First-Footing

In Scotland, there's a custom at New Year's known as First-Footing. Friends visit each others' homes just after midnight, bearing traditional gifts, to ensure that the first foot across the threshold in the new year will be a friendly one, bringing luck for the year to come. There's a lot of great information here, at this BBC-sponsored wiki site, about First-Footing and the other customs of Hogmanay, the Scots New Year.

Here at Yarnstruck Manor, we're having a pleasant New Year's Eve in, with wine and smoked salmon for celebration and fried oysters for luck. Strictly speaking, the fried oysters should have been for Christmas Eve, but the stores around here had run out. We'll just assume that a fried oyster make-up session before the end of the old year will still have the same effect!

There's also first-footing going on at Yarnstruck Manor tonight, but of quite a different sort. My brother's Christmas socks -- which I'm calling Knots and Rings -- are on hold awaiting the yarn for their contrast toes. I already had three other colorways of Socks That Rock Lightweight on hand, but none of them was right for the Knots and Rings socks, so those will have to bide their time. Meanwhile, though, I couldn't help but start on something new.

I'd been thinking of two of those three skeins for possible future presents to particular people, but this one wasn't spoken for. Time for a pair of socks for me!

I hadn't really thought about it, but of all the pairs of socks I've knitted over the years, only two pairs have been for me. And they were made of pretty basic yarns -- a little prickly, in fact -- before I discovered nicer ones.

So, with this yarn, I started yesterday on a pair of socks for myself. Working with this skein, the Socks That Rock yarn is starting to grow on me. It doesn't feel as formidable as the skein in Lagoon. It feels lighter, more flexible, actually a little bouncy with elasticity. It's really rather nice to knit with.

In talking with fiber people about spinning, I've been told that different colors of dyes can affect the texture of the fiber. In particular, they tell me that when wool rovings are dyed with blue and green colors, it can actually felt them slightly, making them a little harder to draft out for spinning. I wonder if there's some similar effect going on with the different dyes with this yarn.

In any case, I began work on the Feather and Fan sock pattern from the Socks Socks Socks book. The first foot of this pair of socks will be the first new foot in our house in the New Year. Perhaps I should walk outside and carry it in over the threshold at midnight!

I like the way the pattern is working with this yarn. This pair is going to be fun. (The color is closer to true in the photo above; the overall effect is not so rusty as this, and the color changes don't really look this jarring.) I'm looking forward to finding out for myself what it's like to wear a pair of merino wool socks.

Now, what about that colorway? Yes, it's... January One. I swear I didn't plan it that way on purpose! But it's awfully appropriate for first-footing, don't you think?

Actually, I'm pretty certain that it's named after the January One blog of Cara, the founder and patron saint of the Spin-Out event held the last couple of years in the New York area. If so, I'm grateful to her for inspiring this colorway, because I'm really enjoying watching these colors paint themselves over the feather and fan pattern. And once they're socks, these colors couldn't help but be cheery on a winter's day.

I hope you're enjoying New Year's Eve as well. Lang may your lums reek! (Scots for: Long may your chimneys smoke!)

Happy New Year to all!

How Much Is Enough?

Quantity of yarn seems to be an issue all around, just now. How much does it take? How much do I need?

In yesterday's post, I didn't think to mention how much yarn the silky scarf required. Let me remedy that now. It took only one 100-gram skein of Handmaiden Sea Silk, with plenty left over. In fact, thanks to the new digital scale I got for Christmas, I can tell you that there are 32 grams left. Based on that, I estimate that Mom's scarf must have taken roughly 300 yards of yarn to knit.

Now, about that 32 grams. That's far too much to throw away, especially since it's so lovely. There's an old saying from times of wartime scarcity: "use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without." That really appeals to my innate frugality. I'd like to use the Sea Silk up. What do you suppose I can make from 1/3 of a skein of Sea Silk? I'll have to give that some thought.

