DesigKnit

I lasted until about Tuesday before casting on with the Chiaogoo needles, despite their blunt tips. I had visions of just sucking it up and knitting the whole shawl with them. I tried to convince myself that they weren’t too bad.

And then yesterday, I was out running errands and stopped by the yarn store that I knew had Addis.

What a difference it makes to have the right tool.

I’d say my speed has doubled. As long as you don’t count the part where I had to pull back 3 times because I made a mistake that I couldn’t seem to fix. (It’s fixed now. )(I hope.)

I now have the right needles, and I’m pretty sure I have the right yarn this time.

My gauge doesn’t seem to have changed much, but I’ll probably do a light blocking on the needles in a few rows just to be sure. Wouldn’t want to have to pull all the way back, even if the knitting is faster this time around! For now, I’m calling this a swatch.

I also finished the warping this afternoon. There were a few tangles, and some odd problem that caused a few warp threads to break (still not sure why), but we are out of the woods now. I even have a little bit of fabric begun.

(That dark color is really green, not brown…)

Though warping takes forever, the weaving is indeed fast.

There might be a glimmer of hope that this will be a productive week.

Those who say that weaving is fast are referring to the part that comes after all the threads are loaded into the loom. It’s true: the weaving is fast, but the warping is slow.

Four hundred and twenty pieces of string, cut into 6-yard pieces, must be wound through the loom and settled into place before the weaving can begin. Every piece must pass through two holes in the right sequence in preparation for the pattern in the fabric. Not hard. Not cumbersome. But slow and methodical. Patience and care come at the beginning of the project, before the making can commence. Careful winding and unwinding, avoiding tangles and knots.

An investment of time that will be paid back by the speed of casting a shuttle and turning warp into fabric.

Charts? Check.

Yarn? Check.

Needles? Umm…??

I can’t believe that these are words that I can still say, but I don’t have the right needles for the lace I cast on the other day. It has been a long, long time since I’ve needed a needle and not had it.A glance at my needle collection would be enough to convince you that I have everything anyone could ever need, and multiple copies at that. And yet, I appear to have missed filling in the smaller sizes in my Addi lace collection. Huh.

The cast on I showed you was on size 3 Addis, but the gauge was way too loose. I wanted to go down to a 1 or a 2. I have a 2.25 mm (I think….it’s the one that has no equivalent US size), but that’s coming out a little too tight.

I went to knit night at my LYS on Wednesday, and bought size 1 and 2 in their pointiest needles (ChiaoGoos), as they don’t carry Addis. I’ve never tried Chiaogoo needles before. They looked pretty pointy, but after the first few rows of lace, I discovered that they’re not really pointy enough for things like k3tog. (Or at least not with this yarn and my tension.)

Guess I’ll be knitting on something else for a while…maybe a sock that is much needed to complete a pair. Or maybe a neglected sweater. Too bad, though…I was hoping to make some headway on the lace this weekend. Good thing there are plenty of distractions around!

Oh, dear. A box full of distraction showed up at my door tonight.

It had some cotton in it.

And some lovely, lovely wool.

A bit of  tussah silk.

And some bamboo.

(I love that color.)

I’m so glad it’s almost the weekend.

For the progress-obsessed among us, blogs can be a dangerous thing. Not only do I want to feel like I’m getting somewhere with my knitting, but I also want to be able to show that I’ve gotten somewhere. You know – blog fodder.

I’ve spent more time on knitting in the past 4 days than I probably have in the past 3 weeks. Which is great. Except that it’s all invisible.

A chart here, a swatch there.

Preparation for bigger things.

Learning, absorbing, closely studying how others work, and how they present their work. Following by example. Finding my own way.

But that doesn’t leave me with much to show.

So today, I present you with one hundred and forty closely packed stitches on some rather small needles.

A promise of more to come.

Creativity is a cat. Chase it, and it will run away. Ignore it, look the other way, and it will rub up against you and jump in your lap. (Where it may or may not interrupt your current knitting plans, depending on its mood.)

I told you last week that I have put aside the complicated lace patterns for the moment in favor of simple, mindless, meditative knits.

I made a cowl-y thing. And a hat. Yesterday, I finished a sock.

Baby steps. Basics.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a tickle at the back of my brain. The shawl was calling. Not necessarily calling me to knit, but calling to say I’d picked the wrong yarn.

I love the Mountain Colors yarn. Love it.

But my lace is getting lost in its color changes.

(The fact that the photo has to be that overexposed to see both the lace and the color should tell you something…)

It looks ever so much better in the plain yarn that I used to swatch when I needed to see my stitches more clearly.

It needs a plain yarn. It told me so, in the moment that I was ignoring it. A quiet whisper in my ear, unbidden and unexpected.

I didn’t even know that there was a problem, though I had suspected that the yarn might not be perfect for this project. I probably should have figured it out when I wasn’t excited about picking it back up after the move, but I just chalked that up to general life craziness. And now, it’s solved before I even knew it was there.

Sometimes I forget that the best way to find creative answers  is to simply walk away and wait for them to come padding in on quiet cat feet.

In the darkness of winter, we can all use a little brightness.  I found myself drawn deep into the color of this scarf as I knit, wrapped up in the comfort of its warmth. Its pure, vibrant red makes me think of fire and the warm, earthy spices that brighten these cold days. Mulled cider by the fireplace, the warm, red glow of embers.

In its pattern, I see a million things. Sharp, crackling flames.

Deep, oscillating zig zags.

Undulating vines.

Ocean waves.

Woven ribbons.

Sailboats racing into the breeze, a reminder that summer will return.

