• Drysdale 20

    This pattern is number 20 from Rosemary Drysdale's The Art of Blackwork Embroidery, adapted a little in that I shifted each line of medallions so that they nested together a little and left less white space.

    Drysdale 14

    Drysdale's pattern 14.  This one seemed to take forever; I don't know if that is why I don't like it as much as I thought I would, or if it just doesn't speak to me as much as some of the others, but there it is.  Perhaps it's too modern -looking?!

    Neue modelbuch 1 in progress

    This one is lifted from Alina Silverthorne's "Chalice stockings", in turn being a pattern from Ein New Modelbuch [sic] of 1526.  Unlike the very-fiddly pattern #14 above, for example, this one is completely in Holbein stitch, and if I'd taken a little care would be completely reversible.  It says Catherine-of-Aragon to me — I'm not sure why, perhaps the rather severe Catholic look to it?  Those Spaniards!

    This was fun to work in a daring sort of way, in that the first pass — every other stitch showing, as it were — requires understanding how the pattern will look when finished without actually seeing the whole thing as you work it.  The first pass thus looks like a set of bird tracks in the snow.  The second pass was only a matter of connecting the dots, though!

    Neue modelbuch 1

    (All of these samples are worked in one strand of black embroidery floss on 28-count Monaco cotton.)

    And here are two contemporary examples of blackwork on garments —

    Simon_George,_by_Hans_Holbein_the_Younger

    Simon George of Cornwall, by Holbein ca.1533, a lovely little work now in the Städelsches Kunstinstitut in Frankfurt.  His considerable technical mastery aside, Holbein's people always look so utterly real to me that I find it impossible not to be fascinated by them.

    Mary nevil lady dacre

    "Mary Nevill, Lady Dacre?" ca.1545–1549, by an unknown artist; also known as "The Wrest Park Portrait" from its former location, and also identified as Lady Jane Grey.  J. Stephan Edwards at Some Grey Matter writes convincingly and at length on his re-identification of this portrait as Lady Dacre.

  • Poring over my copy of Nancy Bush's Folk Socks of an evening — as one does — I thought that I would do some "school socks", fairly simple socks that use these different heels and toes.

    Crocuses 1

    Camo 3

    First, a pair in Loops & Threads Luxury Sock in the "Crocuses" color, with a Dutch heel and star toe.

    Loops and threads luxury sock crocuses 1
     
    The first pair is in the new Luxury Sock yarn from Michael's.  It is very soft, rather limp with the bit of cashmere, but pleasant to knit with.  There was a partial splice in the first ball, insignificant enough that I could winkle the ends back into the twist.  The second ball, though, had an actual knot in it, towards the bottom of the leg, and then this —

    IMG_1314_small

    I was going along swimmingly, very pleased with myself that I'd matched the color changes perfectly, when near the end of the heel flap I realized that I'd been knitting with white for nearly an arm's-length of yarn.  Not only was the blue-and-white section incomplete color-wise, it was shortened by nearly half.  The photo is slightly misleading, as I didn't notice that Laura had pulled the second sock higher, but you can see quite clearly that the blue-and-white band is only half the depth it should be.  (The colors are a bit brown in this photo: what looks like brick is more of a dusty rose in real life.)

    So I ripped back the heel and whacked off an entire color repeat to get back to the right spot, and carried on.  When I got to the end of the second toe, I looked at the finished sock, and lo and behold the repeats were off again.  Now this may have been my fault, as in comparing the two socks I notice that the second is noticeably narrower, and even slightly shorter!  (This is an instance of where knitting two socks at the same time would be a good idea, as apparently my gauge on the second sock was considerably tighter.)

    IMG_1355_small

    So I ripped out half of the foot,  back to the start of the next-to-last blue-and-white band, and worked it again v-e-r-y l-o-o-s-e-l-y, counting the rows in each band to make sure that the second sock was exactly the same row count and color match as the first one.

    This is how much was left over from the middle of the second ball:

    IMG_6014_small

    The top bit is due to pulling off a length in order to start at the same spot in the color sequence; the bottom (5 grams!) is due to the defect.  Perhaps this is why there is a good 15g more in each ball than you need for a generously-sized pair of socks?

     Loops and threads luxury sock crocuses 2

    As I said, it's a pleasant yarn, although while inexpensive, at $5.99 it isn't what I'd call cheap, and so I would expect a little more than knots and color flaws in it.