My brother's socks are another matter entirely. I knew all along that there was a good chance that one skein of Socks That Rock would not be enough to complete a pair of men's socks. Even though the skein is about 4 1/2 ounces, the yarn is dense and heavy, so the yardage is moderate. Nevertheless, I knit heedlessly on, figuring that, if needed, contrasting toes would be my secret weapon. Once the first sock was done (but the yarn not cut!) I would determine whether I had enough for the second by comparing the weight of the completed sock and the remaining ball of yarn. When I got there, the completed sock weighed 71 grams, and the rest of the ball weighed only 51 grams. Not even close! I was definitely going to come up way short. I could feel the difference even without the scale.

Well. Contrasting toes are an awfully nice touch, don't you think? And they spend most of their time deep inside shoes. Nobody but the wearer need ever know, unless he chooses to doff his shoes and wiggle his toes. Surely that bespeaks a cozy degree of chumminess that ought to be able to withstand even the most startling contrasting toes! Besides, my brother is just generally a good-humored sort of fellow.

So, using my handy little scale, I ripped out enough rows to even up the weight. I knit the second sock to the same point, thinking all the while that I could do the toes with one of the other skeins of Socks That Rock that I already have on hand. I do want to use the same type of yarn so there won't be a difference in texture.

Now that both socks are ready, the question becomes acute. Here are my options. The skein in the center seems the most likely candidate, but it's not ideal. I find that I'm pickier now than I had expected. My sweet brother's good humor notwithstanding, I want to present him with a beautiful pair of handknit socks, not one thrown together as potluck.

So even though I'm eager to keep going, it looks like I won't be happy unless I order another skein specifically chosen for these socks. It will still need to be a contrasting color, since another skein of the same Lagoon colorway would most likely be from a different batch and leave a tide mark. I'll order another color that I hope will coordinate, and pace the floor impatiently until it gets here.

Looking at all of the beautiful colorways on the Blue Moon Fiber Arts site, it's awfully tempting to throw in a couple more pretty skeins for myself while I'm at it. But that would be gratuitous, wouldn't it? While my store of sock yarn has not reached national strategic stockpile proportions, I can hardly say I'm lacking. After all, how much is enough?

A Satisfying Finish

I do love the time right after Christmas when the frenetic pace of preparation and celebration gives way to relaxed lazy days with no deadlines. It's a great time to sit by the tree with a cup of hot spiced cider... and knit!

Now that my Dad has his socks, and my Mom her scarf, I thought I'd give a little wrap-up on the finished objects.

Gentleman's Fancy Socks
from Knitting Vintage Socks, by Nancy Bush

I made these socks in the yarn specified by the pattern, Schaefer Anne, which is a very fine-gauge hand-painted yarn of merino, mohair, and a bit of nylon for durability. It is soft and luscious to knit, with a little loft and a soft halo from the mohair. It's superwash, too, which is nice. This yarn goes a long way. There are 560 yards in the 4-ounce skein. I have well over an ounce left over!

The tag that came on the skein didn't identify a colorway. Looking around a little on the web, I've found that a number of sites (like this one) say that skeins of Anne are one-of-a-kind, impromptu small-batch creations using dyes on hand from making other Schaefer yarns. Several other sites (like this one and this one, for instance) offer named colorways of Anne for sale, so I'm not really sure! In any case, this skein is in subtle, masculine greens, ranging from sages to olives to khakis. The true color is somewhere between these two photos. It has enough variation for interest and depth without distracting from the stitch pattern.

I used size 1 double- pointed bamboo needles (vs. the size 0 needles called for in the pattern). Bamboo needles are not a particular favorite for me. I find them too bendy, and I always feel like they could give way at any moment. It's like knitting with licorice sticks. But I knew this project was going on a vacation with me, and I figured airport security staff and fellow passengers would find the bamboo needles less scary than my trusty steel double-points. So bamboo it was.

I did modify the pattern somewhat. It had some very unusual features, including a "seam stitch" down the center back of the heel, unusually pointed shaping of the toe, and side-to-side grafting. In this book, Nancy Bush seems as much archivist as designer. I, however, was more interested in producing a comfortable, well-fitting sock than in recreating a museum piece, so I eliminated the "seam" and redesigned the toe to a more typical rounded shape.

In the end, I was very happy with the results. The yarn is lovely, the stitch pattern is attractive, stretchy, and accommodating, and the socks fit nicely. Hooray!

