Monthly Archives: October 2012

Fuzzy and Blue

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Two years ago, at Halloween, we spent a week in Edinburgh.  This Scottish city is truly fantastic. While we were there, I was knitting my Leyfi pullover, so in my mind Leyfi is associated both with Edinburgh and with Halloween.  Since today is both Halloween and a Wednesday, I thought that I would write a Wearability Wednesday post showcasing Leyfi.

Leyfi is a big, warm pullover with a lacy leaf panel running down both sleeves and across the yoke.  The photos in this post were all taken this month, after two years of wear.  Leyfi is designed by Rosemary (Romi) Hill, and was published in the Fall 2010 edition of Interweave Knits. I got the magazine in the mail, and then went out right away to buy yarn and cast on for this project.  That doesn’t happen too often; I usually let pattern designs float in my subconscious for awhile before I decide to give them a go.

As an aside, I had been following Romi Hill’s designs since I first heard of her, partly because I like her work, and partly because her business is called Designs by Romi.  This caught my eye because my sister, whose name is Romi (not a nickname, and not at all a common name) has owned a business for the past twenty years called Gardens by Romi.  My sister Romi, by the way, is a kick ass garden designer; you can see some of her work here.

I wear this sweater a lot.  It is a very big and very warm sweater, without too much shape.  In my case, it is a bit too big; you can definitely see this in the below photo:

However, I kind of like it this way.  I have seen many Leyfis that are more fitted and they look wonderful.  My Leyfi is the sweater I pull out when I want to go for a walk on a brisk fall day, or curl up with a mug of hot chocolate on a cold winter day.  It is like wearing your man’s sweater in terms of its cozy, cushy, relaxing, warmth appeal, but still manages to look pretty and feminine.  My kids used to frequently play the recording of Grover, from The Muppets, singing Fuzzy and Blue.  That’s what my Leyfi is – fuzzy and blue and comforting.

Despite this, it can still look pretty sharp.  Here are some photos of me wearing it a few weeks ago while walking around the grounds of Waddesdon Manor.  This Renaissance-style château was designed by the French architect Destailleur in 1874 for Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild.  It is now owned by the National Trust, and is a lovely property set in the Buckinghamshire countryside in England.

The manor house is open for tours, as is the wine cellar, and we have done that in the past, but on a beautiful, crisp, fall day like this one, who wants to go inside?  There is a sculpture exhibit currently on display on the grounds at Waddesdon, all of contemporary sculpture, which looks both fabulous and bizarre against the Renaissance background of the buildings and gardens.

You can see that Leyfi looks stylish and cool, even when combined with clunky hiking boots and jeans.  And see what I mean about the extraposition of new sculpture and old architecture?  The piece which we enjoyed the most was a set of mirrored shapes scattered around the leaf-strewn grass (Geometric Mirrors by Jeppe Hein). Your reflection, and the reflection of the trees and gardens, are all thrown back at different angles, and change every time you move.  Very cool.  Here, Doug tried to capture it on camera:

The pattern for Leyfi calls for two strands of yarn held together.  One is an aran weight merino wool, and the other a laceweight silk cashmere blend.  I was unable to find any similar yarn combinations, and I was very eager to cast on, so I settled for a very thick Debbie Bliss Donegal Luxury Tweed Chunky.  I like the colour a lot, and like the tweediness of it, with bits of blues and creams and greys.  However, if I were to make it again I would not use this yarn.   I think that the combination of yarn called for in the pattern probably produces a lighter fabric with more drape.  Plus, the Donegal Chunky gave me some gauge issues.  This should have been a super quick sweater to knit, but I ended up ripping and re-knitting quite a few times.  Here are some of my notes from my Ravelry project page:

“I tried the sweater on a few inches after joining in the round at the underarms, and discovered that, despite having gotten gauge on my swatch, the sweater was definitely running big. I was getting 13 st/ 4″ instead of the 14 called for. I ripped back about 6 inches until just before the first set of increases. Then I recalculated, and put in fewer increases, aiming at a finished size somewhere between the 36 and the 40 (I ended up with 132 stitches around at the bust).

