By the book...

A few posts ago, I extolled Deborah Newton's newly-published Finishing School, a book that's wonderfully inspiring, readable, and filled with practical advice. Neuroknitter, my pal in New London, Connecticut, had occasion recently to follow one of Deborah's great tips (on pages 84-85 of Finishing School)--that of using small anchor buttons on the underside of a garment to firmly attach a visible button.

While using a clear plastic button to anchor the visible button is generally recommended, in some cases yarn colors are complemented by buttons that echo the yarn. On this collar, which can be worn buttoned into a turtleneck or open, the buttons create a beautiful counterpoint to the yarn which is, by the way, hand-dyed. Neuroknitter's color inspiration came from Georgia O'Keeffe's 1934 painting "Barn with Snow."

The reproduction here doesn't do O'Keeffe's colors justice; suffice it to say the dyes Neuroknitter used (ProChem's "One Shot" Chinese Red, Slate, and Mouse Grey) are fairly close to the painting. Neuroknitter used Webs's Northfield DK, a merino-alpaca-silk blend, and it took the dye beautifully.

***

Likewise, I found the answer to a dilemma in The Vogue Knitting Stitchionary, Volume Six, "Edgings," also just released. 

I've been doing a sweater for more than a year that is not just a WIP, it's a model of knitting evolution.  So, having finished the traditional parts of this cardigan--back, fronts, sleeves--and sewed it together, and inserted a belt, I decided it needed a ruffle.  Voilà!  I found my ruffle in this lovely Stitchionary, the review copy of which serendipitously arrived just last week, the only kind possible to knit from stitches picked-up along the edge.

It's the "increasing ruffle" on the left side of the page, and so far it's working out well.

The ruffle is in an interesting grey yarn, "Woodland" by Classic Elite--65% wool and 35% nettles. The nettles impart a subtle luster and silky feel.  The rest of the sweater is done in different oddballs of Noro, Lamb's Pride, Manos, and some variegated mystery worsted.

Molly!

Brownie!

Lola!

Dyed in the Wool, Part Two

Here's how my yarn came out. The first skein I dyed, all Slate-colored, is in the center. The second skein, mostly Mahogany, is on the right, and the third skein, where I got really ambitious and used two colors, is on the left.  I'm not sure if I have enough yarn here for a pair of mittens, but if I do, that's what the skeins are destined for.

Neuroknitter sent me these two snaps of her lovely lace yarn. It's so interesting to see how the coloration of the skein translates into knitting.


What I learned from this experiment:

• Hand-dyeing yarn isn't as daunting as I'd expected. (Of course, the process was completely streamlined because Neuroknitter had placed all the materials at hand.)
• It's one of those pursuits that could become as addictive as knitting. As with knitting, the variables offer infinite variety and unlimited depth.
• Like knitting, it's absorbing, surprising, and fun. And pets can get involved, too.
• Of course, I could expand my definition of knitting to include hand-dyeing...
• I must seriously consider:  do I want to become thrall to yet another obsession?

I queried Neuroknitter about her involvement with hand-dyeing. Her responses only confirmed my suspicions about the addictive nature of this pursuit.  "I started about ten years ago," she confessed. A professional weaver showed her how to use dye baths and how to hand-paint skeins.  Later, Neuroknitter set up her own basement studio, and "that's when things got serious. I hope to someday have a real space that is permanently devoted to dyeing...."


"What do you like about the process?" I wondered.

"First," she replied,  "I like to experiment with color combinations.  Second, I like the way the yarn looks when it's wrapped up and ready to cook.  The colors at that stage are so intense!  Probably my favorite part of the process is seeing how the yarn or roving comes out.  An important element of the process is that the risk is low.  Undyed yarn is not especially expensive, nor are the dye or other materials.  I see hand-painted yarn in the store for $20 a skein and know that I can do the same for much less.  I guess I like a bargain!  Of course, when you factor in the time it takes, the $20 price seems more of a bargain."

[On this last point I wonder how many of us knitters are compelled to do what we do--knit, buy yarn in quantity and/or on sale, spin, dye, etc. etc.--by delusions of thrift? Readers, I welcome your input here.]

"What does a successful dyeing project look like?" I inquired. 

Neuroknitter:  "It keeps the color that was applied and the color has penetrated the whole skein/roving.  I've done several projects in which the color combination was not appealing, but usually I'm pleasantly surprised at how much I like the combination.  One of the most successful projects so far was when I took a Georgia O'Keeffe post card and replicated the colors in some roving.  I was quite proud of that.  (see http://brainknit.blogspot.com/2009/12/cant-we-open-presents-yet-this-is-my.html)."

What Neuroknitter neglected to mention was the obvious, major benefit of pet participation that hand-dyeing, like hand-knitting, offers. Those of us who work entirely or partly at home are so accustomed to this life-enhancement, that we tend to overlook it. But where would we be without the helpful company of our furry friends?

Brownie: Ready, Willing, and Able!

Loss and gain

Stonington, CT

Those who grew up before the Age of SPF and PABA often, as mature individuals, endure dermatological procedures that remove sun-damaged skin lest it morph into full-blown cancer. Such was H's lot this morning.  While he was being scraped, peeled, and stitched on the tenth floor of Rhode Island Hospital, the Knitting Goddess and I walked along the mighty Seekonk with our loyal companions, Brownie and Lola, discussing the merits of wool versus acrylic, a conversation prompted by my wearing of a pair of thirty-year-old acrylic mittens (knitted in an overall seed stitch by mother, who is late--to borrow a term from Mma Ramotswe), and KG's wearing of a pair of equally ancient acrylic gloves in a nordic pattern, inherited from an elderly relative.

KG maintains that acrylic garments can be as warmth-providing as wool. I disagree. To test our hypotheses, we have decided to knit two pairs of comparable mittens, hers in acrylic, mine in wool. We will engage an impartial scientist to measure the heat retention of said mittens as they are worn on a suitably cold winter day. I am sure you, gentle readers, will be as curious about the results as KG and I are. Stay tuned.

Shortly after our return from this bracing expedition, I was summonsed by H to bail him out of hospital hell. Then we were on our way to the River House, where four angry cats awaited, screaming for breakfast. H had come through his surgery stoically and with only one large bandage on his face. We decided to reward his fortitude with lunch in Stonington, Connecticut, a twenty-minute drive from our rural hideaway. Afterwards, we strolled to the water's edge. It was there that we encountered Owl.

He's about a foot high, five or six inches wide, and rather compact. Readers, you know my proclivity for homeless animals. There was no way I could leave him on the wharf, feathers ruffling in the wind. We scooped up the little beast and brought him home.

It turns out that he loves to watch me knit. This I discovered as we drove back and I, riding shotgun with Owl on my lap, picked up a rather lurid sock currently under construction and began to work. Owl nudged it with his beak and rubbed his head on the ball of yarn. When we arrived home, I put him in a basket with the almost-completed pair, and it was clear that he was in a state of avian bliss.

I promised to knit him a scarf from the leftovers.

Lola isn't certain how she feels about him.