Scarf with Striped Border
from Victorian Lace Today, by Jane Sowerby

I made this simple lace scarf in Hand Maiden Sea Silk, a lovely yarn of silk and Sea Cell, a cellulosic fiber made with a smidgen of seaweed. In this case as well, I don't know the colorway. The tag from the skein says only "Hand Dyed in Canada -- one of a kind." This site has good photos of about 40 of its gorgeous colorways; from the picture, it looks like mine might be the Renaissance colorway.

I used size 5 Brittany birch needles. The pattern calls for size 7 needles, but I was looking for a finer texture without such large loops. (On the other hand, in the end, I over-blocked it slightly to open it up. Hmm.) In this project, the Brittany needles had their chance to shine. For most things, I prefer shiny steel or aluminum needles, smooth and fast, but in this case, the wood was perfect for providing a little grip on the slippery silk.

The pattern, which also seems to be referred to by many as "the page 80 scarf," was accurate and reasonably easy. I enjoyed the technique for knitting the borders sideways and the body of the scarf vertically without breaking the yarn. The only modification I made was to add an extra 25 repeats of the two-row pattern in the main body. This was necessary to regain some of the length lost because of the smaller needles. It came out just a little narrower than the width in the original pattern, but pretty close to the original length. It's a wonderful, versatile size that can be worn many different ways, simply knotted in the front as a decorative accent over a blouse, or wrapped around and around and tucked like an ascot.

And the scarf itself? I think it's glorious. After blocking, it has a lovely drape, and the patterned ends, which remind me of fishtails, show beautifully.

I'm absolutely in love with the colors, and the sheen of the silk, and the way they work in this pattern. I'm delighted with the pooling of the colors over the length of the scarf. I look at the striking rose/fuchsia streak against the deep, quiet blues and teals, and I see a slow flow of lava, glowing in the nighttime, turning this way and that to follow the terrain, crusting over a little as it cools, and finally disappearing into the sea in a cloud of frothy spume. I love the way the lava-flow contrasts with the short vertical dashes of color in the borders.

Most important of all, my Mom loves it.

Salutations!

Oh, my. I can't believe it's been ten days since there's been so much as a peep out of me. Well, I'll just say hello briefly for now, and then hope to get back to normal in the next few days. To all of you who have been able to get through the busy holidays and still keep connected with your usual activities on the Web, I salute you!

For my own part, I had to hurry, but managed to enjoy at least a smattering of all the traditional holiday festivities and a lot of warm and wonderful time with family. My immediate family lives nearby, and my in-laws traveled in from Florida retirement-land.

The tree was decorated, and I had the pleasure of rediscovering all my special ornaments and the stories and memories behind them. Holiday music was played. The cards were sent. The presents were wrapped. Ribbons and bows had to be skipped in the interests of time, but sometimes we have to make a few minor sacrifices on the little things to get the bigger ones right.

My mother-in-law and little niecey came over to do their Christmas baking. And since my sister-in-law's kitchen is in the midst of renovation, I was able to have the pleasure of hosting our whole smallish but lively crowd for both Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner.

The couple of handknits I gave as gifts were enthusiastically received. I've talked about them here over the last few weeks, but tried to be just a bit cagey in case the recipients should be looking. Now that I can speak freely, a finished object comment and picture or two might very well show up here shortly. Even my brother's half-done first-sock-of-a-pair, wrapped up needles-and-all, was received with pleasure... that is, once he was reassured that he wasn't going to have to learn to knit to finish them himself!

I received some really wonderful knitting and spinning-related presents from family members who don't share these all-consuming hobbies themselves, but go to a lot of trouble to come up with things that make me happy.

I'll leave you today with a few pictures and my warmest wishes to you and your families for the best at the holidays and in the coming New Year.

Here's Santa's little helper getting the decorating underway.






Christmas baking in my husband's family means Norwegian specialties like kringla and these lefse (flatbreads), ready to be rolled up with sugar.


This is the special rolling pin used to make the lefse.







Here is a sheet of my little niecey's cookies ready to go into the oven.



This is the start of my brother's Socks That Rock Christmas socks -- and about as much as there was to wrap!

