Gnomenclature

On the whole it's been a semi-rancid summer, except for the tomato harvest, still rolling in. As we ebb into autumn, my favorite season, I'm hoping for many resolutions of problem situations such as sweltering, semi-tropical humidity in New England, pesky health issues, and feelings of inertia and lassitude prompted, no doubt, by climate change and personal decrepitude. (And the death of a dearly-loved pet--Molly, the silver-cream Persian, just last week, of cancer--and the constant regurgitation of election 2016 news...that's so...completely...depressing....)

Is it any wonder that I can't decide what to knit just now? Should I commit to a large project, like a sweater, or continue to enlarge my wardrobe of scarves, hats, and mittens? These are the existential questions I ponder and fail to answer.

So, betwixt and between, I've taken to knitting faceless little gnomes. They are stash-busters, and just as appealing is the swiftness of their creation--approximately the length of two Masterpiece Theatre episodes.

When I first discovered the pattern it was gratis, but now its author, Tonya Gunn, sells it on Ravelry for $1.99--an eminently fair price.  Most decent candy-bars these days cost at least $2.00, except if you're buying them at an airport, where the price is more like $5.00.

I prefer to think of these gnomes as elves. Gnomes seem somewhat gnarly to me.

The facelessness of these elves/gnomes is what gives them character.  Arguably one could embroider features, but that would probably inhibit the elves' emotional repertoire.

Let's not...

I've sometimes gotten assignments about summer knitting, wherein I was supposed to show readers how much fun it is to knit when the temperature and humidity levels are insanely high. Hello? Obviously this tack runs counter to reality, not to mention common sense.

I do understand, however, that the knitting-addicted allow their obsession to override sanity. I think of my job, in such situations, as that of a practical abetter:  a friend who says, in effect, Look, I know it's ridiculous to knit under such conditions, but I understand this is about being possessed by a knitting demon.  In these cases I tend to recommend very small projects done of lightweight or non-wool yarns.

Here in New England the temperature and humidity levels have been disgusting for the past two weeks, with little rain (we're talking drought conditions), and small prospects of immediate relief. Truthfully, gentle knitters, it has been an ordeal for me to knit anything at all, even with the benefit of air conditioning. If you, too, are suffering in a similar way, I'd like to propose a brief vacation from the act of knitting. Admittedly this sounds horrifying, but you can feed your lust by reading a knitting book! A good knitting book can be almost as enjoyable as knitting the most beautiful cashmere yarn on the planet.

Photo credit: Carrie Hoge.

So, here's one to start with--new this month from Lark Crafts publishers.  I reviewed another Carol J. Sulcoski book not too long ago, and I own an earlier volume of hers that I purchased in 2012, SockYarn Studio. Ms. Sulcoski is a writer of merit, with many interesting patterns and projects for your delectation.

Self-Striping Yarn Studio might be my favorite book of hers so far, because it contains an engaging and informed discussion of the properties and quirks of self-striping yarn, acknowledges the fun of knitting yarns that change colors randomly, programmatically, and gradiently, and offers useful ideas about how to manage the layout of a particular yarn's dye patterns.  In addition, there are quite a few inspiring designs for cowls, sweaters, blankets, baby jackets, hats--really anything you'd enjoy knitting.

Photo credit:  Carrie Hoge.

I think this "Damask Iris Cowl" pattern, by Barb Brown, particularly beautiful. The majority of the volume's twenty-five patterns (designed by contributors as well as Ms. Sulcoski), arranged according to yarn weight, are equally lovely, so they offer much food for thought. And that's what we're aiming for right now as a way of getting through all the heat--food for thought, a.k.a. knitting in the abstract.

Next post I'll be raving about Deborah Newton's recent awesome volume, Good Measure:  A Perfect Fit Every Time.  This came out about ten months ago and I've been waiting to talk about it for ever so long, but really needed a while to digest it.  (Plus, someone--you know who you are--has borrowed and not yet returned my volume of the prequel, Finishing School:  A Master Class for Knitters, and I've wanted to look at the books together...so that's also been causing the delay.)

Well, I would be dishonest if I didn't undermine my opening disquisition by confessing that I actually have been knitting a little bit...another toy, this for a baby who was supposed to arrive several days ago, but who obviously hates HHH weather as much as everyone else.

He's the second sheep dog I've made, and the design is from Knitted Farm Animals by Sarah Keen (2012).  For a free copy of the pattern, courtesy of Lion Brand Yarns, check out one of my articles about knitted toys.

Lace is more....

Conventional wisdom has it that knitting heavy woolens when the weather's warm isn't entirely pleasant. I suppose if there's no access to trade winds or a/c this is so. Anyway, if an excuse is needed to embark on a knitted lace project, it's too hot to knit an aran sweater is as good as any.

Which brings me to Brooke Nico's new book, Lovely Knitted Lace (Lark Publishing, 2014).

If you're the kind of knitter who's intimidated by the L word, this book is for you. Nico's approach is calming and rational. She organizes patterns by essential shapes--triangles, rectangles, circles, squares--so that the knitter isn't necessarily thinking about the project line by line. The psychological benefits of the geometric approach are palpable. There's a vision in place that allows the knitter to focus on intermediate and long-range goals--how a garment can be viewed as the joining of triangles or rectangles, how its form as a whole is a shaped statement rather than a string of disjointed phrases.

So it's summer now, and you could get started on something light and ethereal, like the"Angel Shawl."

How could you not love a pattern of which its designer says, "this shawl makes use of the pizza wedges concept of shaping"? Especially since, in the end, you have something decidedly more gorgeous than a pizza! (Hard to imagine, I know.) This might be my favorite pattern in the book, though all the designs, from cowls to sweaters, have great merit.

The publisher has made available a giveaway copy of Lovely Knitted Lace. If you'd like it, post a comment telling me why, before midnight on Thursday June 5th 2014.  Kramer the Haruspex will help me select the winner.

Flat as a cat on a mat....

Gentle knitters,
Several have inquired about the recent paucity of postings. Two words, my friends: summer heat. Because of this it takes most of my energy to move from one knitting project to another, distributed as they are in various regions of my house. This, despite a/c!  All of us in my bailiwick have been not merely flattened, but rather, squashed.

Flat Cat on Mat #1

Flat Cat on Mat #2

There have been two consecutive heat waves since the Fourth of July, meaning temperatures have been above 90 degrees F for more than three days running. However, if the temperatures are in the high 80s, which they sometimes have also been, and the humidity has been consistently in the jungle range, it feels like a heat wave anyway, even if it's not technically that. New England has been clobbered throughout July by the muggiest of muggy hot weather, the proverbial HHH.

Well, enough of this kvetching...

A frequent topic of knitting lit-rit-choor in the summer months is what one knits when it's hot outside. Since I've already weighed in on that with a recent article ("Stitch and Seed: Summer's Bounties," Knitscene Magazine, Summer 2011, 8-11) I shall say that to the predictable small wearable projects generally favored in this season, I have added stuffed animals. That's because I'll become a grandmama in a few months, and as I saved most of the sweaters I knitted for my own children when they were wee, there's no compelling need to augment the supply for a new grandson who will inherit (and I hope wear) the exact same garments as his father. But hand-knitted stuffies?  Well, that's a brave new world to conquer.

 More on this engaging topic shall be forthcoming, but at the moment I must cease and desist, or melt.

Alfie flees the knitted hedgehog!