Month: March 2016
The thing about colorwork
~on trying new techniques, and learning to carry all the things
The thing nobody told me about colorwork knitting is that it’s really quite easy – especially Fair Isle colorwork, where you only have to orchestrate two strands of yarn at any one time. It turns out that working with several colors at once is enjoyable, relaxing, and rewarding. In fact, it’s the most instantly gratifying kind of knitting there is. Even after working a scant ten rows, you can clearly see a motif emerging. As soon as you notice it, you immediately have the feeling of having accomplished something. After all, the whole point of colorwork is what you do with the colors; without that, it’s just plain old stockinette!
Generally speaking, when I knit things, they only come in one, single, absolutely correct color at a time. Once having seen the finished item in my mind’s eye, I’ll go to great lengths to get exactly that color. For the sake of that one perfect skein, I will spend hours upon hours searching for and sourcing from multiple destashes (yarn other people don’t want anymore), hopping around to yarn stores that are hours apart, over-dyeing yarn I am already in possession of, or dyeing and spinning my own yarn, from scratch (which is sometimes easier, and less time consuming!). And that’s just for one skein. When there are multiple colors, plural, in a project, I can easily get caught up for well nigh on a month or more, setting straight every value, tone, and shade before even considering picking up a pair of knitting needles.
Like this hat. It should have been simple; it IS simple. Gloriously simple, in the way only an incredibly well-designed thing can be. And as with so many of my projects, I had a vision. Of fluffy, curly-locked, natural-wool-colored sheep, on a handknit field of some-colors-or-other (the colors of that certain spin-a-long fiber, in particular…), with softly glistening, slightly sparkling, snowy white “snow” yarn falling gently from a cloudless “sky”. Essentially: I excel at making beautifully simple things artfully complicated. Lucky for me, I had the perseverance (and coincidentally had sufficient time during a vacation) to create the yarns of my dreams. Color problems solved!
Then I started knitting.
I’m just going to come out and say right now, that when those Shetland and Fair Islanders hit upon creating elaborate-looking colorwork patterns while only using two colors in any single row, it was – and is – sheer genius. I, on the other hand, in my untried, untested, and inexperienced foray into such things, took a nice three color pattern and inadvertently turned it into a seven color pattern, with five of those colors appearing in a few single rows. Oops./Whee!
On the one hand, the finished product came out great, and I love it, and accompanying mitts are already on the way. On the other hand… well, let’s just say those seven colors made two color knitting seem like a breeze (which it is, really). Truly, carrying five colors wasn’t hard or bad, it was just a lot more like Tetris than I fairly want my knitting to regularly be. And also – I need to have an footnote here about BFL. For some reason, every spinner I know jumps all over BFL (Blue Faced Leicester, a breed of sheep). It’s the “background yarn” in this hat (the “meadow” and the “sky”). Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice fiber to spin, and it dyes very well, and the finished yarn looks great, especially when it has silk added in. I just can’t seem to be able to wear it, except on my head (although, for certain, I’m going to go through the itchy agony to wear these glorious mitts for a few hours at a time, once they’re done). Even just thinking about putting a BFL scarf around my neck makes me squirm; and BFL is soft. I’ve seen people snuggle up in high collared grey masham sweaters and not even twitch. I am amazed by, and envy, those people, and I would spin and knit what I consider “wool with character” for them, all day long. Not so for me. I’ve spent the past several weeks picking stray BFL fibers off of everything I own. Not because they look bad, stuck to whatever they’re stuck to, but because I can feel them, and they’re irritating! I do believe I’m about to become a very picky crafter when it comes to my own skin. The personal wearable wools campaign is ON.
“Take the time to do things with soul and humanity.”
Scented Delights
Necessity, Responsibility, and Spontaneity
This story starts with a broken cell phone. My cell phone; which I unceremoniously flung onto a concrete floor and then accidentally stepped on. In my defense, I was rushing through a pitch black, can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face, barn. Also, I get the impression that everyone who has one of these fangled things does this at least once… right? The good news was: according to the phone plan, I was eligible for an upgrade! The bad news was: I had to wait six more weeks for that to be the case.