And now I'd just like to extend all my very best to you and yours.

What's All This I Hear...

About Socks for Rocks? What do rocks need with socks anyway? They don't need to stay warm; they're cold-blooded. Rocks are warm anyway. Lizards climb on them to bake in the sun. Rocks don't need socks to keep their little shoes from rubbing. They don't wear shoes. They don't even have feet! And to think there are rocks getting socks when there are children in this world who don't have any.... Oh, what's that you say? It's not socks for rocks? It's Socks That Rock? Oh. Well, that's very different. Never mind!

So, Socks That Rock. The yarn that so many sock-knitters are gaga for. The yarn that makes a thousand bloggers swoon. The yarn that causes them to swarm like locusts over the Blue Moon Fiber Arts booth, picking it clean within hours, leaving only a dry husk. I had to see what all the fuss is about.

It's time anyway to pick another project to start. The striped border silk scarf is pegged out upstairs. Stretched out on all her pins, she looks beautiful but a touch desperate. Like a Bond girl, about to go into a threshing machine, giant drill, tank of sharks, or nuclear ice melter, with the villain standing by. "James, James!" she cries, "Don't worry about me, go ahead and save the world first! There are still eight seconds left before this thing runs me over!" But, like the Bond girl, she will soon wind up safe, fresh, lovely, and perfectly coiffed. I'm going to leave her to block a while longer. I want to wait a full 24 hours, to make sure she's completely dry. Pinning out a project for blocking, while it does have a certain absorbing quality all its own, is not something I'm anxious to repeat.

Meanwhile, I've pulled out a skein of Socks That Rock lightweight to play with, in the Lagoon colorway. It's a nice masculine combination of inky blues and greens that I will no doubt have the dickens of a time trying to photograph. I do basically know my way around a camera; I have a decent working knowledge gained through a short stint on a school yearbook staff. Finding all those same functions on a menu-driven digital camera, though, is a different kettle of fish. Sooner or later, I may have to spend some focused time with the manual. But there's no need to be hasty!

I started swatching with the Socks That Rock, curious about all the hullabaloo. It's pure merino, fairly tightly twisted, the plying showing a certain corded look. I imagine the tight twist is both to keep merino's reputed tendency to pill at bay and to make the yarn strong for socks, since it has no nylon content. The feel of the yarn is solid and firm. There's no airiness in this stuff, no fuzz, no compressibility. It feels forthright, foursquare. I yam what I yam.

The label calls for eight to ten stitches per inch on US size 1 needles. With size 1s, I got eight stitches to the inch on the nose, and a dense, solid, firm fabric. I think I'm going to have to acquit myself of being a tight knitter. I wouldn't be able to get ten stitches to the inch with this yarn if I tried. It's hard to envision the knitter who could. I think she'd have to be outfitted with a winch.

Getting acquainted, I tried some ribbing, a little texture, some cables. I finally went up to size 2 needles to get a fabric that's more pliable and doesn't require as much wrestling to cross a cable. I hope I'm not doing wrong by loosening it up. It does have a nice feel now, still sturdy, but with a bit of resilience that seems as if it would be more comfortable underfoot.

This yarn has many devotees. One reason, undoubtedly, is the selection of great colorways it comes in, with color runs well tuned to give a nice stripey effect. It also seems to show stitchwork very well, although of course the effect can be swallowed up by the multi-colored background. But are all these people making strong, dense socks? Sturdy socks that you'd need a good breakfast to have the strength to pull up over your feet?

Or does the yarn perhaps soften and bloom with washing to a more relaxed and approachable texture?

Or even, is the gauge on the label an in-joke, a bit of mirth? No, I think we can rule that one out!

The Fog Creeps Out

Slowly, the flu-induced fog is receding on little cat feet. Or whatever kind of little feet it is that flu travels on. Little germ feet, maybe. Cilia, I suppose.

I just hope world's-most-patient-husband does not pick up this bug. It's no fun at all, and I don't want him to have to take a turn with it. But as much as I've been moping around the house all week, touching things, coughing, and just generally breathing around the place, I'm sure it's one giant booby-trap for the unwary. I'm just going to have to hope that he can get some extra rest and take good care of himself and manage to duck the whole thing.

