Etherknitter

Alpacaholic

I'm working on spinning the Polwarth that I bought at The Fold in September.  For reasons I cannot fathom, the colorway is called Wintergarden.  It is blues, streaked with periwinkles and greens.  There is nothing in MY winter garden that looks anything like that. 

The winter garden is all about structure, what the garden designers call bones.   A sunny day produced this sturdy actor in the winter play:

Small, brief early winter snow squalls knock it down.  The grass springs back to upright posture until the real storms of winter rest for too long on its back.  I cut it down in March with a hedge saw.  What used to be an hour long job that produced RSI in hands and thumb became a five minute task.  Our actor is Miscanthus sinensis 'Gracillimus'.

After Cassie's post that showed ebony needles, I found them for sale at Patternworks.  I asked the DH if he wanted more Aurora 8 yarn for his next scarf, since he loved the last one so well.  He all but sneered.  "Storebought??  I want handspun.  Make me a hat out of handspun."  I so love this man.

We settled on the Polwarth for color and texture.  I'm spinning it thicker, to end up with DK or sportweight once it is plyed.  My search for something interesting to ply with it was brief, meeting all criteria for a no-brainer.  I had been playing with grey baby alpaca that I also got from Toni.  I only have an ounce.  Must acquire more. 

*Hello?*  *Toni?*  *Etherknitter.  A-gain.*  *Can you send me all your alpaca?  I mean some of your baby grey alpaca?*  *Anything else interesting hanging around?*  *Sure, send all of that too.*  *Bye!*

On the left, Polwarth in Wintergarden.  On the right, baby grey alpaca. 

I'll wait until I turn the heel on the Trekking sock before I expose it to the light of flash.  And I'm waiting for the Elsebeth Lavold pattern book to arrive before I can start the husband sweater.  In the meantime, I could not resist two balls of Karabella Boise at my LYS.  I have the same colorway as this knitter.  It's already cast on, and jostling to become a scarf.

Life itself is the proper binge

Last Sunday, spinning with spinbuds, was the last time I didn't think of Thanksgiving.  I am shamelessly guilty of old news and bad bloggerhood.  The day was perfectly described by Cindy and Judy.  The sun was out, the temperature was unseasonably warm.  The drive to Judy's was a last die-hard New Englander's leaf peeping exercise.  Only browns and dark golds were left.  The greys of the trunks and branches were relieved by green pines.  The eye shifts from color to texture.  The tracery of tree bones against the sky catches the blue and the sun.

It's taken me some time (ask Julia) to understand fiber gatherings.  The protocol is that there is always food.  Lots of food.  It is always very good food, too.   Then, the secret protocol is you have to bring things that you are excited to be working on.  The double secret protocol?  Took me awhile.  One must wear one's own handknit socks.   

Judy was a fine and thoughtful hostess.  The picture on Cindy's blog shows a woman awash in pure contentment.  There is a cup of tea in my hand.  Lorna's Laces socks on my feet.  My wheel is in front of me, and I'm about to spend several hours in the company of good women, good spinners, delightful people.  It doesn't get better than that.

Thanksgiving went without a hitch.  The "E2" error that stopped one of my ovens dead on Wednesday night went away with simply turning a circuit breaker on and off.   The scene in the kitchen for the three nut/cranberry tart looked something like this:
The wines were chosen for softness, and current fruitiness.  They lined up, dutiful soldiers, for the last picture before contributing their part to the festivities.
Jonathan, for whom I knit the alpaca/silk scarf last winter, brought a tarte tatin that he made that morning.  It's a culinary high-wire act, because you don't know if it came out successfully until the LAST MINUTE.  That's when you either say, "Ta-DA!" or, "I hope you have other desserts planned?"
And although we awoke to this -
everyone made it safely here and back.  Most of us were groaning in the usual post-feast manner at some point during the day. 

I hope yours was warm, happy, and contented also.    Jonathan, who is 6'5", helped us hang my newest kitchen decor, which I think says it all.
John the Carver, who is only 5'11", smiles, and proves the point of the sign above his head.

