• 6393

    When David mentioned the other day that a co-worker is retiring and they have been wracking their brains trying to think of something to give him, and that his name is quite like a certain Doctor's, to the point that they even call him that at work, it seemed to me that the obvious gift would be the famous Scarf.

    Yes, it's a Fourth Doctor Scarf!  Yes, it's twelve feet long, give or take!  Yes, it's so iconic, so desirable, that it actually has a website dedicated to re-creating it, in a variety of wools to suit, and you can even choose which season's version, since with use and damage and whatnot, the original scarf lost and regained some sections here and there, or you could — seriously geeking out here — make the stunt double!

    Yes, I must be mad — but really, who could resist?  So I am temporarily halting progress on …

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    The Big Bad Blanket (ripped back to what I hope will be the new midpoint, and merely a handspan or so into the second half, though it still goes quite quickly once I actually start knitting).

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    The Mora two-end mittens (back in the ball altogether).

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    The Parley cardigan (halfway up the first sleeve, wh. I started with, doubling as my gauge swatch — you can't quite tell anymore now that it's been stuffed into and taken out of my bag numerous times, but the lower part has been blocked and checked for gauge).

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    The "Greek-Style Georgian" miniature carpet (only a little bit further along than the last time I set it aside — am going to work the rest of the gold shades to see if I run out of anything else before I order more blue).

    In a casually-unscientific calculation, I noted that I worked 12 garter "ridges" of the scarf in a little under a half-hour, so … hmm.  Wish there were sonic knitting needles.

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    But I'm fairly optimistic, and anyway I'm getting a kick out of knitting The Scarf anyway.  I've seen a number of Doctors over the years, but I must admit that my favorite is still Tom Baker.  You never forget your first Doctor, do you!

    Scarf 1

  • 6399

    Some years ago, I made a set of dishcloths for my mother-in-law, on the occasion of her newly-remodeled kitchen.  I found out, a long time afterward, that she hasn't been using them as dishcloths, because she doesn't want to get them dirty, but as potholders instead.  Now, I've never been convinced of cotton's efficacy in keeping one's hands from getting burned, but I like my mother-in-law very much, and if she wants to use them as potholders, let her! say I.  But I decided I would just make her some that are thicker.  When I happened to see on the shelf at Jo-Ann's a cone of Lily Sugar 'n Cream in the reds/oranges/yellows she prefers over pretty much anything else, well, the time was right — and so these are what I have been working on in odd moments over the last few months. 

    Plain old Quaker stitch (though obviously not very "plain" in multicolored ombre!) —

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    Thickish, since the ribs pull the cloth in (especially as it shrinks in the laundry), but it still has some thin spots, of course.

    Double knit with a garter stitch border, short-rowed every few rows per Elizabeth Zimmermann —

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    Better!

    An experiment in double knitting with one side knit-side-out and the other purl-side-out, to see if the purl bumps will give it a little more "grip" when used as a potholder —

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    Very strange, working this stitch with one side inside-out!

    Ribbed crochet following the admirably clear tutorial from Anneliese of Aesthetic Nest, with the idea of stitching two pieces together from Kathleen here —

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     This one was an adventure, as I am not a good crocheter, so I made a few attempts at other stitches which didn't turn out good enough to give away (!), but the photos in this tutorial are very helpful, and the ribbed crochet gave good results even for me.  I made it a little longer than in the instructions, since I find that the cloths always shrink heighth-wise.  Stitching the two pieces together wasn't quite as tidy as I'd hoped but — oh, well.  It is nevertheless quite the thickest of the lot so far.

  • 6375

    Here is my first historical knit of the year, and very timely it is, too, as the weather here can be quite cold at the moment (for southern California, mind), and in fact has gone all gloomy this morning, so a pair of warm cuffs is just the thing.  I wanted to make something with that lovely Blue-faced Leicester wool, though at DK weight it is considerably thicker than the original "four-thread Berlin wool" (The helpful article "Everyone His Own Knitting Needles" by Colleen Formby tells us that four-thread Berlin is equivalent to modern fingering weight) — but the British Blue is a pleasure to knit with, from start to finish, and I don't mind compromising a bit now and then, especially since I am also being economical by using what is on hand!

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    The Godey's page shows how very basic old knitting patterns were — I mean, yes, it's pretty obvious that you would have to bind off at some point (!), but it doesn't tell you how long to make the cuffs, to put the top border on, or to sew it up.  It's pretty generous of them, in fact, judging by a number of historical knitting patterns I've seen, just to tell the knitter what size needles to use.