As for me, I missed an entire week of work, and, more critically, time getting ready for Christmas. And in a cruel twist, even though I was stuck at home too weak and listless to do anything else, I did not feel like knitting! I went so far as to think that knitting seemed boring and pointless. I'm convinced it was the fever talking. (I mean, pointless? Knitting needles? :) Thank goodness the fever finally subsided and went away a couple of days ago. Good riddance to it.

So I'm slowly getting back to being not too much worse for the wear, other than some surplus tiredness and the occasional bone-rattling cough. And, boy, have I got some catching up to do. I hope to turn into a little Christmas dynamo for a few days. We'll see how that goes. I may have to make a few compromises here and there.

Merry Christmas, I got you this... pack of gum. Hope you like it! No, of course, I'm kidding. Balls of yarn for everyone! No, I'm still kidding. What compromises there are will have to be of the baking, card-writing, and decorating variety, to try to save time for shopping, wrapping, and spending time with family.

Anyway, one thing I did manage to finish is the rest of the striped border silk scarf from Victorian Lace Today. My version is a little smaller and more demure than the original in the book, since I went to smaller needles for a more contained and fine-grained texture. I did add a good dollop of extra repeats in the main body to get it to a decent length, however.

Once the main body was done, it was interesting doing the second border as a knitted-on border. I hadn't done one before, but it makes perfect sense. It's just basically this. As you go back and forth across the border, the last stitch of the border is knit together with one of the stitches of the body each time you bump back into it, allowing the border to "climb" up the side edge. It sure beats sewing seams!

In the picture, the knitting-on process is part-way done. The stitches of the border, being worked from side to side, are bunched toward the top/right side of the needle. The remaining stitches of the main body that was knit vertically are the smaller bunch on the left/bottom waiting to be folded in one at a time as I come to them. An interesting little chain stitch forms across the junction of the two sections.

The whole thing is sheering off at an angle at this point, partly due to the joining operation at hand, but it's also part of the general biasing that I hope will be brought under control by a good stiff blocking. Maybe I can work up a good head of steam and ambition to get that done tomorrow.

I'm really looking forward to seeing what this scarf will grow up to be!

It'll Do In A Nostepinch

Recently, I'd been trying what I call lap-skeining: knitting directly from a skein lying loose across my lap, instead of winding the yarn into a ball first. It was an interesting experiment but, ultimately, I decided, not my cup of tea.

I tried it when I was facing a 400-meter skein of fingering-weight silk and anxious to get started on my project, instead of sitting down for a marathon ball-winding session. Here, it seemed, was a way out! What did I need a wound ball for, when I had knees and gravity? So, laughing my evil henchman laugh all the while, I gave it a try. What I found, though -- once the initial exultant sense of getting away with something had ebbed away -- was that it turned out to be more extra fuss than warranted for the amount of time saved. This probably shouldn't have surprised me; otherwise, I suppose there would be lawless lap-skeining breaking out all over the land.

So it seems there's a reason why the wound ball was invented. Pulling a strand of yarn from the skein each time I needed to loosen another length was quite a delicate operation. It meant drawing the yarn centrifugally from the carefully laid-out skein, lifting the working strand off its fellows, their tendency to cling and pull up right along with it not always overcome by their own weight, and keeping the far loose end of the yarn from getting involved and causing a tangle. Nor was the knitting itself as relaxing and serene as it should be. In the back of my mind, there was a constant low-level buzz of worry that an ill-advised shift or motion could imperil the whole scheme. On the bright side, as Mary pointed out, when I really needed to relocate it, I could just hang the whole business rakishly around my neck. But on the whole, it was uncomfortably immobilizing. I couldn't do something as simple as re-crossing my legs without thinking about it. And that must be something I do a whole lot more than I ever realized, because not being able to do it sure was driving me crazy!

So it's back to the ball for me. Join the lap liberation front! Wound balls forever!

