New Knitter

Last week we spent a few days with cousins down in Swansea.  I was swatching, and my seventeen year old nephew watched a while and said, "that's so cool . . . can I try?".  But of course.  Poke in here, wrap around, pull it forward, slip it off.  Poke in here, wrap around, pull it forward, slip it off.

We went into Newport the next day and I grabbed a hank of Cascade 220 and a pair of size 8's at 'Knitting Needles' on Thames Street.  We also toured the Vanderbilt's Breakers Summer Home - no pictures allowed, but I tried to mentally file away every textile I saw.  (My husband got in trouble with the staff for touching too much in a do-not-touch establishment.)

When we got home I gave my nephew a knitting lesson, and off he went.  This new knitter has epilepsy, the kind where his day is interrupted with petit mal seizures*, sometimes a bunch of them, sometimes a few of them.  Many of the things we take for granted are challenging or unsafe for him - riding a bicycle, swimming, climbing busy stairs in school, crossing a city street.  All the while he glides along with tremendous grace, humor, and popularity.  His medications give his hands tremors, and he presses on like a champion,  poke in ...here, wrap around, pull it ...forward, slip it off.

*brief spells of vacant stare and mild shaking - his needles safely stay put in his hands.

I do believe this is some of the best, most tenacious knitting I've seen.

Dye Time

Summertime is the perfect time for outdoor dyeing.  I set up our propane burner and get out the ole dyepot, and it's hard to stop.

The blue and the gold yarn shown here are a blend of llama and cheviot wool that comes from my brother-in-law's flock. More about his Riverbank Farm here. His fleeces are spun at MacAusland's Woollen Mill on Prince Edward Island.

The red yarn is also from my brother-in-law, but it is a bulky spun from the cheviots only.  It started creamy white and I dyed it bright red.  These mittens were knit last fall with the same.  I was hoping for a more intense red, so I overdyed the remaining wool with more red, some orange, and a splash of purple.  The purple yarn is some Bartlett I bought years ago from my neighbor (it started yellowy tan), and I've since dyed it twice.  Done now.

My husband wanted to be working in the back yard too, so he got out my Dad's rock drill* and made a favorite new home for my laundry line.  When I was a kid my Dad fed a pipe for an outdoor spigot through the back of a huge rock at our camp, so we had water coming out of a rock.  Now I have a laundry line out of a rock!

*My Dad bought the rock drill and used it a few times, but his true delight came from scheming with my husband which rocks to drill and split, and then supervising the work.

I'll be running a drop-in-and-dye demo/workshop all weekend at Fiber College in September.  Bring your bedraggled yarns that are lingering unloved in the back of the stash and I'll show you how to transform them into your new favorites!

Reconstruction

I am working on a sweater that is knit from the top down with set-in sleeves that are knit simultaneously.  I see other folks working sleeves from the top down using short row construction after the yoke is complete, and their work looks tidy and well thought out.  Somehow, that process feels fiddly to me, and my results are a little sloppier than I care to admit.  So simultaneous it is.  I love the concept that it can actually be done.

Mathematically the armscye is really interesting.  I'm afraid I've spent more time exploring the math of the armscye than is socially acceptable.  In my head (and on my computer) I have knit several sweaters lately, ranging in sizes 30 to 52 in 2 inch increments.

This sweater is about to go under the knife.  I'm not satisfied with the transition from the saddle to the top of the sleeve cap.  It is a lace issue, not so much an armscye issue.  I am crazy about the twisty lace running down the sleeve - I call it Waves and Spray.  The lace has to be narrowed down to fit on the saddle of the smallest size - I can do a better job than what I've done here.  It does not read well currently.

The yarn: Nash Island Light in finch.  Oh my Stars.  New England wool with grip, but no chaffe.  It is the drape and texture that I search for in a knitted fabric. 

On my ipod: Marly Bird's podcasts.  Thank you Marly for making my time on the treadmill fly by.  Your interviews are engaging and upbeat, and you motivate me to get moving.  Not sure how I'll cope when I run out of podcasts ...

To be clear, I was not wearing the one-armed unfinished woolen sweater while on the treadmill in July.

So I have a question: what armhole style works best for you and why?  What do you not want in an armhole? (besides say, a leg).

Happy Independence Day!

Our local parade is always a joy to watch, especially on a beautiful day.



My boys



If ever you're in the Town of Wolfeboro on a Wednesday night in the Summer, the Cate Park Band plays from 7 pm until 9.  Bring a chair and enjoy a cool breeze off the Lake, a fantastic vanilla soft serve from The Dockside, and a big band having a good ole time in the gazebo (they're having trouble squeezing the growing band into the gazebo - it has become a popular pastime).

Another not-to-be-missed place in Wolfeboro is the Wright Museum, a collection of World War II artifacts including letters, homefront living items, uniforms for folks at home and soldiers, some knitted items and references to the role knitting played, posters and photos, and a huge fleet of working vehicles.  The parade always runs a few of them.

 

Here in New Hampshire we have the opportunity to meet our Presidential candidates in person.  I have taken advantage of this privilege many times.  Today I didn't even have to go out of my way.  Well Hello! 

The guys with the curly wires behind their ears - I wonder if they're ever able to relax.  I'm surely not cut out for their work.  



Does Not Share Well

 

I have a backlog of stories to share. Today I'll start with the tale of a trip to Nash Island. 