I tried it on again for length when I was nearly finished and decided that I would prefer it with some waist shaping so I ripped back again. I added three sets of decreases, and then three sets of increases for the hips. I knit the sleeves on dpns and I must say I really dislike working lace with chunky yarn on dpns.

After finishing, and casting off, I tried the sweater on again, and decided that I really disliked the rolled edges. Though I didn’t mind this feature in the original pattern, the yarn that Romi Hill used had a lot more drape than the Donegal Chunky, and the rolled edges [with my yarn] looked terribly chunky and clumsy. I could also tell that it was going to get worse each time I put it on. So, I ripped back the bottom and the cuffs, and added 5 rows of seed stitch, and then cast off in seed stitch. This gave some stability to the edges, and I think it really ended up looking nice.”

I only ever wear this with jeans.  I suppose it would look good with a shortish skirt and tights and boots, or maybe a pair of wide-wale cords, but I am pretty sure that I’ve only paired it with jeans.  In this incarnation, it is a casual, outdoorsy sweater.  I think that Leyfi, if knit up in different yarn and slightly more fitted, could be a dressier piece.  Also, because of the width of the sleeves, I find it uncomfortable to fit this under a coat.  Therefore, I usually wear it outdoors on top of a turtleneck, and have Leyfi function as my coat.  In short, this is a very cute pullover, and very easy to make.  Because it is knit with chunky wool, and has a top-down all in one construction with no seams, it is very fast.  I’ve been wearing it for two years, and it still looks like new, with no pilling or wear.

Ravi means “sun”

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I finished knitting my Ravi cardigan a week ago, but haven’t been able to post it before now.  This is due to (1) not being able to find my bottle of wool wash, even though it was right where it was supposed to be and I looked there twenty times, and (2) not being able to take any photos because it is cold, grey, wet and drizzly.  Did you know Ravi means “sun”?  Regardless of it’s name, my Ravi has no power over the weather. Today, in total frustration, we ran out during a short break in the rain to take a few photos.  Doug kindly stood out in the cold and damp, even though he was feverish.

I reported previously that I was having issues with the back hem of this pullover.  It has a curve which is formed with short rows.  On my un-blocked piece, there was an unattractive bulge produced by the shaping.  I hoped that this would block out.  I was also debating about whether or not to put in buttons, and pointed out that on many of the Ravi sweaters I had seen, the buttons gaped.  I published that post late in the evening and when I woke up in the morning I had a note from Carol Feller (Ravi’s designer) in my Ravelry mailbox.  I thought I would repeat it here in it’s entirety because she made some very good points.

Ravi
Sent at 10:04 PM October 14, 2012

“Saw your blog post but was having trouble sending comment, so thought I’d do it here!

I’ve got a suggestion for you on the hem, put the sts on waste yarn and give the short row hem a good steam or spray blocking. If you like it then leave it in. Take care to work the I cord bind off loosely (possibly even bigger needles) to ensure it doesn’t pull the edge in.
Buttonband wise, you are in control of button spacing and the weight of the buttons. Gaping is usually due to knitters using negative ease in their cardigan.”

Isn’t that cool?  What a great idea for the back hem.  Basically, it allows you to partially block your sweater and then make crucial design decisions before doing the finishing.  I don’t know why this never occurred to me.  In the end, however, I didn’t try it.  I decided that all of the knitters who had finished their Ravis couldn’t be wrong, and that it would block flat.  They were right, by the way:

As to the buttons, Carol is absolutely right: each knitter has control of the weight of the buttons and also the spacing, but there were some mitifying factors at play here.  First, the buttons had to be big enough that the I-cord could loop around them (the I-cord acts as the button loop); since the I-cord is rather thick this leaves out really small buttons.  Second, the placement of the buttons is affected by the lace panel in the yoke.  Both of these issues could easily be solved.  However, in my case, the third is the killer:  As you can see from the photos, I knit this sweater with a good deal of negative ease.