We made a vow we'd always be friends...How could we know that promises end?

Etherknitter:  "I can't blog this."

Toomuchwool:  "Yes you can. "

Etherknitter:  "No I can't.  It's humiliating."

I came home from knitgroup on Wednesday evening.  The DH met me at the door, cheery and enthusiastic.  Me?  Distraught.  Morose.  Contemplating tears.

DH:  "What's wrong?"

Etherknitter:  "There comes a time like this in every marriage. "

DH:  "Huh?"

Etherknitter:  "I'm really sorry, truly I am."

DH:  "Uh-oh?"

Etherknitter:  I know we've been together a long time, and we've weathered our fair share of conflicts, but, dear, this is it."

DH:  "WHAT IS IT??"

Etherknitter:  "I can't make that sweater.  I can't.  I won't.  I've knit the same six rows for the freaking swatch, SWATCH, I tell you, I haven't even approached the damn sweater.  The swatch, let me inform you, is TWENTY THREE rows long, and I haven't gotten past row seven.  And I can't.  Every time I rip back, I have no idea if I've preserved the architecture of the twisted stitches on the previous row.  No matter how many times I've done this, I can't tell squat.  This isn't fun.  No more.  PLEASE don't make me do this again.  Choose another f***ing pattern."

I know a look of relief passed over his handsome face as I stomped away.

I'm still humiliated.  Let's drop it, okay? 

More miracles of computerized communication.  I was giving Kellee the short version of this.  (I thought it was short...her eyes may have been rolling to the back of her head by the end of the email exchange.)   The new pattern the DH chose that evening was 100% seed stitch.  I thought about that overnight, and then realized I would be certifiably nuts, complete with knitted straitjacket, by the time I had finished something like THAT.  She linked me to a pattern that she thought met my criteria (not that damn twisted stitch thing, and forget a Starmore for now, and PLEASE, no seed stitch).  (Cassie's comment on all this:  "Book your wrist surgery now, because by the time you finish a man's seed stitch sweater, you'll need it.")

Kellee linked me to this.  Fireworks (the good kind this time) went off in my humbled knitter's brain.  Not only is it simple enough for his discerning, understated taste, it is even calls for the same gauge as the briefly abandoned Rowan Wool/Cotton.  AND, I even have a swatch done for that yarn, in st st, that makes gauge for the Lavold pattern.  And best of all?  I like the sweater.

I guess I've just blogged this, after all.

No wonder I love spinning.  I don't expect exquisite performance from my endeavors.  There is no product that needs to happen.   I plied up some BFL that I spun in August right after getting my Schacht.  It is quite overspun, as you can see from some of the corkscrews on the left.
I like it despite its faults, all 187 yards of woolly goodness.  I have some overspun wool/mohair to ply, and some nicely spun Cormo/silk that I've finished.  Those need to wait until the proper spinner's housecleaning mood.  In the meantime, I've started some Indigo Moon merino 50%/alpaca 40%/silk 10%.  Doesn't that combination sound lovely?  I could see a scarf in my future.  It's a not-blue color I bought at Rhinebeck.  The only blue you can see (in the middle) is just part of the leader.  This roving has hints of purple and occasional russet shot through the fibers.   I have spared you a picture of the diz'd roving spilling out on the floor, looking extremely medical in its coloration.

A berry good Saturday

The fiber arts seem to favor people who have a visual or tactile learning style.  The plying workshop at Julia's on Saturday helped clarify many aspects of spinning that book consultation would not explain.  Barbara Clorite's knowledge base was vast and inclusive.  I could only sit, spin, and silently envy her storehouse of information and skill.  Part of being a good teacher is giving the student enough independence to fall down and get up on her own.  And correction without intimidation is an art.  Barbara rose to the challenge of teaching multiple spinners of differing experience levels. 
Here we are, a confluence of wheels.  I always find it amazing that we could do this even if the power went out.

