Etherknitter

Blue for good reasons

Okay.  Let's get evidence of my weakness out of the way first.  When I *click* on the Paypal icon, I ponder the issue of my sanity.  It's just before Maryland!  Helloooo!  What do we think we are doing here?

That clearly has not slowed me down a whit.  Rowan Magpie from an eBay auction is incriminatingly visible on the left.  I blame Knitting the Blues for this one.  She swatched Am Kamin at Claudia's in January in this yarn.  I fondled the swatches, blind, like at a wine tasting, without knowing what yarn I was feeling.  I voted for the Magpie.  Then I had to have some. 

SweetGeorgia's sportweight sock yarn, Speed Demon, in the Libertine colorway.  All her yarn should be named speed demon, because you have to be one to get even one skein before they sell out. 

Two Fleece Artist selections from the SimplySocks website.  I want most of the sceptics to note that only one is blue.  Some will still see blue in purple, blue in green, and me turning blue trying to convince you that I buy other than blue.  You know who you are.

The FOs seem to flock together.  Eric's glovelets are done.   That always brings Grumperina's finish-mantra to mind  (stick a fork in me, I'm DONE).   So I did. 

Actually, they were just blocking pins.  And only in the thumbs. 

The spring ephemerals are in full cry.  I bought Hepatica americana because of the name.  What could possibly look like liver?  It's the leaves - color and shape.  The backdrop green leaf is Mazus reptans, a genial groundcover that makes no demands on a busy gardener's energies.

It's been a miserable week in Etherknitterland.  The short story is that at week 6, there is no evidence of bone formation.  We celebrated that news this morning by dumping 15 oz of coffee onto the white carpeting by the bed, and drenching the walnut bedside dresser on the way down.  I can hear the collective sighs of blogland right now, and I can hear the same thoughts running through all the knitterly minds:

"I'm SO glad that's not me."

Knit/spin/weed/drink tea/repeat

Winter is focus.  Spring is distraction.  ADHD is just an extreme pole of human attention span.   This must be how bees feel when they see SO many good restaurants in the garden. 

Distraction has gone hand in hand with an inability to tolerate frustration.  Mr. Etherknitter's wounds reach far in their impact on our lives.  Knitting has proceeded at an unprecedented, disturbing minimum.  I DO have a FO to flash.

Trekking XXL, colorway 77
Usual st st pattern, Dutch heel, kitchenered toes
Let'snotdiscusswhenstartedcomparedtowhenfinishedok?
#1 1/2 needles (love 'em)

I'm one skein short of an afghan.  It turns out to be the best knit in the house because of the absence of frustration in its mindlessness.  I briefly thought of binding off now, and abandoning that 13th ball.  I realized that the leftover yarn would haunt me for the rest of my fiber life.  I knew I would have to BURN it, and even that wouldn't have exorcized the demon, so I joined the ball and kept going.  Most knitters seem to feel the same way about ending a big project...must-be-done-nownownow-can't-wait-hurryhurry... 

It just doesn't work that way, so I spin lots, and do the gruntwork of gardening. 

Four ounces of 60% cormo/40% alpaca roving sounded really good.  It turned out to be problematic fiber.  I tried to catch a picture of the millions (okay, thousands) of neps, but Nikon wouldn't do it for me.  I had trouble predrafting.  That fiber mix should separate silkily.  My spinning learning curve took a steep upward slope when I realized that the vendor had sold me fiber that had partially felted in the dyeing process.  Shame on them.  $18.50 for neppy, felted roving. 

I thought about sending it back.  Return postage, plus the prospect of the inevitable tussle that is called customer service, provided enough disincentive to abandon that path.  I considered tossing it in the trash.  I'm WAY too much of a packrat for that solution.

I spun it.  Predrafting hurt my left thumb joints.  I discovered that spinning it by letting the pull of the wheel draft it out decreased the number of neps that got through.  More tension = smoother fiber.  But I also found that I probably overspun the fiber.  No worries.  I've decided to ply it on itself, and use it as an experiment to see if I can get a tighter two-ply without unbalancing it.  Some of my skeins have shown evidence of losing more twist than is optimal in the final product.  So this is a logical next step, using fiber that I'm not going to obsess about.

The shade garden is a spring glory.  These crazy ladies were in a big rush to show their petticoats.  It is still early season, and they had to keep their coats wrapped around them for warmth.  They are Sanguinaria canadensis.  Their friends call them bloodroot.

 

 

H is for Harbinger

har·bin·ger   (härbn-jr)
n.     One that indicates or foreshadows what is to come; a forerunner. 

---

[Middle English herbengar, person sent ahead to arrange lodgings, from Old French herbergeor, from herbergier, to provide lodging for, from herberge, lodging, of Germanic origin. See koro- in Indo-European Roots.]

I'm late to the party on a harbinger of spring post.   The season is here, now, finally.   The croci are first.

 

The yellows group together, probably to share pollinators.  I have a love-hate relationship with forsythia.  It's trying to take over, and I have trouble whacking it enough to really do a good pruning job.  It loves the bad soil and little water where the landscaper planted it.  I can't find any shrub with the same easygoing nature to replace it, so I haven't.  Then the yellow explosion happens, and we get along once more.

Pieris japonica was foisted on me by the same landscaper.  He dug five holes, put the shrubs (still burlapped) in place, then called me over.

"Is this okay?"  He squinted up at me as he asked the question.

"No.  What else can I put here other than this?"  He knew I would say that.

*silence*

I gave up.  Do you ever just get tired of fighting?  I knew it would be easier to just rip them out when I figured out an alternative.  Ten years later, they are still there, and about to get rudely ripped out this year.  I call them FPs.  P is for pieris.  So, of course, this year they bloomed the best.  They are harbingers of the spring garden.

This plant is a harbinger of pleasure and pain.  It's another wisteria.  I'm beating and hacking it into tree form.  The back garden is a WIP, so I haven't found a place yet to plant it.  In pots of ever-increasing size, it winters over in the garage.  This year, the warmer temperatures inside forced blooms (the first for this plant).  This one is special because it is pink, rather than purple or white.   She and I will lock horns many times, for her nature is exuberance, and my garden is small. 

The crabapple is pushing out leaves, and starting to bud.  It's a harbinger of mid-spring.  Yes, that is leftover spinning roving, out for the birds to use as nesting material.  No takers?  Quel dommage!

Artemesia 'Oriental Limelight' is so pretty.  Too bad it behaves like a thug.  This shot shows another sort of harbinger:  lots of work ahead in Etherknitterland.  Last year, the plant ran rampant while I was off my feet foot, and I will be paying the piper now.  It is EVERYWHERE. 

I have so missed blogging in the last two weeks.  I'm back on schedule now.  Mr. Etherknitter remains in good spirits.  When my colleagues at work ask how he is doing, I tell them it's  like watching paint dry.  There are no visible day-to-day changes.  I'll post an x-ray as soon as I can figure out how to get it off the hospital 'bot and into my ZoomBrowser.

G is for Gadget

G is for gadget
A yarn roller-upper,
Have many desserts
Without eating supper

A good spinner is stymied
'til she plys up her wool,
Now I just reel it up
And my bobbins aren't full.

Credits:
1.  Mamacate for responding to the "my bobbins are full what do I do now?" plea
2.  Toni of The Fold for sending out a Schacht bobbin winder really really quickly
3.  The Woolery for having lots of LeClerc spools at $2.95 each
4.  Mr. Etherknitter for sitting in bed across the room, holding the bobbins, while I wind the  spools using this nifty gadget