pattern with the yarn I had. I didn't even think to keep track of what I did where and when so the socks (I was so certain I was knitting socks) would match. I just knitted, and if you try to imagine what I made, your imagination will probably fall far short of the awful reality. They were vaguely sock-shaped, but that's where any resemblance to 'Socks' as wearable items ended. One was a bit too large for him, the other a bit too large for me. Neither was sufficiently beautiful to be a Christmas Stocking or a sculpture, or a cat toy. I have no idea what happened to them, and I don't care... I love what's on my needles now to the point of distraction. In fact I hear their siren song now. Excuse me, I could be knitting socks :-)

oooh, shiny

See? A shadow: the sun is shining! It's glittering off an array of markers, nearly 40 of them so far in silver-coated copper wire (I'm not good enough to deserve real silver :-), amber and... damn, I've forgotten what the green stone is. I had to think of something to do while scanning stuff yesterday. I hesitate to continue with work that matters just in case the machine decides I'm asking too much of it and lets an application die. InDesign does its own backups, but everything else requires me to do it and I rarely remember at the right times. I'm thinking of lace, Sivia Harding's Diamond Fantasy Shawl and, of course Birch. Handmaiden Sea Silk colourway 'Ivory' is swatching on 3.75mm in the DFS pattern; I love silk, but in the last week or so I've begun to understand why one might want to use it spun with at least a little wool. Its lack of elasticity is very unforgiving, but I almost got that 'this is Right' feeling knitting after lunch today. When I finally decide if I got gauge on the Enigma (those blobs confuse the issue) I'll cast on my first try at a proper *fitted* t-shirt. I bet rain descends again as I do so.
The post this morning delivered two 60cm 2.25mm Inox circulars, so I did the figure-8 cast-on for my first proper pair of socks in the Blueberry Hill. Woot! (I believe that's the appropriate exclamation to describe my excitement.)

What else... ah, you might want to see the weaving. I keep admiring it, well, bits of it. Note that the neat Really Twilly bit at the bottom of the picture is not correctly aligned (at 45°). I corrected my tension after the first lavender insertion. That vertical band was an attempt to be very, very clever. It would work if I could keep track of the pattern in it hasn't worked. My thought was that the scarf would be very, er, horizontal with all those horizontal bands of twill and various wefts, so I set up four shafts I just happened to have spare to produce a diamond pattern that would repeat up the length of the scarf to give it some verticality. Problem is that, with other plans not yet visible in that sample, I am working 12 shafts and with only an hour or 90 minutes at most to spare in the average day, I just can't establish a rhythm and spend ages writting stuff down, or working knitting row counters to keep track of what each set of four shafts has to do when I get back. Basket weave is easy (and absolutely GORGEOUS in that silk) but inappropriate. Grrrr. Another lesson learned. Annoyance made worse because the nice smooth silk becomes quite hairy with the wear from the heddles (I am not overworking the reed, honest, I'm being extremely careful), and it's sticking. I'm having to clear the shed manually each time I pass the weft. Someone suggested hairspray; you can't see it, but I've bought some to try. I also briefly considered a quick pass with a blowtorch to scorch the offending haze, but that might have been from annoyance. We'll see... Silk's lack of elasticity is a minor annoyance here, too. It contributes to the thread binding. On the other hand, as the tension evens out further down in the weaving the twill design slowly pops out. I love it.

ps. Notice that plastic drinking straws make perfectly acceptable bobbins/shuttles for short lengths of string. I just wish I'd wound that lavender onto the hot pink straw!

Knitting needles as weapons

Out of curiosity I researched this briefly as a cross between procrastination and a reward for starting work at 7 am and working without pause until 1030, when I stopped for hot chocolate. It's... interesting. In the Chinese sense. There's no consistent policy, which must be fun for knitters who fly a lot. According to the written regulations (presumably airport security has the final say) the Canadian Air Transport Authority (responsible for all airports) allows all knitting needles (just keep scrolling down until you see 'yes' glowing a friendly green). The Canadian airline Zoom refers people to the CATA; on the other hand Air Canada has a cute cartoon of knitting needles (complete with knitting) in company with knives, scalpels and what I think is a Stanley knife (it might be an electric razor or a USB drive, but I'm not going to try to imagine the ways in which those could be used to hijack a plane) as things that have to go in hold baggage. According to this website the US Transport Security Administration allows knitting needles. The British Airports Authority says nothing at all about carry-on baggage on its website; Gatwick is a BAA airport and its list of prohibited items does not include knitting needles (I'm very taken by the notion of a sporting bat. How are they trained? Are there inter-species competitions? I'd be willing to subscribe to a sports channel to watch them). Birmingham isn't on the BAA list; it doesn't allow knitting needles. British Airways cheats, saying only "Please note that you cannot carry sharp items in your carry-on bags". HOW sharp? Do they prohibit pencils? I can put a point on a drawing pencil that you might not believe; I believe it because I've got a permanent tattoo-equivalent on a finger where by some incredible sleight-of-hand (that's what I call it) I managed to embed one and break the lead. Without even trying. I reckon that a properly sharpened pencil of the appropriate length could be a lethal weapon even if it wasn't used to draft cutting political satire, or blackmail. More to the point (sorry), why so many different policies? Is the head of the TSA married to a knitter? Was the head of Birmingham Airport Security forced to wear scratchy wool sweaters as a child? Whence comes a deep-seated fear of knitting needles? I suspect it's Freudian. Shouldn't I be using my time more productively?