    Winter cuffs godeys 1861

    The cuffs are fairly obviously knitted flat, by the double knitting instructions.  But I really don't much care for seams on my hands, so I worked my cuffs in the round, since of course this was well-known in 1861.  I can understand why this particular pattern isn't though, since double-knitting in the round nearly makes me tear out my hair.  Knitting the first attempts — and I made numerous ones, trying to get the sizing right in this gauge — I said, "Gaahhh!" more times working these things than in all my life up to this point, I guess.

    Over an even number of sts:

    • Round 1: *K1, sl 1 p-wise wyif, rep from * to end.
    • Round 2: *Sl 1 k-wise wyib, P1, rep from * to end.

    For a long time, my brain just did not want to slip a knit stitch and work a purl one.  This was not "mindless knitting," to be sure! I ended up having to stop murmuring to myself, "slip one, purl one, slip one purl one" since even though I was actually saying it, after a few minutes my fingers would just knit the stitch I was supposed to be slipping — I had to stop thinking about the slipped stitches entirely, and just say "purl, [get the next one out of the way], purl, [get the next one out of the way]".  It's also surprisingly difficult to tell which round you are on, since once you have moved the working yarn around to wherever it's supposed to be for the next stitch, the just-worked stitches compress and you can't really tell unless you really interrogate it whether you just worked it or slipped it.

    I couldn't help remembering Elizabeth Zimmermann saying in The Knitter's Almanac that double knitting always seemed to her "though fascinating, a great waste of time," because each stitch has to be handled twice, either knitting it or slipping it, then vice versa on the next row.  "The result is a rather charming tube of stocking-stitch, which occasionally sticks together where you made a mistake".  She does admit, though, that double knitting is light and fluffy, which she of course would have understood is because of the slipping process, since it stretches the stitch a little bit lengthwise — this makes one's gauge a bit larger than regular stockinette would be even on the same needles, but does give the fabric that soft fluffiness.

    To compensate for this difference in gauge, Elizabeth always casts on far fewer stitches for the edging and increases to size for the double-knitted section.  I suspect that the reason the Godey's pattern calls for such a large number of cast-on sts relative to the double-knitted section is because if you use a smaller number for the garter edges, you will have to work a more-than-usually stretchy cast-on and an exceptionally stretchy bind-off, otherwise you won't be able to get the cuffs over your hands!  But I like a snug cuff, and so having learned the lesson early from Elizabeth, I went with her suggestion to cast on half the number of sts required, so that the cuff fitted smoothly but not tightly.

    I ended up casting on 30 sts in crochet cast-on with the white wool, working 6 rnds of garter st (not 4, it just looked better with another ridge), with purple Kfb on every st, then 50 rnds of double knitting, then with white dec'd every other st (with an SSK because it looked better, disguising the decrease rnd), then 5 more rnds garter, and finally a suspended bind-off to match the crochet cast-on.  (It's curious that although the British Blue must be considerably heavier than a fingering-weight "four-thread Berlin", my double-knitted section is only 6 sts fewer than the original larger size!)  And as it happened, I set this down for a few weeks, and then when I picked it up again my fingers seemed to suddenly get the hang of double-knitting in the round, and I managed to whip out each cuff in merely hours.

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    I was tempted, though in the end I did not, to make a vertical buttonhole a few rounds from the top of the double knitting section, so that the cuffs could be worn as muffatees if so desired — I think this would also be an appropriate period variation, and I might make another pair later and incorporate the idea.

    (Double knitting in the round with one strand of yarn, by the way, produces a tube except at the beg/end of the round.  Because the wool must be moved from one side to the other, it will necessarily have to go across the inside of the "tube" at this point.  There is also a slight ladder here, so I would advise taking these into consideration also, when deciding whether or not to work it in the round.)

    The new badge is a painting called "Old Woman Knitting" (ca.1882) by Thomas Eakins.  I don't find anything more about it online — I wonder if it was an oil sketch for a proposed, more finished, painting, hence the grid.  I like it very much the way it is.