    Crocuses 2

    The Dutch heel is quite simple, and Bush's instructions worked like a charm.  I did the heel flap in a sl 1, K1 fabric, and kept this through the heel turn, which was quite easily done and I'm told will make the heel that much sturdier.  (In the photo just above, the sl-st section continues along through the purple section downwards from the flap, and into the first part of the blue-and-white section.)  The cashmere content seems to make the yarn feel a little fragile, so I'm hoping that the extra thickness here will counteract that.  The heel itself is a bit more square than the heel I usually use — which is in fact called a round heel — but this isn't really obvious once it is on my foot.

    The star toe is also quite simple, and fits my squared-off toes nicely.  (I don't know why there is a little jog in the decreases line in the purple section there…?)  This toe is especially easy if you use 5 dpns, as the decreases are spaced a quarter of the way along each round, and will thus come at the end of each needle without having to resort to markers or counting in the first round.

    Crocuses 3

    Laura modelled both of these socks for me this afternoon.  She pulled on the Kroy pair first, and said, "Mom, there's something wrong with the heel."  The Luxury ones, she is still wearing an hour later, despite the heat wave.  (This is saying something, even more than you'd think, as she has declined politely to wear knitted socks at all for at least a year.)

    The second pair are in Paton's Kroy FX in "Camo Colors", with a German heel and wedge toe.

    Kroy fx camo

    I don't like this wool much at all, as it is very scratchy even after washing, although I don't notice it quite so much when wearing as I did while knitting with it.  (I shall be generous and call it "bargain wool", as it is about half the price of the Luxury Sock.)  It is, however, thick and quite warm. I might have better used 2.5mm needles, as the fabric is a bit stiff.

    Camo 1

    The German heel is also fairly simple, and went together easily with Bush's instructions — so far my Becher's Brook is the Welsh one, it seems.  I did a plain flap with no reinforcement — I think this wool will wear like iron anyway (she said grimly).

    Camo 2

    Both the Dutch and the German heels are essentially a square and a small rectangle, the sides of which rectangle (the turn) are joined to one side of the square (the flap).  This is noticeably different from the round heel, which is a square (the flap) with a triangle (the turn).  This construction makes both of these heels more squared-off than the round heel, and a good choice, I would think, especially for those wearers whose heel sits low to the ground.

    Heel geometry

    The German heel doesn't allow for much of a gusset, though, at least not at this gauge — there were only 2 extra stitches after picking up! — and so I did not work the decreases as P2tog as in Bush's versions, since it looked more like a mistake than a line of purl decreases.  To get a teeny bit of length, though, I did work 2 plain rounds before the decrease round, and another 2 plain between the second (last) dec round.

    The heel itself, though, is exactly as written by Bush.  It is very square in shape, and the angle of heel to foot is much sharper than with the round heel.  This is quite noticeable in the feel of the sock, especially compared with the much more subtle round heel.  (You can see in the picture of the socks laid flat, how much more square it is.)  I was looking for a difference when I put it on, of course, but even Laura noticed it right away.  It isn't bad, mind, only not quite as fitted as some; this could be adapted a little by making the turn a few stitches narrower, perhaps, or working it in a softer wool that molds more readily to the foot inside, or at a finer gauge altogether.

    This toe is a wedge toe.  I did one of Bush's variations, which proved to be too pointed for my substantial feet, and so I pulled it out and used my standard wedge, lifted from Grumperina's "Jaywalkers".

    Camo 4

    And there are still four more heels in Bush's book!

  • Harding chester - Mrs. Abbott Lawrence (Katherine Bigelow) - ca1855

    "Mrs. Abbott Lawrence, née Katherine Bigelow", around 1855, by Chester Harding (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston), found via Katherine at One More Stitch.

    The face you would not be surprised to see on some small-town parson, and so it is a little disconcerting to see it surrounded by delicate ringlets and fine lawn.  Is the look in those black eyes gentle or stern?  What is she knitting that is so red against her severe black dress?  Her face is rather hard and her back unforgivingly straight, and yet her feet sticking out like that give her a curious casualness.  The Gothic chair and the homely little dog-like workbasket only add to the ambiguity.