I'm just glad I never acquired the habit of always having a hatpin handy for self-defence (my grandmother's advice).

Have we had enough rain yet?

Probably not. But this mix of sunshine, looming cloud, driving rain, overcast and scotch mist is becoming tiresome. On the bright side it means I can't do anything that needs doing in the garden (I've established that glaring at the uncut lawn and thriving weeds does not result in the grass dutifully shortening its height, and the weeds just ignore me completely) which means I could have lots more time for knitting and weaving if I didn't have so much work to do :-(

I have had some fun, though. It's Open Studios in Norfolk this month, so we declared Saturday a Holiday (he had to work Sunday) and set off to enjoy ourselves. I discovered a source of what could be very interesting dyestuff: a Norfolk farm is growing and processing woad. You can order products from Woad-inc Ltd. The woven, dyed scarves may seem expensive, but they're Melanie Venes hand-woven and the one I saw/handled in wool and linen was both lovely and interesting, as the wool took up much more dye than the linen. The bamboo facecloth I fondled was incredibly soft, so soft I'm not certain it would suit me. I like a bit of sandpaper, I do. Saves on exfoliants :-) Mind you, I want to wear something as soft and warm as that! I'm told the dyestuff works well: I've got three skeins of undyed silk from eBay that were earmarked for dyeing one day; now I know how I'll do it.

On the left preparations for my first serious attempt at socks. Cherry Tree Supersock in Blueberry Hill, a beautiful colourway on sale at Get Knitted... I got 2 more skeins yesterday. Only one left when I checked to get that URL. Suddenly I feel lucky! According to the Twisted Sisters sockbook one should swatch socks in the round to be accurate about tension. It currently records that I've gone from 3mm to 2.5mm and now onto 2mm as I try to get gauge (I need to find some way of labelling this permanently). It's on 2 circulars, which is dead easy and I think directly comparable to magic loop in terms of pattern instructions. Each time I change needles I change the pattern in some way. One needle is always stockinette, the other is currently different kinds of ribbing but as I gain confidence I'll test some lace patterns. I'm going to keep adding to the tube as I swatch for more socks (another idea from the TS sockbook). Speaking of socks: I'll be taking a rare trip abroad later this year. I've been reading about what one can and cannot take in carry-on for international flights, and I'm trying to work out how I could take a pair of socks to knit. Metal needles aka Addis seem generally to be frowned upon; circulars are better, but it still seems they're likely to be confiscated. Denise may be disassembled into apparently harmless components (there's a Bond sketch in there somewhere), but aren't small enough. Perhaps I should have a travelling shawl rather than a travelling sock? I'll try to find an Authority at BAA, but I'd be grateful for advice on this. Personally I can think of several things that one takes on board that are less useful than knitting needles and could be lethal weapons, but I may have read too many thrillers.

Also a swatch of Colinette Enigma in Venezia (shown below in more detail. This is weird yarn that doesn't (to me) much resemble the photo on the Colinette site. It's a fine-ish shiny rayon with randomly placed slubs(? is that the word?) of matte cotton, which form the prominent 'blobs'. Not the nicest stuff to knit, as it doesn't flow nicely through my tensioning fingers, the blobs make it difficult to maintain a relatively easy tension while knitting and they seem to jam and prevent 'evening out' by stretching the finished knit. The Venezia colourway isn't what I had imagined either, but having said all this... I've warmed to the yarn after seeing the swatch. The yellow is a bit strident, but the subtle shades of purple, mauve and grey are lovely. It will make a rather dressy t-shirt, I think. Speaking of t-shirts (and the plan to make one that fits) I note that Eunny Jang is promising an 'Unraveling' on tailoring knitting patterns to fit. That's another seriously talented person. Oh, well, if we didn't have goals to aim for we'd never achieve anything. Right?


And a FO: I'm still working my way through the results of a major online credit card injury; this is a Wavy Scarf kit in silk bouclé and cashmere. I like what I've made, but I've used a tighter? smaller gauge than intended so it's smaller than the suggested size. That was interesting: I started with a 6.3mm Denise (can't remember the US size), which produced what I thought was a rather sloppy fabric. I switched to a 6mm Addi, and got something I liked much more; the difference was far, far greater than I'd expect from a .3mm difference in needle size. This experience bears out what I've read about needle composition affecting gauge; important to remember!