    Histknit2017 button 2

    The Project: "Winter Cuffs in Double Knitting"
    Year or Period: 1861
    Materials: 2 skeins British Blue Wool (pure Blue-faced Leicester) in Milk (white) and French (greyish purple), 2.5mm needles
    Hours to complete: 29 January and 31 January 2017 (a day for each cuff!)
    How historically accurate is it? I think my modifications are quite within the bounds of what a period knitter might do with the wool she had in hand, except for the gauge of the British Blue and possibly the suspended bind-off
    Sources/Documentation: Godey's Lady's Book and Magazine, no.62-63 (1861), p.164 (the pattern is reproduced in full in the image in this post)

  • 6363

    Well, the Mora mitten is back in the ball — wh. by the way was not a simple matter, since of course it's a center-pull ball, and I think my first attempt at coping with this will probably not be successful, which was winding another center-pull ball with the ripped-out portion and shoving it back into the original center.  It doesn't pull out easily at all, even though I figured theoretically this should work.  We'll see.  It wasn't as onerous as I feared, taking the two-end knitting apart, but perhaps that was because I hadn't actually worked far enough to make two separated piles of kinky wool an issue.  It's good to notice your mistakes early! (she said dryly).

    (Am relieved to see, by the way, that the amount of dyed wool needed for this particular mitten is barely one arm's length.  I'm hoping to use the rest of this Black Cherry-dyed length, wh. is roughly the size of a golf ball, for a bit of color-work on a fingerless pair with the second skein of the Mora wool…)

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    I did start the Parley cardigan last night, while the Mora wool is resting.  I didn't even look at other colors of the Briggs & Little when I ordered it (though I see now there are quite a lot), just thought to myself "yes, that one!" —

    2644_galezuckerBook_medium2

    — which is Mulberry, here in one of the photos from the book.  I was having hard time capturing the color the other day and thought I would have to do lots of fiddling, whether by adjusting the camera settings or "fixing it in post", but it seems to have come out all right this morning, so perhaps the gloom is not such a bad thing!

  • 913mwXK1pTL._SL1500_-677x1024

    Obviously, I have been out of touch with much mainstream news for a few years — mostly by choice, mind — but I am very glad to have come across the true story of Saroo Brierley at last.  Some truly terrifying things happen to this little boy, inadvertently separated from his big brother at a train station deep in India and transported to the other side of the country, where — at the age of five — he manages somehow to survive long enough on the streets of one of the most unforgiving cities in the world, to be taken in by an orphanage and not long after adopted out to a loving couple in Australia.  But Saroo remains, then and now, such a hopeful, grateful soul that although I was in tears for much of the book, it serves as a reminder, in these disturbing times, of how good people can be.

    There is nothing about this story that is not amazing.  Saroo's own determination, the Brierleys' love, his Indian family's warmth and especially his mother's generosity towards the Brierleys, Mrs. Sood's kindness and dedication to the orphans of Calcutta, even the unknown homeless man who pulled little Saroo out of the river not once but twice, and the unknown teen who cared enough to take Saroo to the police station (from where he eventually was taken to Mrs. Sood at the orphanage) — all of these are evidence that there is good in this world even when you are lost.  The outcome of the story is never in doubt, as we know from the start that the adult Saroo will find his home and family in India at last, but the simple, uncomplicated way that he tells it makes it all the more absorbing.

    Here is the original Australian "60 Minutes" segment about Saroo's journey —

  • 6294

    I started the Mora mittens on Wednesday — it's slow-going, this two-end knitting, and the Mora Z-ply wool is rather a different beast from S-ply.  I expected the two-end process to require regular untwisting, which it does (I usually do this twice every round), but each strand is also untwisting itself as I knit, which means that quite often, it isn't really a "two-ply" yarn but "two plies lying next to each other", which makes it worm up on itself.

    Then I was knitting blithely on, thinking I'm getting the hang of it and feeling pleased with myself, as one does, when I realized, looking at the gusset edging, that the purl stitches didn't stand out nearly as much as I expected them to.  I kept going for a few rounds thinking it might get better, but it didn't, so I looked at the instructions more closely — you can see where this is going, I expect — and discovered that I thought I knew how to make a purl stitch, but for the two-ended version, you don't just bring the yarn round to the front, purl, then take the yarn back, you have to bring it round a stitch earlier then take it back a stitch later, which gives you that little swoop on either side.  So I ripped the mitten back an inch or so — although not far enough, as it turns out, since you can see at the bottom part of the gusset edging in the photo above that it looks a little uncertain just there.  It was a real bother ripping it out, because of course you work from a center-pull ball, and you can't just shove the center strand back in — so I used a tip I'd seen somewhere, and stuck a spare double-pointed needle across the entry-point for the center strand, and butterflied both strands around that using the needle as a sort of cleat.