(Note to Emma: yes, I did run out and take these photos without stying my hair and doing my makeup.  Furthermore, I am not even smiling.  Trust me, I looked worse in the other photos.)  See the rather wide gap between the two sides of the front?  This is what is meant by negative ease – the width of the cardigan is less than the width of my body.  In a pullover, if the fabric is sufficiently stretchy, this gives you shapeliness and va-va-voom.  In a cardigan, it gives you buttons that gape.  Why so much negative ease?  Well, partly it is because I knew that garter stitch knit at this gauge would have a tendency to stretch.  Mostly, however, it is because I gained ten pounds over the summer and I decided to be optimistic in planning this sweater.  Easy  on, easy off, no?

Now, that we’ve noted the negative ease, look back at the above photo.  Can you see how absolutely gorgeous the finishing is on the front edges of the cardigan?  The attached I-cord is so elegant, the line so beautiful…..this is the real reason to forego the buttons.  I think the edge looks perfect just as it is.  I don’t want any buttons cluttering it up.

Now that I’ve finished knitting two great Carol Feller sweaters in a row (both of them for me!), I can heartily recommend her designs.  They are intelligently written, witty, architecturally interesting and fun to knit.  Next up – a sweater for Leah based on a medieval jewelry design.

Wouldn’t it be gloverley?

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I have been doing a fair bit of knitting lately which has not yet made its way onto the pages of this blog.  (Perhaps this is due to my photographer and blog collaborator/instigator having moved half way around the globe to attend university?)  I have finished knitting Ravi, and think it will work out just fine.  It still needs to be blocked, however, so it will be another week before I manage to post it as I can only take photos on the weekends now that the days are shorter.  Don’t worry: I will post a complete report.  I have also made not one, not two or three, but four small projects in the past weeks which I hope to tell you about soon.  Since I am not going to report on my knitting progress here, I will instead tell you about a great designer in an interesting niche market.

Let me start by noting, I have cold hands.  As soon as the weather starts to turn chilly, my hands become icicles and stay that way until June comes around.  One would think, given that my hands are perpetually cold and that I am perpetually knitting, that I would have dozens of pairs of hand knitted gloves, mittens and mitts.  You would think wrong.  I have always been too addicted to sweater knitting, and despite my best intentions, I never get around to knitting things like hats, scarves, mitts, and socks.  This year, however, I am determined. I will knit mitts! I will have warm hands!!

I have spent the past few weeks trying to narrow down my search for the perfect hand knit accessories for the hand.  I have primarily focused on fingerless knits for two reasons.  First, because my hands are always cold at work, where I spend most of the day at the keyboard typing away.  So I need mitts that will look classy and suitable for the office but that will leave my fingers free for typing.  Second, the thought of knitting gloves has always put me off.  All of those fingers!  Imagine actually knitting five fingers for each glove, all of those tiny stitches on tiny DPNs, all of those threads to weave in!

However, one look at the designs of Julia Mueller of Laris Designs may turn any knitter into a glove fanatic.  (Or cause any glove fanatic to take up knitting!)  Julia  pretty much exclusively designs gloves.  She has a few patterns for mitts or mittens, or other items, but she is primarily a knit designer of gloves.  And her gloves are wonderful.  I should note that her webpage is fairly outdated and she doesn’t seem to have published any new designs this year.  She does, however, have an active Ravelry group (Laris Designs) and enough glove patterns to keep you busy knitting for a good while.

Given the glove fixation with five (for obvious reasons), I have picked five of her glove designs to show you here.  It was very difficult to pick my five favorites; in fact this list changes daily.  But here are five absolutely fabulous designs from Julia Mueller.  First off, Three Oaks:

I think this is just beautiful.  I have a lovely brown dress coat for the winter, and these would be perfect with it in this exact colour and yarn.  Or, if you are into more avant-garde designs, how about the cooky, crazy Blue Hands:

If you have access to Ravelry (and if you don’t, you should), check out the lovely examples of Blue Hands that are there.  People have knit them in many different colour combinations and they are seriously cool.  I particularly like the more organic combinations, using deep rusts and browns and blues.

This next design is called Arkema, and combines knitting and beading with some beautiful cabling:

Doug says this design looks very architectural and art deco.  It would be a great design for learning new techniques; there are so many great knitted features here for a knitter trying to expand their skills.