  • Testing, Testing —

    Loops & threads crocuses

    "Luxury Sock" in the Crocuses colorway, from the new Loops & Threads line of yarns from Michaels.  Has anyone tried it?  It's either so new that it isn't on the website yet, or they are being really quiet about it.  The URL on the ballband leads to a page that is spectacularly uninformative.

    This sock yarn is a 60% merino superwash, 30% nylon, 10% cashmere blend — very fine, very soft.  I was rather dismayed to read the fine print when I got it home, that says "hand wash only", as I am really not into handwashing socks — I had assumed from the superwash and nylon content that it would be machine-washable.

    The ballband gauge is 32 sts on 2.75mm/US2 — I am getting that but on 2mm needles (I generally have to go down one size needles, though).

    This was the most sedate colorway, by the way!  And no solids…

  • So we lived in Hong Kong for a while a few years ago, right?  We passed the cemetery in Happy Valley any number of times on the way into town.

    So I have family from Pike County, Illinois, some generations back.

    Who would have thought that these two would ever coincide?

    42754053_125481859658

    Thanks to another wonderful researcher at Findagrave.

  • IMG_1242_small

    Last night I sewed some pillowcases for the girls with fabric I'd originally bought for carry-all totes but realized was not really enough for a good-sized bag.  There wasn't enough of the print to make full pillow-cases, so I used the solids (which I'd bought for lining the bags) and pieced them onto the ends of the cases.  The proportions are not really what I'd do on purpose, as it were, but needs must and all.  I was rather pleased with myself that there is not a raw edge visible anywhere, as the edging is folded over inside and out to meet the patterned fabric, and the seams are all French.  Finished size 20×30 inches (51×76 cm).

    David came in from a bike ride this morning and said, "I really shouldn't tell you this, but there's a garage sale around the corner with lots of yarn."  "Lots" didn't really describe it, either.  Boxes and boxes and boxes, plus ribbons (cloth and gift), laces and other notions, dozens of hats.  The lady said that her mother had just moved into an assisted-living place, and she's been cleaning out the condominium.  "The craft stuff will be out tomorrow morning."  It was a little sad to think about, really, what we leave behind.

    I bought a half-dozen balls of kitchen cotton for new dishcloths, and this length of woven ribbon, which I don't really have a plan for, but I liked the colors and that it was pretty from both sides —

    IMG_1236_small

    Last week I read The Wilder Life by Wendy McClure, a memoir about seriously geeking out on Laura Ingalls Wilder and the "Little House" books.  I say that with about 30% gentle revulsion — you know, the way you draw your skirts in a little — and 70% secret envy that I haven't done all of the things McClure has.  Having grown up, like so many of us did, feeling somehow a part of Laura Ingalls's life through her books, McClure succumbed to the temptation to try some of the things that Laura experienced — wearing a sunbonnet, making candy by pouring maple syrup in the snow, twisting hay into sticks, churning butter — and to visit all of the places where Laura lived.  The book is actually more serious in places than I thought it would be, and McClure has some interesting things to say about Rose and the contentions that it was actually she who did most of the writing, as well as about why we continue to find the books so compelling.  But she is also at times laugh-out-loud funny — you can tell that she, too, has that mixture of revulsion and fascination when she comes across some real "Little House" um, aficionados — although, in an appealing way, much more often her humor is about her own self-admitted dorkiness.

    I also learned something I hadn't known before, that Almanzo is not pronounced, as I have for years assumed, all-MON-zo.  There is in fact a recording of Laura herself in later life — she sounds, I thought rather wistfully, like someone's Midwest grandma (like my Midwest grandma) — and she says the name almost as though it were two words, the first rhyming with "pal", Al MAN-zo.  (This is so obviously where Royal's nickname for his brother, "Manny", and Laura's own nickname for him, "Manly", came from that I wonder it didn't occur to me before, but it is still going to take some serious mental adjustment.)

    And just because I like the idea of seeing the faces behind the stories, here are some photos of the Ingallses —

    Charles and caroline ingalls

    Pa and Ma, Charles and Caroline Ingalls.  I don't know the date — perhaps someone else does — but Ma looks fairly young.  Pa's beard always surprises me, as it is completely out of my own experiences of beards, as well as nothing like the Garth Williams illustrations.  I might like the second photo a bit better, perhaps because it is more "like" Pa, somehow, with his hair not staying slicked down, and his eyes looking as though the twinkle is not far away —

    Charles_caroline

    Carrie_Ingalls_-_Mary_Ingalls_-_Laura_Ingalls

    Carrie, Mary, and Laura.  Carrie hasn't quite grown into the hand-me-down dress yet, I think.  Laura's hand has been pointed out, I think by Zochert, as pent-up energy, but you know, I think it's just resting on the back of Mary's chair.

