Planning and planning… and planning some more

I have started and drafted dozens of posts over the past few years, trying to think through a strategy to “catch up” with all the knitting projects I’ve been working on and dreaming about… and not gotten around to sharing on here yet. My knitting & crafts Instagram is a much more reliable place for regular posting, but there are details and extended thoughts you just can’t fit in a caption. I really miss the days of RSS feeds and Google Reader so I could see what the people I wanted to follow posted, chronologically and however sporadically, and everyone wasn’t so worried about feeding an algorithm, but alas, the world continues changing with or without me.

So without prelude or any real attempt to catch up (for now) let’s talk about the obsession that occupies a substantial amount of my knitting daydreaming lately: Stretching Leftovers.

Specifically, I have fallen head-over-heels in love with stranded colorwork (I’ll share all these projects here soon). And yes, I know a person could just buy new yarn for each new project, but it is SO much more satisfying to make a pair of socks or mittens entirely out of the leftover yarn from a previous project. They are essentially, as a friend pointed out in a KAL group, free projects, so they also really stretch one’s budget and imagination.

One of the first such projects that sparked this obsession were my Dither Socks (Ravelry*), knit from November–December 2021.

* Unless otherwise stated, all links from here forward go to Ravelry pattern and project pages, which you may not be able to view unless you are logged in.

A pair of gradient-style socks made from leftover yarns
Dither Socks, pattern by General Hogbuffer, knit in Fuchsia, Semolina, and Tranquil (teal) colors of Knit Picks Palette, shown on sock blockers

I love this pattern and the way it makes a gradient from three colors of yarn using the early printer-inspired dithering technique of grayscale patterns to alter shades. It’s clever, and it’s ideally suited to using leftovers, as it’s 1/3 of the typical amount of yarn used per sock. And I am especially pleased that I was able to knit them from leftover yarns from my Fireweeds Socks and Chrysanthemums Mittens, two particularly beloved projects.

Diagram of using yarn leftovers from other projects to make socks
Diagram of how Dither Socks incorporated leftovers from my Fireweeds Socks & Chrysanthemums Mittens

Of course I can’t just stay content with a nice little bonus project and call it a day. No, I have now started pre-meditating a series of projects based on incorporating leftovers, and it’s becoming, well, an obsession.

A pair of colorwork mittens in progress, on needles
Pattern: Angkas Mittens by Therese Lundberg
Yarns: Knit Picks Stroll in Sapphire Heather (darker blue) and Wonderland Heather (lighter blue)

I started this pair of Angkas Mittens in late 2022, and I put them aside when the hand came out too short (I’ve since resolved how to adjust the pattern for my longer fingers, and I really hope to have them done this winter).

I want to use the leftover light blue yarn to form the sky portion of forest-inspired colorwork socks (Metsän Siimeksessä from KnitsByAnni), which will use one of two greens for the larger part of the foot. And then I want to take the rest of that green, plus a contrast color, for one pair of celestial-inspired mittens (Temple of the Forest by Elena Maltseva) and some leftover yellow and the rest of the darker blue for a different pair (Sonne, Mond und Sterne by Simone Urban). Something like this:

Yarn sourcing for three new projects from the leftovers of several others.
Photo of Metsän Siimeksessä © KnitsByAnni
Photo of Sonne, Mond und Sterne © Simone Urban
Photo of Temple of the Forest Mittens © Elena Maltseva

Somehow this level of over-thinking and fastidious planning is calming, soothing, and fun for me, and I love dreaming up new ways to use up every last inch of the yarns I already have. Every time I look at projects made with leftovers, I see the history of other projects that contributed, linking my whole body of knitting into a kind of experiential / memory palette. As with every creative thing I do, I change my mind dozens of times while shuffling and reshuffling these plans, and this is one of the only places in my life where I find my chronic indecision to be fun and not agonizing. Surely I’m not the only one?

But I am not just daydreaming about knitting, rather I am working on new things all the time. I hope to have a big ol’ pile of actual knitting to share soon!

WIP Round-Up, Greens Edition

As a painter, I love color – all colors – and I am endlessly fascinated by variations in hue, tone, how colors work in combination, and so on. I have my all-time favorites (green, fuchsia-ish magenta, teal) and general preferences in terms of clarity and saturation of colors, but occasionally I think color works a bit like having a song stuck in your head: when your attention is attenuated on a particular color, you seem to see it everywhere, and when your mind wanders, say, while shopping for yarn, you just keep coming back to similar shades.

Stack of knitting projects in progress (WIPs) in various shades of green

When I glanced at my knitting basket the other day, I couldn’t help noticing the color story I’d been inadvertently repeating. And it’s not just in knitting: the median shade of these projects keeps showing up in my art, in the clothes I wear, in my graphic design – it’s truly stuck in my head.

Also, this isn’t even all of my current green WIPs (nor all of my WIPs by a country mile), so I will continue with another roundup soon.

