Knitting Inspiration

Where did September go? This morning, the day of the Fall Equinox, a thunderstorm is in progress, bringing a change in recent warm temperatures. The word equinox originates from two Latin words, aequus meaning equal and nox meaning night. Today the hours of day and night are equal but tomorrow the northern hemisphere begins the turn toward shorter days. Fewer hours of light cool the earth and bring winter to our doorstep. Word origin aside, I am ready to bite into a crisp apple from a local orchard. Autumn is my favorite season. I prefer crisp cool temperatures of sweater weather. I haven't worn any wool socks yet but I will be pulling them on soon.

I read a blog called My Sister's Knitter. I enjoy Andi's photos and notes on knitting and life in general. Last December, a knitter in her Ravelry group created an informal knit along challenge to knit a pair of socks a month in 2015. The idea was to put twelve different skeins of sock yarn into twelve paper bags. Then each month, the knitter chooses a skein to knit a pair of socks. The socks knit from a variety of yarns, patterns, and colors are great inspiration. While I don't knit a pair of socks each month, I usually have a pair in progress. The small project is a good way to fill travel or waiting time. Though I admire the intricate textures and designs, I knit repetitive easy to memorize sock patterns. Having my hands occupied in rote movement frees up my thoughts. I keep small notepads in my knitting bags in order to make notes about a project. Sometimes I set the knitting aside to jot down an idea or thought that becomes part of a poem or at least begin to solve a challenge in a piece of writing.  

Last Saturday evening while listening to Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion, I finished the Frosty Garden Socks. Inspired by Andi's blog, I took a photo of socks I have finished in 2015. Surprisingly, there isn't a blue pair in the pile. I will remedy that soon. Whether my finished objects are poems or socks, reading or looking at them often inspires me. I am not sure what that says about my working style but I am not going to fret about it.

I cast on Shallows cowl in a Hazel Knits yarn to celebrate the autumn season. The color way, henna, reminds me of pumpkin spices and is different from my usual color choices. I have always wanted to knit an autumn colored yarn in the autumn and decided to seize the moment. I also cast on a baby hat. We have another grandchild due in January. Here in Nebraska, that little one is going to need a warm going home from the hospital hat. Now I am off to find a skein of blue sock lingering somewhere in the yarn stash.  

What inspires you?

 

Late Summer Knitting

Labor Day brought a touch of Fall. However, the last few days have been very summery with temps in the high nineties. Evenings I have been knitting with fingering weight yarn. In July, I finished a Shallows Cowl designed by Bonnie Sennott and am working on a sweater called Current by Cecily Glowik Macdonald. Both women are independent designers who use the internet to sell thoughtfully crafted and well written patterns. 

When my grandmother taught me to knit, needlework books and magazines contained projects identified by number. Patterns with corresponding numbers were printed in a separate section of the publication. These books record knitting history and I am glad they continue to be produced. Now and then I buy a hard copy knitting book but I also enjoy the convenience of browsing and buying individual patterns from independent designers.

Regardless of the way patterns are published, designers name them. The names, helpful in marketing, entertain me as well as give me an interesting way to refer to my projects. When sewing this cowl together, I noticed the short section of garter stitch rows rippling like water along the top and bottom of lace sections. The columns of lace resemble stalks of grass and reeds at the edge of a body of water. Sennott, the designer of the cowl, lives in Amherst, Massachusettes and perhaps considered these images when creating the design.

Early August I transitioned into full fledged retirement and began knitting Current, a sweater edged with a cabled rib reminiscent of a meandering stream. Macdonald, from Portland, Maine, might have been thinking about the ocean as she designed the pattern. To me, the word current suggests wind blowing across the Nebraska prairie or water flowing in the channels of the Platte and Elkhorn Rivers.

Some currents run deep and are hidden from view while others are quite visible on the surface of grasses or water. Although both are diverted by rock, sticks, tree branches, and land formations, they continue in a general direction. When the movement of a current increases during heavy rainfall or snow melt, areas of shallow water and/or plants buffer land and leave behind rich silt. The movement and change in currents promotes healthy ecosystems rich with plant and animal life. Kids and adults often enjoy poking around in spaces where land and water meet. These thoughts, meandering around and through this summer's end knitting, carry me into retirement toward cooler autumn weather.

Teacher, What did you learn on your snow days?

Note for non-knitters:  Frogging and frog pond are not terms I created. Frogging is knitting jargon for the process of pulling needles out of all stitches and then tugging on the yarn to rip out a knitted piece. Rip it, rip it, rip it sounds like the ribbit, ribbit, ribbit of frogs. Frogging is faster than tinking back. Tink, knit spelled backwards, is undoing one stitch at a time. It is more tedious but sometimes necessary when repairing mistakes in textured or lace knitting.

During the two snow days last week, I ripped out an entire winter's worth of knitting.  I learned some worthwhile lessons from the frog pond.

1. Although knitting cardigans in one piece is tempting, patterns with more structure suit me better.  Seaming sweater pieces takes time but is not something I will actively avoid in the future.  Even when knitting sweaters in one piece, button bands and some sort of ribbing or edging give a garment more structure and fit.

 Greenfield Cardigan:  When I tried on the body of the sweater, the bottom rippled, the neckline sagged off my shoulders, and the fronts drooped. The leaf motif in the bottom front corners puckered. This pattern make work well for others but I prefer a more fitted sweater. I ripped the entire piece out and saved the yarn for future inspiration.  

2. There are no knitting police. Although the designer intended for one edge of the Deephaven Cowl to curl, I prefer two finished flat edges. I ripped out 8 inches of the cowl and started over with a pattern modification and one size larger needles. Larger needles make the tension in the stitches more comfortable for my hands and wrists. Before casting on the cowl, I tried to knit a vest with the "Prairie Silk" yarn by Brown Sheep. Even though I was knitting the yarn for the third time, it felt as if it had never been used. Brown Sheep Company no longer manufactures this yarn which is all the more reason to savor knitting the cowl. I hope to have enough yarn to make a matching pair of mittens.  

Deephaven Cowl by Blue Peninsula Designs

         

3. I need to learn more about shaping shawls by adjusting short rows. While knitting Twig and Leaf Shawl, I knew I'd run out of yarn before I came to the end of the project. In order to compensate, I increased the the length of short rows by one stitch. Doing this on enough rows to use 400 yards of yarn made an extremely long but narrow crescent shape garment that was neither shawl nor scarf.  I'm sure if I had knit the shawl in lace weight instead of fingering weight AND shaped the shawl as the pattern directed, the result would have been beautiful. The mistake is not the designers but mine. The yarn is too pretty to waste so I  ripped it all out and cast on another scarf.

Shallows by Blue Peninsula Designs

       
4.  Bonnie Sennot, the designer of Blue Peninsula Knits writes an artistic blog.  Her photos and posts are as lovely as her knitwear designs. The blog is inspiring in any weather.

5. Ripping out a winter's worth of knitting wasn't nearly as painful as I anticipated. In fact it is rather freeing. Now, I don't have to soldier on with projects that aren't going to have good results.  I'm just getting more enjoyment for the same amount of yarn money.

6. Knitting is both process and product. This winter my knitting was about process. I wonder if I could be as philosophical about my writing pieces and process. Both require practice, patience, and persistence. The finished products can be lovely and inspiring or frumpy and frustrating. Sometimes yarn is better suited to a soft scarf than a shawl. A piece of writing that begins as an essay ends up as a poem. While editing improves all writing, there are times when it is best to begin again.  

7. Snow day lessons are as tricky as the weather in Nebraska. As an example Storm Q which was predicted to bring as much as 18 - 20 inches dropped six inches instead.