The design called Morgan incorporates a lace up ribbon:

Isn’t it beautiful?  And, of course, you could have ribbons in many different colours, allowing you to instantly change the look of the glove.  And you could have velvet ribbons, sparkly ribbons, lacy ribbons….. there are endless possibilities here.  Plus, the patterning on the glove is cool. I love how the cable goes right up the middle finger.

I saved my favorite for last.  This is the pattern called Eve:

It is one of Julia’s earlier patterns.  I have had it in my queue on Ravelry since 2010.  I love everything about this design.  (And I love it in green!  This green!  Isn’t it great?)  I have always intended to start with this one, if I ever manage to get over my glove knitting phobia.  But now, I don’t know – it’s so hard to choose.

I really love the way that Julia has taken a very small and very restricted canvas – the hand – and really pushed it.  In her hands (get it?) the glove is imbued with creativity, technical skill and engineering.

Ravi revived

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Some of you may be wondering what happened to Ravi.  I was knitting away on it fairly steadily throughout August, and since then it has done a disappearing act.  The truth is that Ravi and I have had a number of disagreements.  I need to solve them before I can finish.  These disagreements revolve around three design features.

First, I had major issues with the sleeves.  I think I’ve worked them out now, as you can see from the above photo, but it was touch and go for awhile.  First, Ravi is designed with three-quarter length sleeves and I couldn’t decide whether to keep them that length or do full sleeves.  I finally decided on the full sleeves and I think it was a pretty good decision.  I like them.  I think the I-cord edging and the fact that they do not come down to a ribbed cuff as many sweaters do, gives my Ravi the appearance of a jacket.  Kind of chic.  That was only one isse I had with the sleeves, however, and not the primary one.

I hated knitting these sleeves in the round.  I always hate knitting sleeves in the round, even though it is all the rage these days.  I don’t see what the problem is with seams.  Knitting the sleeves in the round when the body of the cardigan is knit back and forth leads to its own set of problems, since the gauge doesn’t match.  In addition, knitting garter stitch in the round is not fun (since you have to alternate knit and purl rows even while turning out garter).  And I found that I could not knit it, no matter how I tried or what method I used, without creating “ladders” or “ridges” running down the sleeves.  You can clearly see one in the above photo, running from the elbow to the cuff on my left sleeve.  I am hoping that with a little luck I can block these out.

By the way, once I had almost finished the second sleeve, I decided to check the archives of the Ravi KAL on Ravelry to see what other knitters had to say about the sleeves.  I mentioned in a previous post that I didn’t really follow the KAL, in part because there was so much posted, in part probably pure obstinance.  I was dismayed to discover that many knitters, frustrated with knitting the sleeves in the round, ripped back and knit them flat and seamed them.  Argh!  Why didn’t I do that?  It would have taken me a third of the time and saved tons of aggravation.  Maybe I should have followed the KAL more diligently.  You think?

Annoying design feature number two has to do with the short row shaped back hem.  Here is how it looks on the pattern, as designed and modelled by Carol Feller (taken from her blog, Stolen Stitches):

Here is how it looks at the moment on my Ravi:

See that horrible bulge?  (Some of this bulge is just from the stitches still sitting “live” on the needle at the bottom, which pulls them in a bit.  But some of the bulge is caused by the short row shaping, and it looks terrible.)  Now, once again I searched the Ravi KAL posts, and according to them, many knitters had this problem and they all claim that it blocks out with a good wet block and steam.  Carol Feller agrees, and there are photos to prove it.  Many of them.  Still, I find myself torn between doing all of the finishing on the cardigan and then discovering that the bulge won’t block out and having to rip it all out, or just biting the bullet and ripping it out now and leaving out this feature all together.  In the latter scenario, I would just have a straight hem at the bottom.  The photo below shows both how great the sleeves look at this bracelet length, and how awful the bulge at the back hem looks.

I go back and forth every day about whether to rip this or not.  I think I have probably decided to trust my fellow knitters  and block it out.  It certainly looks great in Carol’s Ravi, and she didn’t steer me wrong with Killybegs, which was an excellent design.