    Liw

    Laura as a teenager in DeSmet.  Remember her cutting the bangs and curling them with her slate pencil?

    IngallsFamily2

    Ma, Carrie, Laura, Pa, Grace, and Mary.  (Does anyone look good sitting in a bustle?  My own great-great-grandmother's photograph looks the same, as though she's about to slide out of her chair — and curiously enough, with a similarly-misshapen bust, as though the stays aren't the right size any more.)

    Laura_Ingalls_Wilder 

    This is the iconic portrait of Laura Ingalls Wilder, the Author — it's on the bookplates I sent away to Mansfield for all those years ago, that still grace the endpapers of my copies of her books — but I think I prefer the other lesser-known one, which I'd never seen before now, though it is obviously from the same photographic sitting:

    Wilder8

    "But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods.  She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the firelight gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle.  She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.

    "She thought to herself, 'This is now.'

    "She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now.  They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now.  It can never be a long time ago."

  • Elizabethan stockings 5
    This is the first part of my planned Renaissance Faire clothing.  I say "Elizabethan" as there is apparently no evidence that hand-knitted stockings were worn quite so early as that in England, although I'm still waffling about their period authenticity.  Up to the Elizabethan era at least, stockings and hose were commonly sewn from bias-cut fabric, a long and elaborately-shaped piece with a separate sole — one can only imagine the suprise when putting on a knitted one for the first time! like wearing leggings after years of wearing jeans.

    One of the earliest known pairs of knitted stockings in Europe are part of Eleanora of Toledo's burial garments from 1562 (here is someone's pattern for them):

    Image002

    I have not done any serious research on Eleanora's stockings, so cannot be taken as an expert by any means, but I have to wonder if they were either simply not taking advantage of the stretchability of knitting at this point, or were so taken by the possibilities of patterned stitches that these were made rather larger than modern stockings would be.  There is no record, of course, as to the size of Eleanora's calves, but the proportions look a little off to me.

    Knitted stockings 1

    The earliest known pattern for knitted stockings is from a book called Natura Exenterata — "Nature unbowelled", that is, with all of her secrets spilled, as it were — from 1655.

    Natura exenterata

    (This copy is from the Folger Library)  It is a book mostly of physicking, with shorter sections on household practices from horse-breeding to distilling, making perfumes, and so on, including how "To Dye divers kinds of Colours" which I found rather interesting — things like "To dye Popingay Greene.  Take penny-hew and put it to Chamberlye or good Boockley, and seeth it and put it in the yeallow Yarne, and let it seeth, the longer it seetheth the deeper the colour will be."  "Popinjay" is the old word for parrot, so I can only assume some sort of parrot-y green — chamberlye is, yes, urine from the chamber-pots, which apparently acts as a cleansing agent on the wool, removing oils and dirt, and it also apparently works in combination with the other dyestuff as both a pigment and a fixative. 

    Anyway —

    The "knitting" bits in Exenterata can be found online at this University of Arizona page, under "Monographs" — I say "knitting" because there are only twenty pages included there and then only three actually related to "the order how to knit a hose", the rest being the dye recipes and a long section of netting patterns and another of lacework.  (I get a kick out of one of the patterns, as the author says after every step that you should have x number of stitches "provided alwayes, if your work go true", that is, if you've done it right.  I can't tell if that inspires confidence or not.)

    There are quite a variety of opinions around as to whether or not knitted stockings, despite the difference between dates of Eleanora's obviously expertly-knitted stockings and the Exenterata pattern, are really "period" when talking about Elizabethan costuming.  The Exenterata pattern gives instruction on shaping the calf and turning the heel, but stops at the toe, making me think that this must have been common knowledge by 1655, enough that it wasn't thought necessary to include that part, and the novelty, if any, is in the heel and foot.  Actually, I think you could find opinions these days for either date, even among the really dedicated SCA folks, but I am willing to be corrected, my philosophy being, as someone once said, "To stonde alwaies stiff and obstinate in one opinion is rather Vice than Vertue".