    This morning when I looked at it in a rare patch of brilliant sunshine, I realized that, yes, the hook stitches I'd done earlier, around the cuff, were exactly the same — viz., wrong.

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    See? they should all have that little swoop, similar to the chain path just above.  So I'm waiting a little this morning to make up my mind whether to rip it back to the beginning of the damask pattern and use the cleat trick to avoid rewinding, or just take the whole thing out completely and rewind the ball properly.  The first option might be more trouble than it's worth, but would (at least today) keep me from feeling like I've wasted all this time, but the second option would, in addition to having a properly-wound center-pull ball, also give me the opportunity to try and smooth out some tension blobs here and here.

    On the bright side, I'm very happy with the cast-on, now that I've figured it out, wh. I must admit took some doing.  I will post some step-by-step pictures when I get to that point later.  It looks remarkably like the cast-on edge on the half-mittens in the Nordiska Museet, so that's a good sign!

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    NM.0023981A-B cropped

  • Red and White

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    The Mora mittens have a cast-on detail in red wool, so yesterday I wound off about 20 yards of the wool and dyed it with a packet of Black Cherry Kool-Aid.  I admit that I was hoping it would have a little more purple in the red, but the result is still a beautiful, intense color, and will look very handsome against the white mittens.

    I've put a new album in the side-bar to keep a record of my dyeing experiments — I must say, it's quite fun, watching the wool change, and it was so interesting that I got out a bit of leftover crewel wool and did a "kettle-dye" experiment with a packet of Lemonade …

  • NM.0001043A-B

    The description of this lovely pair of twined-knitted mittens says that they were given to the museum by a Dr. Hazelius in 1873, who "got them many years ago from a Mora girl" — a Morakulla, which is the same word used to describe many of the young women in Anders Zorn's paintings, as well as this one by Emelie von Walterstorff —

    NM.0191807

    Ever since my first steps in two-end knitting, I've been dreaming about the Mora wool from Nancy Bush at The Wooly West, and so with my Christmas money I splurged on two skeins. This is Swedish Z-ply wool — apparently especially suited to two-end knitting because of the way the twist lies — so I'm looking forward to making Nancy's pattern from the Winter 2010 issue of "Knitting Traditions", with enough left over for the Ormsta wristwarmers!

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    NM.0070938A-B

    Plain mittens in sheep's wool (fårull), from the village of Vinäs in Mora parish.  This well-used pair was acquired by the museum in 1891.  (I wonder what the hook-and-eye are for …?)

    NM.0023981A-B

    The museum gives surprisingly little information about this pair in beautiful condition, except that they were acquired in 1879 as part of an ethnographic collection.  These are halvvantar, half-mittens.

    NM.0020256A-B

    This elegant pair of Mora vantar were given to the museum in 1877 by the committee for Sweden's participation in the World Exposition — it doesn't specify which one, but I'm assuming the one in Philadelphia the year before.

    NM.0120945A-K

    Clearly two-end-knitted, but wildly different from the others.  According to a post by Lars ("Baritono") of Lappone, this kind of mitten was probably knitted to sell as souvenirs.  (I think that not only because the Dalarna region, having kept their traditional costumes as everyday wear longer than most Swedish regions, was especially picturesque, but also because of Carl Larsson, Dalarna was particularly popular with tourists.)

    These images of Mora vantar — mittens from Mora parish in Dalarna — are all from DigitaltMuseum.se.

  • 6087

    I realized around late-mid-December that I wasn't going to have this ready by Christmas after all, and so I slowed down knitting, and then I got sick after Christmas, so it wasn't going to be done by New Year's either.  I picked it up again a week or so ago, knitted steadily, and it seemed somehow as though the balls of wool were getting smaller and smaller, but the blanket wasn't getting any bigger.  How can that be?

    And then I thought yesterday afternoon, "Uh-oh, it isn't my imagination.  This isn't going to make it."  It didn't.  After taking this photo, I got to the end of one ball, about thirty rows short — all of the border and a bit of the main pattern. Blast it — this was by weight!  I knitted until a little over half of the advertised 226g was left, so it should have worked, or at the very least gotten a lot closer than this.

    (And, no, it isn't just the perspective, that ball in front really is considerably bigger than the other one.)