This leads to the third issue and the one that really has me stumped: the buttons, buttonholes, and I-cord edging.  The design calls for an attached I-cord edge that goes all the way down the fronts and around the bottom.  The I-cord looks supremely elegant and gives a very tailored edge to the cardigan. The buttonholes are knit into the I-cord as loops.  I have looked at all the Ravi photos and have found that I really am not happy with the buttons.  On some sweaters they gape, which really detracts from what should be an elegant edge.  On others, the spacing is wrong (and this is hard to fix, because of the lace panel, which leads you to make certain judgements about placement).  On many, the buttons are too heavy and pull down the fabric of the cardigan on one side, making the whole sweater lop-sided.  Some Ravis exhibit all three of these problems.

I have at least five options: (1) Stop fretting, and just follow the pattern.  (2) Knit a button band.  This would entail picking up stitches down both fronts and along the bottom, and knitting a band in garter, complete with button holes. (3) Put in a zipper.  This may be a good option but a slightly scary one as I have never done this before. (4) Use hooks and eyes to make an invisible closure.  (5) Don’t make any closure. Knit the I-cord edging and then wear it open or use a pin to close it.   Not a day goes by when I don’t change my mind about which option to use.  Today I’ve changed it twice….

In a Hazy Kidsilk Haze Daze

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I have been thinking a lot about Kidsilk Haze.  I love this yarn; so pretty, so soft, so light, so warm.  I was in London this weekend, and stopped by Loop (a great yarn shop in Islington).  They have Kidsilk displayed on a rod on the wall, one ball of each colour threaded through the rod.  Such beautiful shades; I love their pastels, but I am wild about the deep jewel tones.  I have also been wishing to knit myself a new pullover in Kidsilk Haze. To properly set up this discussion, I must show you a really unflattering photo of me.  In 2007, I knit myself a pullover from Kidsilk Haze in a deep, vibrant purple.  The sweater, called Rosa, was designed by Lois Daykin, and published in Rowan 40.

Though the photo is terrible, you can see that the sweater itself is lovely.  I wore this sweater everywhere for a few years.  I love that it can be very dressy, but can also be worn with jeans.  I especially love that it is light as a feather, but surprisingly warm.

The problem with this sweater is that I knit it too big. I measured carefully and followed Rowan’s size guide exactly and knit to gauge.   I have noticed over the years that Rowan patterns run big; there is an enormous amount of positive ease built into their patterns.  And actually, when you look at the photos in their pattern books, the sweaters are always enormous on the models, so this isn’t exactly a case of false advertising.  These young, attractive Rowan models lounging around the countryside and country manor houses in sweaters three sizes too big for them always look like beautiful, tousled, artistic waifs lost in their big, snuggly sweaters.  On everyone else, they just look like sweaters that don’t fit.  I have come to the conclusion that, when knitting a Rowan pattern, you should always go down a size.  Or two.  Or three.

So my Rosa sweater, while deeply loved, was clearly too big, and once I lost a bit of weight, was way too big.  I have been thinking for some time now of knitting another one in a size 10 instead of a 14 (really, a 14; what was I thinking?)

Since knitting Rosa, I have made four other projects with Kidsilk Haze, each of which I love to bits.  First, also in 2007, I made the River Lacy Wrap, designed by Sharon Miller and published in Rowan 38.  It was my first piece of lacework.

Then I knit the absolutely fabulous Reversible Cable-Ribbed Shawl, by Lily Chin, published in Vogue Knitting Winter 1999/2000.  I think this may be my all-time favorite of all my knits, and will be the subject of a future Wearability Wednesday post.  But here is a teaser photo, so you can begin to see it’s greatness.  (Don’t you love this green?  Regular readers of this blog will know that I have a thing for green.)

I then made the Smoulder pullover for Emma, which I blogged about here.  Smoulder was designed by Kim Hargreaves and published in her collection, Whisper.   The yarn is held double in this pattern, making it  much warmer, thicker and cushier, but still light as air.  This sweater was sort of a pain to knit, because it was knit on two different sized needles, but you cannot argue with the results. It looks great.

Using the leftovers from the Smoulder sweater, I knit a cowl for my sister-in-law, Vivian, which I blogged about here.