Alluvial Deposits Socks

Pair of green socks in progress, on double-pointed needles, next to a ball of yarn, on a marble tabletop

While I generally try to vary (or at least alternate) my sock-knitting colors, I couldn’t resist back-to-back greens for my May-June and June-July projects. This yarn is so special, a one-of-a-kind hand-painted, non-repeatable “Wild Iris” colorway from Miss Babs that almost felt too precious to use. Rich Ensor (Ravelry link)’s elegant, sharply clever pattern Alluvial Deposits makes the most of a really special skein of yarn, and when I began to imagine what this yarn would do in this pattern, it felt positively meant to be.

Vauhtia ja vaarallisia tilanteita – Action! Socks

Bluish-green cabled toe-up socks in progress, next to a ball of yarn, on a faux fur off-white blanket background

This color, Knit Picks Stroll in Patina, just spoke to me from the moment I saw it. It is that just-right blue-green seafoamy-but-not-too-pastel shade that I would probably classify as my actual favorite color if I could pin down a simple name for it. These socks were for a Sock Knitters Anonymous challenge working a pattern that started with the same first letter as one’s Ravelry username. I didn’t expect much for a name starting with “V” so you can perhaps imagine my delight when I found this lovely Finnish pattern (the name translates to “Full speed ahead”).

A Baby Sweater and Hat Set

The yoke of a green and off-white colorwork baby sweater in progress, with two balls of yarn on a sage green background

When I wanted to make a gift for my cousin’s soon-to-arrive baby girl, I naturally went to my favorite color again, this time paired with a nice off-white. I’m not sure why I’m a bit superstitious about over-committing to pink or blue for babies, or if this is my incredibly subtle way of subverting the gender binary, but I think babies (and all people, really) tend to look incredible in shades of green. It’s slightly unexpected, but it stands out and encourages individuality and personal expression. We’ll talk a lot more about this project soon.

Sonrae Sweater

Colorwork neckline and yoke of a Sonrae sweater in progress

Earlier this spring I became truly obsessed with colorwork, and I worked up the nerve to finally cast on for the Sonrae Sweater by Jenn Steingass of knit.love.wool. I had such a great time working my first colorwork yoke, featuring glorious shades of spruce and a sagey-seafoam green.

Colorwork yoke of a Sonrae sweater in shades of green, laid out flat in a circle on needles

As you can see in the top photo of this post, I’ve since split the body and arms of the sweater and have moved into swathes of stockinette.

Since I started the draft of this post back in June (eeep), most of these projects are now complete (and gifts given!). I expect to have FO posts with many more details to share soon. And maybe, just maybe, something that isn’t green.

Going to great lengths for a seamless cardigan

I have been wanting to knit the Salvia cardigan for years, and in 2015, I finally cast it on. I made the decision that I wanted to figure out how to work it seamlessly, or with as few seams as possible because I still have not mastered attractive seaming for my handknits (I promise, I am working on it and practicing).

I’ve been collecting techniques to avoid seaming over the years, including three-needle bind-offs, picking up stitches around edges, and so on, but this sweater has a unique challenge. The scalloped lace sections that give it its special style are charted from the bottom up, and because they are made with yarn-overs and decreases that play a visible role in the design, I wasn’t able to find an elegant way of replicating them in a top-down direction. I run into the opposite problem somewhat frequently in sock-knitting, where the lace only “reads” with the right gravity and flow in the direction it was designed. So I persisted anyway, quickly working the cardigan’s back, left, and right fronts all together in one piece to the underarms.

Diagram of a plan for knitting the Salvia Cardigan seamlessly

Next I worked the three pieces separately, back and forth on two needles, then finished with a three-needle bind-off at the shoulders. I’ve had my cardigan in a vest-like shape for several years now, while I hemmed and hawed about how best to proceed. The specific type of seaming I am worst at is setting in sleeves at the shoulder. Vertical mattress stitch is fine, but once I start working on a curve, it gets wonky and uneven, and no matter what I do, I’m not pleased with the finished product. So I’ve thought, on and off, for quite some time about how I could work the shoulders using short rows to shape the cap (I plan on something like this brilliant tutorial) and then pondered what to do about the bottom-up lace at the ends of the sleeves.

Recently I was grafting the toe of a sock using Kitchener stitch, thinking about what a neat finish it gives, and it finally occurred to me that I could probably graft in the round, so long as I had the live stitches from the sleeve and the lace portion matched up correctly. By placing the graft just above the lace cuff, I’m hoping it will be unobtrusive and neat and that the sleeve will appear as it is designed, without having to set in shoulders or compromise the design.

I cast on the first lace cuff the other day, and I can’t wait to find out if I’m right!

Previous Entries with this Project:
WIP: Art Deco Lace-Edged Cardigan

Spring Socks

One of the goals I’ve set for this year is knitting a pair of socks each month, usually as part of the Sock Knitters Anonymous challenges on Ravelry. I’ve also decided they would be part of the #FreeSocks2020 project, where the socks are knit with yarn I already have in my stash, from patterns available for free.