Testing the yarn for balance, plying 2, 3, 4, multiples beyond, Navaho, Andean, Beauty Queen techniques, cable, boucle, all are no longer mysterious and unattainable.  At the end of the afternoon, my brain was full.   The only yarn for which a picture told the tale was the boucle:
Three plies,  and a remarkable sense of achievement went along with that small skein.

I brought my small bit of Cormo to the workshop to gather opinions.  Had I washed it enough?  The short answer was "No."   The washed fleece, and then combed/hand carded fleece became this:
This is picking it out from the tips, lock by crimpy lock.  Washing a group of locks is straightforward, but the picking out process is slow.  Barbara says sending out a shorter length fleece like Rambouillet is asking, nay, begging for neps.  To say I'm conflicted about this would be understatement. 

The clever gardener plans for many seasons in the life of her display.  Rosemary Verey, a famous British gardener, had this covered.  "If our gardens are to be more than graves commemorating summer's beauty, we must start by using our eyes." 

That explains garden pictures in November:
Left, Aronia arbutifolia 'Brilliantissima'

Its common name is chokeberry.  Birds will only eat it after all other berries are gone.

Right, Ilex pedunculosa.  This is a Latin name that speaks for itself.  It's a holly (ilex) with dangling berries.  The squirrels love these.  Last year, they chewed off whole branches of the shrub in their frenzy.  I had to strip the remaining berries off to save enough woody parts for the shrub to survive.   The leaves, like many hollies, stay green all winter. 

Knitting:  not much.   The Trekking sock is making slow progress.  I can't decide what big project to start next.  The husband recoils in horror every time I mention his sweater.  I'm still swatching that one.  This seems to be a decision that will make itself obvious when it is the right time.   I can flow with this zen aspect.  It is giving me a chance to commune with my stash.  That's something to think about for the next post.   Perhaps I can offer some perspective, at that point, to the poor soul who found my blog with a Google search for "knit straitjacket".

Domino Theory

I'm feeling at knitting loose ends.  With Marla, and the stop-gap scarf done, I'm thrown back to WIPs that are the knitting equivalent of juvenile delinquents.  They are unyielding to my authority, arrogant, flip, difficult, disobedient.  The swatch for the husband sweater is going very S L O W L Y.  It has a leaf lace pattern that is written in Britishese.  I need to rewrite it before I can get it to flow.

The Elizabeth bag is almost done.  Nine stitches of kitchener, and some washing machine abuse is in our future.  Kitchener will be a new skill.  That's fine.  The washing machine is a problem.  I have a front-loader which WILL NOT let you check on the progress half-way through the wash.  One can understand the logic behind this.  Few people felt knitting objects.  It will make the felting process...interesting.  That point of knitting?  Where I said, "Self, you'll figure this out when the time comes"?  I haven't.

Cassie was a strong influence on the latest WIP cast-on.  She said, "Etherknitter?  Cast on a sock.  Use Trekking."  There may be some literary license in that, but the mandate was clear.  She laughed at me, scolded me for having only one pair of #1 dpns in the house.   So I used the #1.5s I scored at The Fold in September, and did as she commanded.   The color is #71 of the blogworld's current favorite yarn.  I found it at School Products in NYC, and quickly, reflexively made it mine.  It really didn't matter how much OTHER sock yarn I had already acquired that day of the Yarn Crawl.  The blogworld had infected me with blind need for this yarn.

I am only a middle domino in the whole series of knitbloggers to topple for this sock yarn.  As my bloglines subscriptions have expanded, I see countless sock knitters happily Trekking on.  I, too, am one of the lemmings. 

Ode to a Lemming Pt X: Illustrated
by John H. Chandler

    Lemminglemminglemminglemminglemminglemminglemming
 					       cliff .
					       cliff .
					       cliff l
					       cliff e
					       cliff m
					       cliff m
					       cliff i
					       cliff n
					       cliff g
					       cliff .
					       cliff .
					       cliff .
					       cliff *SPLAT*

This sock is the FIRST sock that didn't have to be cast on three 
times before progressing on through the cuff.  So there is no
*splat*. Yet. (You can find more lemming poetry here.)