Clearly, it is time to knit myself a pullover in Kidsilk Haze.  I have been torn for a while between knitting another Rosa, perhaps in a deep red, or finding another pattern to make with this yarn.  Recently, I came across this:

This pullover combines Kidsilk Haze with beads.  I think it is beautiful.  It is designed by Martin Story and published in Parisian Nights (by Rowan).  I am thinking maybe this is what I need for my next Kidsilk Haze fix.  I love this colour – sort of a cross between grey and taupe – but I can imagine this in a dark red, or a soft pearl grey, a rich golden yellow or  a very pale pink, or maybe in a classic black.  Kidsilk comes in so many colours.  Beads come in endless varieties; imagine the possibilities.  What do you think?

A tale of two Falkenbergs

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A year ago today, my first post on this blog went live.  So today is my first blogiversary.  Looking back over the year of posts, I found my eye drawn to a photo of me, sitting in my back garden, knitting the sleeves on a pullover I was making for my husband, Doug.  The post was whimsically called “Do you love your husband enough to knit the sleeves?”; you can find it here.  The pullover I was knitting is Brick, a design by Hanne Falkenberg.   Looking over the photos, I realized that the jacket I was wearing while sitting out in my garden knitting Hanne Falkenberg, is itself a Hanne Falkenberg design, called Decapo.  I think these photos really pick up one of the things I love about her designs – the interplay of colours, the beautiful quality of the wool, the intriguing designs.  It is a feast for the eyes.  For me, however, these two projects represent distinct stages in a knitting life.  Allow me to reminisce.

I learned to knit as a child.  Both my mother and my grandmother were knitters.  (I wrote a series of posts in which I showed some of the vintage garments my mother and grandmother knit in the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s; you can find those posts here.)  I don’t remember which of them first put the needles in my hand, but I remember knitting a cabled afghan when I was 6 or 7 years old.  It was knit in strips, each about 6 feet long, with a cable running up through a reverse stockinette background, and moss stitch edging.

I continued to knit, as well as doing embroidery, needlepoint, macrame (everyone did macrame in the 70s!), and other crafty things, but knitting did not reach out and grab me until the summer I turned 15.  I went to visit my grandmother in California that summer for a month.  At the time, she was working in a yarn shop.  She took me to work with her the first day, and I immediately picked out the yarn and a pattern to knit a sweater.  It was bright orange mohair (this was, after all, the 70s) and I knit a cowl neck sweater with 6 inches of ribbing on the waist and sleeves, and a huge ribbed cowl.  I became obsessed.  I knit all day at the shop and then went back to my grandmother’s house and knit through the night while sitting in her LazyBoy recliner, watching really awful late night television shows and eating potato chip cookies (don’t ask – we ate things like that in the 70s).

It took me three days to finish that sweater and then I started another right away.  It was in a soft rose colour and knit side to side in a jacquard pattern with dolman sleeves.  By the time I left my grandmother’s house, I had three finished sweaters in my suitcase and another on the needles.  I was really obsessed and stayed that way for years.  When I was a college student, I became quite ill at one point and spent most of seven weeks in bed.  This was before the days of internet ordering and it was not easy to obtain yarn while stuck in bed.  This is what I did for those 7 weeks:  I knit a sweater.  Then, when I was done, I frogged it (for you non-knitters, this means I ripped it all out) and re-used the yarn to knit another.  Repeat.  Repeat many times.  As you might gather, I was a process knitter at heart.  Having a finished sweater was nice but not necessary; the process of knitting soothed something in my soul.

In graduate school I always had my knitting with me.  I was at MIT, the hub of all things engineering, and knitting was seen as rather frivolous and girly.  The men I think just found it odd, and the women accused me of perpetuating female stereotypes. (Knitting was seen as an antifeminist manifesto, but that is the subject for another post.)  During my final year, I would sit at my computer for hours at a time writing my dissertation, and then, to relax, I would knit.  I ruined my hands.  Two months after I submitted the dissertation, I developed such terrible hand and wrist pain that I could not knit at all.  (I also could not cook, or type, or write, or much of anything else involving one’s hands.)  It was diagnosed as DeQuervaine’s tenosynovitis, caused by repetitive stress.