Interestingly enough, and to my surprise, during those six weeks I didn’t miss my phone – at all. In fact, I found myself reconnecting with the real world in a way I hadn’t, since– well, since I got a smart phone. No one could text me; no one could call me. For six weeks I exclusively communicated in-person, or via e-mail (which, of course, everyone else gets on their phones). Out of necessity, I found myself planning at least two days in advance for meetings, lunches, dinners, and friends. I could no longer just ‘check up’ on any passing thing I thought of. While waiting for take out, I found I had nothing to do in the restaurant but, well, sit and wait! Also, once I’d made plans for the day – that’s what I did. I wasn’t even once waylaid by a last minute suggestion or temptation to rearrange my entire schedule for someone else’s real or imagined need of me. This, was incredibly fantastic! Oh, the amount of things I got done in a day! I became, quite blissfully, unconnected. And I bet you can imagine, it didn’t take very long for me to start considering not replacing that cell phone. The idea was so tempting, and took such root in my heart, that I threw every excuse in the book at it and managed to stretch those six weeks to ten.
Towards the end of those amazing weeks though, reality started shouting more loudly and more insistently. With family close by, not having a phone didn’t seem very practical. Especially since said family being able to call me, is the primary reason I have a cell phone. Really – they’re the only people who call me.
Ultimately, my sense of responsibility got the better of my passing fantasy of a more Zen-like existence. So this past weekend, off I went to get a new cell phone. With my mother. It should be noted here, that my mother is a master of diversion. If you make it known to her that you have limited time, an agenda, and a deadline, you will suddenly find that you have left your own car (i.e. primary mode of escape) in a random parking lot, and are sitting, captive, in the passenger seat of hers, vaguely remembering that this happened to you last time, and not being able to remember how that turned out.
Subsequently, about 10 minutes into our drive to the phone store, I looked up from whatever magazine article she desperately needed me to read, to discover that we were entering the parking lot for the local Home and Garden show, which just happened to be going on that day, and just happened to be on our way! Naturally, like any good fairgrounds event, the show came with shopping, wine, and sample cocktail smoothies. By the time we left, we’d not only bought herbs for the whole growing season, but had in tow several future Christmas and birthday gifts.
Since it is well known that time does not exist inside concrete buildings, it was now late in the day, and both of us discovered we were incredibly hungry. This led us to the briefest of stops at the phone store (mission accomplished), followed by an incredibly long and complicated quest for a cell phone cover, and – well past dinner-time – finally on to drinks and tapas at a recently discovered wine bar. We must have looked ravenous, or maybe like we just really needed to sit down. Because despite the place being packed, we were treated to Goodfellas style seating (where they bring the table out in pieces, set it up, put a tablecloth on it, furnish it with silverware, plates, and candle, pull over a couple chairs, and turn around and say, “Your table, ladies.” Really – this actually happened.). We spent several more hours of the day there, no doubt on account of the excellent wine. Only as we were leaving did I remember: hey, I have a phone! I called home (with my new phone!), and relayed the news that yes, I knew how late it was, and yes, Mom had happened, and yes, I was alright, and yes, I would be along soon.
The main point of this story being that one of the little plants I nabbed during my unplanned trip to the Home and Garden show was an absolutely darling little hyacinth. When I bought it, its bright green leaves were towering well over the top of the flower buds, which you could just about barely tell were going to be purple. I set it with its herb friends in the only sunny window we have, gave everybody some water, and hoped for the best. The next day, our kitchen smelled nice and green, with all the pretty growing things. Two days later, I came home in the evening from work, and upon opening the door my nose instantly alerted me: the hyacinth had bloomed! Every year, I forget what a truly stunning (and I mean ‘knock-you-over’) smell these little plants produce. This one is absolutely the fastest blooming to date, and might be the strongest scented as well. The fragrance of this one tiny plant has certainly pervaded every room of the house, including the upstairs. It might be my imagination, but I’m starting to be able to get a hint of it even from our front porch! At the moment, the smell has the side effect of making me really want a glass of wine, and some tapas olives… I might have to get another one.