It’s light and airy, but it’s also warm. Warm enough that I managed to take off my coat (in 20 degree weather) to take a few pictures while Branden was home. The edges still curl a tiny bit, where the garter stitch border folds behind the lace and gives it stability. A quiet reminder that it began as the cinnamon stick scarf.

There’s little of that left, though, in the airy lace this has become.

These fiery berries were the only color we found in the soft grey landscape.

Some squirrel will be glad to find them waiting in the winter snow, a beacon of hope, a memory of fall’s bounty.

Thanks to Branden’s technical wrangling, the scarf is now available on the pattern page, and through Ravelry.

One of the things that I love most about knitting is its ability to shift and change, to rise and fall with the flow of life. One minute a challenge, the next a much-needed reassurance, an oasis of rest. This last is what I need most right now; surety and steadiness. One thing that I can do without thinking, that comes naturally into place.

My creative energies are needed elsewhere right now,  making big changes and forging new paths. Everything is fine, and in fact better than it has been in a long time, but there’s a lot that needs my attention, that requires my focus. It’s comforting to know that my knitting will be here when I’m ready, as complex or as simple as I need in that time, for that moment.

For now, I have let go the complex, vaulting designs that require thought and planning in favor of the meditative simplicity of a single stitch, worked over and over (and over and over). First Drishdi, then a simple cowl to keep cold air out of too-sensitive lungs.

Nothing fancy; just a long tube of 2×2 rib in Cascade Eco wool from the stash.

Now, a hat to match the cowl, and then simple stockinette socks in a beautiful yarn.

That’s Socks that Rock Light in Mochaberry. It is every bit as squishable as it looks.

Simple things. Warm things.

Rest and comfort on the needles.

Knitting a top-down raglan is great because you can try it on as you go.

…or so I’m told. I’ve finally gotten back around to working on the Kauni sweater. After almost a month of neglect (it has sat untouched since the plane ride back to the US until about a week ago), it’s finally started moving again. Still slowly, but it’s moving. I had expected to be pretty much home free after starting the body in the round. With only a little bit of side shaping, I figured it would be easy sailing to the hem.

And then I tried it on.

And now I’m not so sure.

I’m beginning to think that the worst thing about a top-down raglan is that you can try it on, and then obsess over whether it’s really right or not all the way from the armholes to the hem.

See, the tape measure says it’s right. Comparing it to sweaters that fit me well says that it’s right. The shape is fine, and actually looks really good. But when I put it on, it looks too big.

I have a tendency to worry about things being too big, because most of the sweaters I’ve knit for myself have ended up bigger than I’ve intended. But this time the tape measure agrees with my calculations and my swatches, and tells me that this is the right size, even if it looks big and floppy on the needles. And, of course, just having needles in it makes the edge stretch and do wonky things, so it could be perfectly fine. Without the rest of the fabric there to weigh it down, it’s hard to tell what it will look like when it’s finished.

But now I’m worried.

As I see it, there are four options:

1) Frog back to the armholes, “fix” a problem I’m not sure is there, and pray that it doesn’t end up too small. (Which would be a really, really annoying way to be reminded to just trust the darn swatch already.)

2) Aggressive side shaping that may or may not look good, but that will reassure me that I’m not making a tent.

3) Knit it as is, have faith in the swatch and the measurements, and just steek the silly thing if I have to. The way it’s knit, I can easily take out about 1.5 inches under each arm just by steeking and making side seams. I’ll know how the body fits before I attach the sleeves, so this should be pretty easy.

4) Embrace the bagginess of raglans, knit it as is, and glory in a too-big but comfy sweater if that’s how it happens to turn out. (I have been known to do this…my favorite sweater is easily 2 or 3 sizes too big. Still, I was hoping that I’d want to wear this one out of the house…)

I’m leaning toward #3. One and two seem like there’s a lot of room for regretting my lack of faith later (though, of course, there’s the equally high probability of kicking myself for not listening to my better judgment, too). This is a tight fabric with all its slip stitches, so it’s not likely to stretch much at all, unlike the other sweaters that have grown to half again the size predicted by the swatch once washed and worn. Alpaca Oblivion, I’m looking at you…

Number four is tempting, but again, I’d like this to be something that I wear out in the world, not just when I want to be comfortable at home.

And three. Well, I hadn’t planned to steek it, but I am really sure that this yarn can take it. When I picked the sweater up the other day, I realized that there were 5 stitches at the armhole join that I had somehow never put on the stitch holder, and they were still sitting exactly where they’d started, after being stuffed into and pulled out of a bag, stretched around the needles hundreds (literally) of times while I knit almost  6 inches of fabric beyond them. If those stitches didn’t go anywhere, there’s no chance that a sewn steek will be a problem.

I sound like I’ve made up my mind, but I really haven’t. I’m wondering with every stitch if I should go back now (because I don’t want to pull back later). I think it’s ok. In fact, it’s probably perfect. But now I’m worried.

All because I got to try the darned thing on.

Just before I left Germany, I went to the Heidelberg knitting group. One of the members gave me a gift, wrapped in a Christmas napkin, and said that it was a Christmas present.

I am not usually one to be tormented by unopened gifts, but this one made me curious. It was small, and flat, and everything in it was soft. And it was from a knitter. It was hard, but I was good, and waited until Christmas to open it.

And look what I found inside!

Aren’t they adorable?? They are tiny, tiny little mittens knit out of sock yarn with what must really be infinite patience. They have thumb gussets. There’s a right and a left. I just love them.

We didn’t get a tree this year, partly because we don’t have much to put on a tree. This is our first Christmas spent at home rather than with family, so our ornament collection is really very small. I’m tucking these away for next year, though, and I can’t wait to put them on our first tree. For now, I’ve just been smiling and doing a little happy dance whenever I see them. Their tininess just delights me. Thanks, Andrea!