These are my Cuarzo Rosa socks, and between the pretty lace pattern and delicate pink heather color, they feel just perfect for spring. I cast these on for the April-May SKA challenge theme of “under-appreciated patterns,” where a design must have fewer than 15 projects on Ravelry to qualify. I am stunned that I was only the seventh person to cast on for this incredibly beautiful and enjoyable design.

Inspired by the lacy clusters of rose quartz crystals as they are found in nature, the pattern grows into rhythmic organic shapes that are nowhere near as difficult to knit as they may look. I always love that quality in lace.

I’m having a great time watching these socks develop and look forward to having a finished pair soon!

Social media, catching up, and knitting in quarantine

“It’s been a while since I updated my knitting blog,” I thought sheepishly, firing up a browser with a bit of trepidation… “It’s probably been like six months or more…”

Last post date August 21, 2018.

2018? 2018! Oh jeez, I’m sorry.

I did not mean to disappear when I set up my Knitting Instagram to share projects. It happened to fall at the same time as a whole bunch of personal turmoil (career stuff, illness, moving, starting a program to retrain for a new career etc. etc.) and until recently, I was spending the majority of my free time on a long train commute in and out of Manhattan, which is great for knitting but has not proven optimal for knit-blogging.

Knitting and knit-blogging are really two different animals, and I think there is great value in exploring projects and concepts more comprehensively. When I am searching for a tutorial or more information about a pattern, I pretty much never search Instagram or go through needle-in-a-haystack Ravelry searches; it’s more often 10-year-old blog posts that give the qualities of thought and reflection or specific, detailed information I want. On a personal level, I also feel there is tremendous joy in writing and reading about crafts and the places they hold in our lives. I don’t tend to go very in-depth on Instagram or interact as much as I mean to, so I would like all of that to change.

So what have I been up to?

Since my last post here I’ve:

  • knit 16 pairs of socks
  • designed, knit, and gifted (on time!) a cabled baby sweater for my cousin’s son
  • learned how to use my sewing machine (kind of) to sew a linen caftan that I dye-painted for a costumed art party (will miracles never cease?!)
  • packed up all my stash and in-process projects, save a handful, and put them into my storage locker while I’m living with family and going to school
  • knit three sweaters for myself
  • knit two yoga mat bags, one for each of my parents, which they absolutely love
  • knit my first colorwork mittens and socks
  • participated in the Fiberuary Challenge, posting on Instagram in response to prompts for every day of this past February
  • started knitting my first blanket (more on that below)
  • hand-sewed and embroidered three Mask Strap Ear Guards for my physical therapist father and two of his colleagues
  • started learning brioche

While I mull over the best way to catch up here (I will probably introduce a series of Flashback FO posts), I also want to talk about knitting in quarantine.

Prior to the covid-19 pandemic, I was already using knitting as a form of meditation, self-care, anxiety-release, and way to occupy my hands while I’m chatting, watching television, reading, or commuting. I always have at least one or two projects on the go (hence the large number of socks I’ve knit this year, as they are the most portable projects) and turn to them whenever I have a free moment. A lot of the knitters I follow on Instagram took on larger or more complicated projects for their “Quarantine Cast-Ons,” to make the most of their stay-at-home orders.

As I live with and know quite a number of high-risk individuals – and was just coming off two surgeries myself in late January – I took the infection risk from this pandemic very seriously. Like, I put a mask with an N-95 filter on my Christmas wish list and wore it every day in the city from when my classes resumed in early February onwards. As my brother and father are both essential healthcare workers, we have all been taking enormous precautions to stay safe and limit everyone’s risk of exposure, so I am happy to stay at home, adjust to my classes moving online, and knit through every worry.

One of my other Christmas gifts was the Hue Shift Afghan kit, a gorgeous blanket with a clever pattern that pairs each of ten colors in a rainbow spectrum with every other color in a plaid-like stripey grid gradient made with mitered squares.

I am absolutely enamored with the process and how neatly the squares fold in on themselves. It is also a whole lot of easy garter stitch, which is deeply soothing, meditative, and comforting when I am lacking the intellectual or emotional bandwidth to process anything else. I’ve found myself working on this blanket through countless Zoom lectures, conversations with my biomed tech brother reporting back from endless days setting up ventilators and all the equipment in northern New Jersey hospital systems, governor’s press briefings, fundraising specials, and all the distractions to take our minds off all the rest. (On that note, we just caught up on Killing Eve, and it is great fun).

Beyond all the practical and knitterly reasons why this is a great quarantine project, I am also touched by the idea of the rainbow as a promise of better things to come after hardship. As I knit my rainbow blanket, I keep imagining ways we can come together and make a better society, how we are unified in this moment and can use it to open our eyes to inequities, distorted and broken systems, and our inherently better natures. I am focusing this blanket in love, hope, and idealism, and I hope it will continue to carry that feeling for me whenever I use it after this time.

So, how have you been? What have you all been making?