Early in June, Mary Jane Mucklestone and I trekked up to South Addison, a sleepy little village way, way up and out on the rocky coast of Maine.  Jani Estell, of Starcroft Fiber Mill, is staying there in the village until her new (close-by) digs and mill are ready for habitation.  MJ and I were there as helping hands for the annual Sheep Shearing of the flock on Nash Island, Jani's source of wool for the year.

Jani is lodging in the former home of Jenny Cirone, the original shepherdess of Nash Island.  Her dooryard is filled with the sheep that are voted off the island.  It's the Land of Misfit Sheep -- some with odd gaits, some with odd dispositions, some really young and adorable, and some super old and decrepit.

About thirty folks (and 2 lambs - bottle feeding still) loaded up on lobster boats early in the morning, then leaped onto the shores of Nash Island. 

We were instructed on how to gently herd the sheep into the corral as a large human chain, no dogs involved.  Rubber boots required.  Seagulls complaining, and maybe you can see why.

Jenny started the flock a long time ago, and has since passed away and left the care and traditions to the Wakeman Family of South Addison.  The Wakemans are a wonder to watch.  They are warm and friendly, kind and approachable, and the hardest working people I've met in a dog's year.

After a delicious breakfast, the work of sheep flipping, shearing, poop sequestering, skirting, and wool sorting began.  The job of the shearer is exhausting, Herculean.  Three women, Eleni, Geri, and Donna, spent the entire day bent at the hips, gently (wo)manhandling the 104 sheep at their feet, clipping them free of a year of wool.

  

Mid-day we had a good hand scrubbing with water warmed in a black pipe in the sun, and huge delectable meal served by the Wakeman family elders - soup, coffee, homemade mac and cheese, stews, gorgeous salads, bread, cake, cookies, homemade pie.  I was stuffed to stupid.  Then the shearers and flippers and skirters and poop scoopers got back to work.

Mary Jane

The loot was bagged and loaded, and all the gear packed up like clockwork, then shuttled out to the waiting lobsterboats.  People and lambs, too.  We chugged back to the mainland and all the wool was moved to Jani's temporary barn for safe keeping.



Leah Estell loading up a passenger

Thank you kindly to the Estell Family and the Wakeman Family for prompting me to start a bucket list in my head.  I have just checked off the first item on my list, and I hope to be able to do it again.  It was a stellar day.

Grand Weekend Out

Me-e-eh, a photo by odacier on Flickr.

Last weekend I had a grand weekend out. 


Friday: the Annual Salvation Army Fabric sale in Portland.  I scored some sweet red calico and a big ole pile of old crafty books.  A woman in the fray asked where the books were - I vaguely gestured with my arm, "over there".  If I were a better person I would have said, "right here in my cart, sorry, you're too late".  My Sister and my Mom came away with nothin' but memories, and GirlfRindy came away with a buxsom dressform.  If you've never been, it's worth a trip, especially if you're a quilter (which I am not).


Saturday: New Hampshire Sheep and Wool.   It was a gorgeous day filled with old friends, new friends, guild friends, family friends.  Thea and Emily were so kind to share their day with me - we had a blast talking to the sheep, shopping the sweet smelling yarns, and showing new sweaters.  Thea has a darling and versatile new one, Charleston Tea, go see!  My Fannie Fouche is all knit and was displayed at Ball and Skein, pattern is  a l m o s t  complete, and will be tested asap.


Saturday evening was the Prom for my Senior (there are some photos in my flickr).  I chaperoned the after party, which meant a four-wheeling adventure in the dark to our woods camp.  I took my husband's truck - he outfitted it with a mattress in the back and a huge flashlight.  I brought some of my new old books and drifted off to the sounds of kids around a campfire. 


Fun, rapidfire.  I slept plenty on Sunday.

Rabbit Hole

Currently I am working on a design that has been my best learning experience ever as a knitter, no, as a pattern writer, no, as a learner. Fannie Fouche has been written and rewritten so many times I've lost track.  I'm knitting the body for the third time.  The Providence yarn (Ball and Skein) has been incredibly patient and resilient.  I have reskeined it and soaked it in some Eucalan to remove the ramen noodle effect, and it is good as new.

I am deep, deep in the rabbit hole of armscye math : the construction, shape, grading and proportion. It is embarrassing to admit how fascinating it is.  I had the pleasure of chatting with Amy Herzog recently (she was a guest presenter at our guild meeting), and she seemed to understand my excitement, that or she's a brilliant (and polite) actress.

I have written a pattern algorithm for myself, a series of questions that determine how many stitches and rows are needed at any particular location on a set-in sleeve sweater.  The algorithm talks to the pattern template, which is written in CorelDraw : I can change the gauge in the algorithm, and all the numbers in the finished pattern change accordingly.  See why I'm so thrilled?  Tons of work up front, but the next time I want to write a pattern with this construction method it should go smoothly (she innocently and whistfully typed as the Pattern Gods chuckled heartily).

Fannie Fouche is constructed from the top down.  It has set-in sleeves that are knit at the same time as the yoke.  Why?  Because we can.  I am confident there are knitters up to the task. I am continually amazed at today's knitter : their Ravelry page states "just learned to knit last year", their project pages have fourteen pairs of lace socks, and they're on Sweater Seven of their Twelve-Sweaters-in-a-Year-Challenge ... in April.