    For mine, I was really just making it up as I went along, according to my brief and limited research.  Ribbing was not known until quite some time later, so the top of a stocking was a simple one of garter stitch, or perhaps a fancier cuff like Eleanor's, to be folded over or not as the case may be.  The stockings were held up with separate garters, either a knitted strip of garter stitch (hence the name), a piece of fabric, or a woven strip such as from tablet-weaving.  Knitted stockings were made to imitate the sewn ones by including a "seam" down the back — I used a simple one-stitch purled line, but apparently a wider version can be found. 

    Shepherd sock natural

    Stitch detail 1

    The yarn is two lovely skeins of Shepherd Sock in Natural, a delight to work with, and the pattern is custom-fitted with help from the Arachne Sock Calculator. 

    Shaping detail

    I think that the only thing I would do differently is to move the center of the clock towards the back by 2 stitches, so that it lines up with the edge of the heel flap.  If I'd thought about it more thoroughly, I probably would have realized that the center of the side is two stitches towards the instep, and not in line with the gusset decreases.  (Smacks forehead.)

    Clock detail

    The heel is the "common shaped heel" from Nancy Bush's Folk Socks book, which is I think essentially the same as the Exenterata one.  The only modification I made from Bush's version was to not cut the yarn but simply use a three-needle bind-off instead of grafting the bottom-of-the-heel stitches.  Yes, I know, I thought "a bind-off on the bottom of the foot!" too, but I was going more for historical accuracy, as grafting apparently wasn't known for quite some years more, and as it happens, at this gauge and for so short a length as this, I can't feel it at all.

    Shaped common heel 2

    This is how the heel looks in progress from the inside — the line of knit stitches is the "seam", then the three-needle bind-off goes on up to where the needles meet —

    Shaped common heel - inside

    I used the round toe — it seems that a wedge toe was more commonly used in early hand-knitted stockings, with a three-needle bind-off, but that seam, I think, you would feel more easily than one at the bottom of your heel, and so the second-earliest option won out.

    Round toe

    And so — as far as a Faire gown is concerned anyway, I've had my fling with knitting — on to sewing!

  • This is another mish-mash post, all of the little bits and bobs that separately don't make up much of a post!

    I finished knitting the Hug-Me-Tight a month and a half or so ago, and sewed it all together — unfortunately the result is a resounding "meh".  Am not really sure if I simply made it too big (this is the larger size) or if the drape of the Cashsoft is too lazy to show it off much, or if blocking would help — but it resides on the top of the end table still.

    0942 small

    0943 small

    0944 small

    It looks even worse on me than it does on Laura.  Not sure yet whether or not I'm going to rip it out or block it and hope for the best — I'm inclining towards the former, as I suspect that the Cashsoft won't block much.  The larger border is curling I think because it is basically a circle, so that the outer edge is simply stretched too far.  It may just be a matter of the wrong yarn for the project.  Sigh.

    Also on the needles are an Elizabethan-of-sorts stocking, and a generic sock in Paton's Kroy "Camo Colors" — huge gauge, it seems! so it's working up gratifyingly quickly as I pass the time during various dentist appointments and piano lessons.

    Kroy camo colors

    Last week I went to Michael's for a piece of embroidery fabric, and started a blackwork sampler.  I was so amazed that my local public library actually had two books on blackwork (three, really, although apparently one is missing, as my request for it is still hanging in the ether somewhere), that, really, I could hardly not.

    I first worked a simple all-over pattern from Rosemary Drysdale's The Art of Blackwork Embroidery (Scribner, 1975), and then jumped in to the two patterns from Jane Pemberton's smock, charted here by Kirrily Robert, aka "Lady Katherine Rowberd" of the SCA.  Here is the original Holbein miniature again — this picture isn't as detailed as the one I posted before, but I love the little pearls (or water sapphires?) on the frame, which isn't included in most of the images of the miniature:

    Holbein_Jane_Pemberton_c1540

    Wikipedia reports that her name was Jane Pemberton, later Jane Small, daughter of a Northamptonshire gentleman and later wife of a London cloth merchant, and dates the miniature to around 1540.