As knitters know, you can make a ball of yarn that pulls from the center by first making a little butterfly of yarn, then, making sure the loose yarn end stays out where you can see it, grasping the butterfly with your finger and thumb, and winding the yarn around and around over them. You have to keep the thumb in there for a good long time as you wind the yarn, to keep a hollow core in the ball so the end won't get sealed in too tightly to pull freely. You keep turning the ball on your thumb this way and that so the yarn will wind on evenly.

But as I learned when I started to read about spinning, there's a tool made just for the purpose, called a nostepinne. (That should actually be the special Scandinavian "o" with the little slash through it, but since I don't know how to make one, please just pretend it's there. :)

This pleasantly tactile nostepinne, made in Poland by the Kromski spinning wheel people, was one of my fun acquisitions last October at the Fall Fiber Festival in Montpelier, Virginia. This handy little tool helps liberate my thumb as well as my lap. In fact, a surrogate thumb is in essence what it really is. You hold it by the comfortable handle, and wind the ball onto the post, leaving your thumb free to answer the telephone, make a cup of tea, and generally come and go as it pleases. Just one of life's little luxuries.

But, of course, if you don't happen to have one handy, why let that be an obstacle? Even a pencil will do in a nostepinch! :)

Knitting When I Oughtn't To

Or, how knitting leads to the flu, and the flu leads to knitting.

This year, wanting to spare myself some pressure, I intentionally set no holiday knitting goals. Oh, if something I was knitting happened to be not for myself but for a loved one, and if it happened to get done around the holiday season, I certainly wouldn't quibble with that. I'd be happy to wrap it up, put a big bow on top, and pat myself on the back.

What I did not want to do is to set unrealistic goals, spend time knitting to a deadline, and get behind on all of the other wonderful but time-consuming things that need to be done to get ready for the holidays. This is a season I truly enjoy, but have, all too often, had to rush to the finish. But maybe this would be the year that I didn't have to stay up until 3AM to get the last of the gifts wrapped in time for Christmas.

Well, goals or no goals, it looks like I've let the knitting get out of control. I've been knitting when I oughtn't to. I've been knitting when I should have been (shopping, wrapping, decorating, tree-trimming, baking, ....) So I'm behind. At times, I've been knitting when I should have been sleeping. Well, for heaven's sake, why? Maybe it's just that a knitting project looks so inviting sitting conveniently by a comfortable chair. It's so easy to pick it up whenever there's a spare moment to be filled. And so hard to put it down. And then there's my stubborn streak. When I'm having a problem with a project, I'm just determined to get it right. If that means knitting and re-knitting and re-knitting, then I'll keep at it, even knowing I'm spending time out of all reason.

Have I learned anything? Well, yes. (1) I can't spend all this time with the knitting needles and not expect some consequences. Christmas is rushing up awfully fast, and I'm behind on all the things I love about it. (2) I can't knit late into the night in flu season with fevers and coughs running rampant among my co-workers and not expect some consequences. Yes, I came down with the flu this weekend and have had to spend the last few days nursing a high fever instead of puttering around with the Christmas decorations singing carols under my breath. Ever had the kind of fever that makes your head ache when you cough? The kind that makes every joint feel arthritic? The kind that makes it hurt to move your eyes? Me, too.

So, when down with the flu, one needs some quiet undemanding things to pass the time between naps. Like books. ... And knitting. That's the bright side, I suppose; I've had time to make some good progress on the knitting. The Victorian Lace Today striped border scarf is coming along nicely. I may or may not be finished with the main body and ready to start on the second, knitted-on border. I've done as many repeats as the pattern calls for, but since I went down a couple of needle sizes, it's not as long. So the question is, when to stop? The original pattern is a 60-inch scarf, after blocking. I'm not sure this one needs to be that long; that sounds like kind of a long, floaty-ended affair. It might be nice to keep it to more of a trim, tidy, wrap-and-tuck-into-your-coat kind of scarf. And, of course, I don't know how much length the blocking process will add. Maybe I should just let that sort itself out in the back of my head for a while. That might allow me, once the fever abates, to concentrate on making it begin to look a bit more like Christmas around here.

When I called in sick this morning, our wonderful secretary asked if she should check to see if there were any meetings that needed to be cancelled. Oh yes, great idea. She read me the first thing listed on my schedule. "Call about flu shot." Ha!