I was convinced to undergo surgery.  I have heard that this surgery is usually very successful, but in my case it was not.  I could not knit.  For the next 15 years, I could not knit more than a few rows without feeling pain.  In that 15 years, I think I knit four sweaters: a small blue cabled toddler’s pullover (which took three years – it was intended for my nephew Mitchell but ended up for my daughter Emma), the red jacket for Leah at age three, a cute pullover for Emma, and a gansey fisherman’s pullover for Doug.  That was it.  Each of them progressed painfully slowly.  If I got caught up in the knitting and tried to knit more than a few minutes, I would pay for it with a few weeks of pain.  I mourned my knitting.  Not for the things I could have knit, but because I missed the knitting itself.

For Christmas 2004 Doug bought me a Hanne Falkenberg knitting kit, for the Decapo jacket, in two shades of green and a completely gorgeous shade of rusty-orange with green tweedy undertones.  I was flabbergasted.  First, by the wonderfully thoughtful and beautiful gift, which was a complete and total surprise.  Second, by my sudden drive to knit this beautiful sweater and become a knitter again.  I was determined not to let my repetitive stress injuries take my knitting away from me.  I don’t know what it was about this particular jacket that inspired me; I think perhaps it was that Doug gave me the right knitting project at just the right time.  I also don’t remember everything that I did to get past the pain.  What I do know is that I had to change the way that I knit and analyze the knitting process.

I started doing exercises to try to strengthen my hands and wrists.  I would soak my hands in hot water before knitting and do gentle stretches.  I would stop every 20 minutes and shake out my hands, massage my fingers, and give my hands a break before starting again.  I thought a lot about the process – how I held the needles, how I moved my hands, how I placed my shoulders.  Before the injury I had been a speed queen.  I knit really fast, and I would knit for hours, literally, without a break.  Now, I found that I had to slow down; I purposely slowed down each stitch.  I think that before I had enjoyed the speed, getting into a zen state where my fingers would fly; now, I had to use the rhythm more than the speed to get to that state.

It took me 15 months to knit that Decapo jacket.  But I was once again hooked.  My whole relationship with knitting had to change.  I was never again going to be able to knit for hours a day.  My maximum, even today, is about 10 hours a week.  I try to knit an hour every weekday and two on Saturdays and Sundays.  As a result of this, I became more of a product knitter.  I began to produce finished garments again, and to resist startitis (constantly casting on new items as the allure of the new outstrips the appeal of finishing the piece in hand).  Last year I knit 11 items – a skirt, a cowl, a hat, a shawl, a dress, and six sweaters.

The Brick pullover, my second Hanne Falkenberg pattern, was knit this year at a time when I can feel that my relationship with knitting is changing again.  For a while, after Decapo, I was all about the finished product; making beautifully fitted sweaters for myself and my daughters.  But it wasn’t about pushing myself.  Now I find that I long for some challenge.  I want to tackle some new techniques, stretch my skills, become a more accomplished knitter.  I feel that I want to settle somewhere back in the middle of the spectrum between process knitter and product knitter – I want to produce beautiful finished garments, but I also want the joy that just fooling around with knitting for the sake of the process itself brings.  I find myself thinking about designing; something I haven’t done for decades.  Brick was the first sweater that I cast on since beginning this blog, and I find that the very act of blogging about knitting is changing my relationship with knitting.  It is more of an intellectual process.  I want to bring my intellect, my creativity and my skill equally to bear on the projects I make.

While thinking about this post and these two sweaters, I was fortunate enough to get Emma to take some photos of Doug and me wearing them.  These photos were taken on August 26th, which just happened to be Doug’s 60th birthday.  We took them in the beautiful garden of our friends, Mark and Teresa, in Washington state.  As always, the blog has benefited from Emma’s great way with a camera.

So, this has been the tale of two Falkenbergs.  The story of two knitted garments and how they fit into a knitting life.  And this is one of the things I like best about knitting – each item you knit holds a whole range of memories within them, a piece of your life written in wool.