    And just because I get such a kick out of it, here is the back of the miniature:

    Holbein - jane small aka jane pemberton - reverse - v&a

    These two blackwork patterns are worked mostly in Holbein (or "double running") stitch.

    I made a slight modification to the collar pattern as given by Rowberd in that I eliminated the little bar across the end of the Celtic-like ribbonwork between the diamonds — I thought this made the ribbonwork a little more obvious.  It made the set-up more difficult, in that I couldn't simply work the main diagonals straight across but had to count out where to leave off those stitches.  This picture is how the diagonals look before working the fiddly bits:

    Collar patt setup

    I still haven't figured out the "right" way to do blackwork — if there is only one — I found another photo of this pattern in progress by someone who worked each section separately.  There is much to be said for that method, as it isn't nearly so nerve-wracking wondering if you've left enough room or counted correctly.  (In fact, you can see in the above photo where I assumed that the diagonal I was working would "bounce"off of the top margin, and I had to pick it out.)  If you get the set-up right, though, it is usually progressively easier to work each element, because you can see where each one sits, as well as how it fits in with the previous elements.

    This, by the way, is worked on 28-count Monaco cotton with one strand of black floss, over two threads per square of the chart.  Ragnvaeig's scarlet piece is obviously worked with at least two strands, and is therefore much denser, but I think that color on white linen is just gorgeous.

    Here is mine with some of the ribbonwork completed and one on the third of its four passes:

    Pemberton in progress

    I'm not sure yet if the wobbliness of the lines is due to my amateurishness, or just the nature of the thing, that sometimes the thread gets crowded in the hole of the fabric and sits differently. Luckily, from a distance, you can hardly tell….

    And here are the finished collar and cuff patterns:

    Pemberton done

    I actually don't like the cuff pattern much (it looks a bit choppy, I guess), and upon reflection would probably work a line of the ribbonwork on its own for the cuff.  Rowberd details her re-creation of Mistress Pemberton's smock here — alas, though, without a photo of the finished garment.

    And for those who are tired of blackwork, a paper crane that Julia folded one afternoon, to my astonishment and delight —

    Mini origami

  • Classic 3

    This is the Classic Sock from Melissa Morgan-Oakes' 2-at-a-time Socks, in Trekking XXL.  Started it ages ago, I'm afraid, fully a year at least, probably more — was going to do a toe-up, thinking pessimistically that I didn't know how far one ball would go for David's manly feet, but when I discovered that the reason he wasn't wearing the first pair of socks I'd knitted for him was because he was afraid of wearing them out, I thought "poor man!" and resolved to finish this pair immediately.

    Classic trekking greens

    I've misplaced the ball band but this is probably 327 Dark Greens and Blues, a handsome combination — not David's usual colors, but I figured that if he didn't like it, I certainly would.  The camera doesn't seem to like this color combination as much as I do — it looks a bit dusty in this photo.

    Classic 1

    The pattern is a fairly straightforward sock with a K1, P1 rib at the cuff and K3, P1 on the leg and foot, with a slip-stitch heel flap and a standard toe.  I didn't work it two-at-a-time, mainly because I really have no problem with "second-sock syndrome" and felt somehow, I suppose, that the method is more goal-oriented, as it were, than process-oriented, and while I do like having a pair of finished socks, I also simply like the time spent knitting them, so that this is a method that I don't really have an incentive as yet to try.

    I have heard, of course, of the problems with the book itself, and experienced a bit of that myself with the Coquette socks a while back.  With this pair, I cast on for the men's large size at 96 sts and found after a few inches that it was absolutely enormous.  I ripped it out and whacked off a chunk of the stitch count — still too big — ended up using 68, and even that is still on the roomy side.  The gauge given in the book is 9 1/2 sts per inch with XXL, whereas mine is seven to 7 1/2.  Knitter beware.

    The first sock weighed 52 g, so because I was still a bit concerned about not having enough yarn to finish, I did not cut the yarn at the end of the first sock, but put all of the sts on a holder before grafting the toe, and made the second sock from the other end of the yarn.  The XXL did not like being a center-pull ball, by the way.  I did have enough to spare, though, so that worked out all right.

    Two new sock projects on the needles already — a pair for my mother-in-law, and an "Elizabethan stocking" as part one of my Renaissance Faire costume-to-be ….

  • Famous Knitters

    Audrey knitting

    Audrey Hepburn, date unknown.