Something like endless shrimp...

Some years ago we dined in Wethersfield, Connecticut, because H had been seduced by incessant t.v. ads for a restaurant promising a meal called "endless shrimp." We drove 71 miles--that was the closest franchise (go figure), and as you, gentle knitters, may already suspect, the trip was a waste.

Was it terrible food? No, it was actually much worse than that--gritty, dessicated little pieces of crustacean crud, coated with fried gunk or drenched in congealed butter. Endless shrimp seemed a very bad idea from the minute we were served. Yet many of the morbidly obese diners near us were happily shoveling in the unlimited fare. Some people really want the most bang for their buck, even if it's a heart attack on a plate.

Similarly, there are people in this area of New England who profess to enjoy the endless snow that Mother N has been sending our way. The latest "event" was today, a threatened one-to-three inches. Fortunately this did not come to pass, and we received only a dusting.

Lest you think this is some kind of rant, I'll share a Shelleyan vision:

 Yes, snowdrops have emerged, promising that spring isn't far behind.

Despite spring's inevitability, it doesn't feel that way, and I've been knitting accordingly. The latest project is a medium-sized afghan, intended for the my grandson and granddog, both of whom spend a lot of time on the floor.

Dexter and Max

Here it is:

It's a log-cabin pattern writ large--chunky yarn on size 13 needles. All it takes is four squares. (So very unlike endless shrimp. And endless winter. And all that endless nasty stuff.)

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If you've got cabin fever and are looking for diversion and even a bit of knitting education, I'd draw your attention to Knit Nordic by Eline Oftedal (Collins and Brown, 2014), a book that crossed my desk recently. Ignore the unfortunate designs for knitted hotpants and racerback tank top; enjoy and consider making the more attractive patterns for cowls, mitts, hats, pillow covers, and the like. This nicely-written book eases you into the classic elements of Norwegian knitting design, and teaches you to create beautiful, strong (because of floats) fabric, and useful items. The yarn colors are uplifting, and will brighten up your life. It's clear from Knit Nordic that Norwegians understand how to rout the winter blahs.

The publisher has kindly offered one copy to my readers--so post a comment on this blog if you want the book, and let me know why. Giveaway closes at midnight on the Ides of March.

Blanket statement.

Despite their resemblance to ETs, these are two knitted blankets I've just finished. Both are from free patterns I discovered on the Web. The log cabin afghan is done in blocks that are sewed together. The "Baby Shane" blanket is a clever design based on knitted triangles integrated through picking up stitches to form a square; there's only one seam in the end. To their designers I say, Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Really, these were amazing fun to knit, and are excellent mindless projects, well suited to traveling and television. Apart from the geometric beauty of each blanket, I savored the pleasure of using up stash yarn. What is more satisfying than that?

Summer on the Wood River.

Guts and glory

The quilt-inspired Log Cabin Afghan is nearing completion.

The closest I've been to mathematics since barely squeaking by trigonometry in high school, is knitting. (Music employs counting, not math.) Honestly, I love the geometry of knitted textiles, and discovering Kaffe Fassett's Glorious Knits book in 1985 was mind-expanding (not that I made any of its lyrical, geometric patterns. At that point, with two small kids and multiple teaching jobs, I hadn't time to knit...in fact, I gave it up for nearly twenty years).

But the thing about a great knitting book is that you don't have to follow its instructions. You can enjoy its inspirational qualities--images, ideas, and designs that are springboards to future projects. During The Years of Knitting Withdrawal there was a lot of unconscious processing. I returned to my needles about twelve years ago with a stronger sense of color and design. Naturally I was thrilled when a review copy of KF's latest book, Knitting With the Color Guys:  Inspiration, Ideas, and Projects from the Kaffe Fassett Studio (co-authored with Brandon Mably, published by Sixth and Spring Books), recently appeared in the mail.

In the score of years between Glorious Knits and The Color Guys, Fassett and Mably produced a wealth of design books focused on decor, quilting, and needlepoint, as well as knitting. Throughout, though, there's been a consistent reiteration and incremental development of colorwork and geometric themes, most inspired by historic or classic patterns and/or decorative arts. Thus it was interesting to compare the bookends, as it were.

To cite only one example, a classic quilting pattern, "Tumbling Blocks," appears as a sweater design in Glorious Knits, while in The Color Guys it has been distilled into a rectangular "Trapezoidal Throw." It's about as close as you can come to painting in knitting, I think.

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But once you start seeing artful geometry in knitting, it's everywhere. (What is it about textiles that makes us love their patterned repetitions?) My estimable friend Neuroknitter dropped by yesterday with a package of the world's greatest Girl Scout Cookies (chocolate thin mints, of course) and several examples of her stunning hand-dyed yarn in the form of socks and a clapotis shawl-in-process whose patterning depends on a rhythmically raveled stripe. What a treat!