The fall colors are disappearing rapidly.  Some of the trees have 
dropped all their leaves in a heap at their toes.  They mimic 
a young  seductress, with her silk gown puddled at her feet.
The colorways have transformed rapidly to muted russets,
burgundies and golds. I'm sure it is not coincidence that these 
are the culinary colors that will appear in two weeks on my 
Thanksgiving table. 

The last gasp of color display:










Acer palmatum 'Bloodgood'(the heirloom variety of
Japanese maple in New England)

Then, Stewartia pseudo-
camellia, followed by an
incandescent maple called
October Glory (Acer rubrum,
or swamp maple).

Crazy eights

The sight of a scarf, splayed out on the blocking board, never fails to bring a wash of pleasure.  Scarves rarely lead us into the abyss of knitter's doubt.  They don't take multitudes of hours to finish.  They almost always fit.  Mr. Etherknitter queried, "Is it done yet?  Is it dry"?  The happy enthusiasm brought a second wave of pleasure.

Pattern:  Knitting Calendar, November 8th, Purse Stitch
Yarn:  Aurora 8, Melange, Color 008
Needles:  #8
10/16/05 - 11/06/05

How could I resist posting this on November 8th?

Retrospectoscope

I have never enjoyed difficult relationships.  Despite my obvious penchant for self-flagellation as a knitter and spinner, I don't pursue angst.  When it appears to seek me out, my path veers gently in another direction, until my psyche is out of sight, out of mind. 

Marla was a series of decisions that became that difficult relationship.  Swatching helped.  The swatch grew by 1/4 stitch/4 inches.  I chose a completely different yarn than that specified in the pattern.  The pattern was written for 37.5" (too small) and 42" (too big).  The bridge across the water suddenly starts narrowing into a tightrope here.  I cast on for the 37.5" sizing, added 4 stitches to both front and back (gauge was 5.5 st/inch), and factored in the swatch growth.   I cropped 1 1/2" off the total length so it would fall at a more complimentary part of my hip.

While I was knitting, I noted that all over blogland, silk and silk mixes grow.  This was what I counted on.  (So why did I mourn prior to blocking?)  I did a Stephanie -style soak-it-til-it-burbles blocking.  (Surely you can hear the sound of fabric being submerged, and making that last soft, desperate noise as the air escapes from the folds?)

It worked.  I learned I don't always enjoy the tightrope.  Sometimes when you follow the pattern, you get screwed, and sometimes when you don't follow the pattern, you get screwed.  There isn't much sympathy either way.  Sometimes, the bridge that became a tightrope becomes a bridge that has been washed out with no warning sign on the path.

The retrospectoscope (a very powerful instrument) tells me I probably should have chosen a less dressy yarn for a casual sweater.   I'm okay with that, because I do love the fabric and the cable.  It won't be as versatile a sweater as I had hoped, but I'm good with that, too.  I'm not sure I will wear it to the Melissa Leapman workshop in December.  Would she be scandalized?  Amused?  Or pleased? 

The husband scarf is almost done.  I'm weaving in ends, and getting ready to block.  I hope to have pictures this weekend. 

The leaves have finally hit their color peak this week in my neck of the woods.  My yard is in full formal dress.  The focus shifts from floral display, to the oranges, reds, and yellows that the trees and shrubs are flaunting.  Gingko, Japanese maple (the same one that shelters Hotei in my May post on spring rituals) and Parrotia persica are in full cry.

Marlalyn Monroe

Pattern:  Marla  from Melissa Leapman's Hot Knits
Yarn:  Alchemy Synchronicity, Foggy Notion from Purl, NYC
Needle:  #5 for cuffs/hem, #6 for body
Started 3/05, completed 10/14/05
Styling credits:  Cassie
Photography:  Nikon 5700, timed photo