We have clearly changed seasons. Today, the hills and valleys are just touched with colour, and there is a bit of cool in the air.
Over the last few months, I finished up projects which were already on my needles when I came down with Covid: Myrtle, Flores, and the beautiful Gresham Wrap (not yet blocked). But I have had trouble casting on new things. Mostly because, with my brain fog in full blast, knitting patterns looked like gobbledygook. But now, I am getting better, and it is Fall. Casting on a new project is obligatory.
I decided on Hirne, a lovely cardigan by Kate Davies:
I bought the kit some time ago. It fulfills the “it’s fall, knit something cosy” criterion, while at the same time starting out with lots of soothing stockinette. I still struggled a bit with deciding which size to cast on, compounded by being slightly off gauge, but I only ripped out the ribbing once, so I’ll take that as a win.
Almost immediately after I cast on, Kate released two new gorgeous patterns, both knitted in this exact yarn: Serkinet and Smookie (you can see them both on this page from Kate’s site). I thought for a moment about switching and using the yarn to knit one of these instead, but I realized that my brain just isn’t up to it yet.
Today was a fantastic fall day and Doug, Leah and I went for a walk. (Emma is now back in Canada. Boo Hoo!) I managed to do better and not need my inhaler at all. The views in every direction were gorgeous.
Doug took the below photo of my Bored sweater (blogged here):
All of the other scenic photos in this post were taken by Leah. Thanks, Leah!
Have a good weekend, everyone!
Note: If you are in the Southern Hemisphere, Spring is also a lovely time to cast on something new. Just saying.
In what is by now a standard manner, I have finished a summer knit just in time for the fall.
This started out as a Flores Tee, using the pattern by eri shimuzu, but I made a lot of modifications, and in the end, didn’t bother to consult the pattern past the first few inches. So, I think we could say that I used the pattern as a general recipe and then went off-piste. So, it is a “not quite Flores”.
I fell in love with this design when I saw a project for it on Ravelry (this one), that I loved with the power of many suns. On the same day, I received an email from The Uncommon Thread advertising the same yarn that was used in the project, and I considered that was destiny knocking. I pre-ordered it lickety-split.
The yarn is called Linum, and is a scrumptious blend of 50% Alpaca, 25% silk, and 25% linen. It is truly divine. Doug wants me to knit him a tee in this yarn. It has the best hand, and is wonderfully soft, and gossamer light, and has a beautiful sheen.
As soon as I started to knit, I realised that part of the reason I loved the project was the yarn, but the other part was the fantastic, oversized, fit and modern shape. At which point reality hit me: these lovely, drapey, shapes look beautiful and edgy because they are modeled on slim, lithe bodies who can carry off a garment with 15-20″ of ease, BUT I haven’t been that person for 30 years. So, right away, my project became a standard fit tee shirt and not an architectural piece of garment theatre. Which isn’t to say that it is not a really good tee shirt, which fits well, has beautiful drape and sheen, and is in a glorious colour that truly pops. It is just not the idea which catapulted the purchase in the first place.
The first modification was to knit it with significantly less ease; in fact, I think the finished project has about 2 inches of negative ease. The rib stitch is very stretchy and thus can easily be done with some negative ease without feeling clingy. I also got rid of the twisted stitch in the ribbing. In my experience, twisted rib always ends up torqued, especially in linen. This means that instead of the ribs being lined up straight, they lean significantly to the side. I don’t know if this is a general thing, or if it is just related to my style of knitting, but almost every time I have knitted a twisted rib, I end up pulling it out and re-knitting a normal rib.
I also got rid of the eyelets on the bottom hem and sleeves, and shortened the bottom ribbing. The body of the sweater is knit in a broken 3X1 rib (knit on the odd rows, ribbed on the even rows). At the sleeve and hem edges, instead of switching to a 1×1 ribbing, I continued with a 3×1 ribbing, but now ribbed on every row (and with a size smaller needle). This means that the ribbing on the body sort of melts into the ribbing on the edges, and it gives what I think is a very clean line. The change in ribbing is only actually visible on the reverse side.
This brings me to one of the excellent design features of the original pattern, which is that the garment is reversible, with the reverse side having a more obvious rib, compared to the understated rib of the front side. Many people state that they prefer the reverse side and tend to wear it that way. You only need to be careful with picking up stitches and weaving in ends, and then you can choose to wear it either way. Below I am wearing it with the reverse side out.
I finished this about 3 weeks ago, and have been wearing it very frequently since. The colour bled a lot on washing, so beware if using it for multi-coloured projects (in which case, I would rinse the yarn thoroughly before using). I am a bit worried about how it will hold up, as the yarn is incredibly light and it feels as if it could be one of those projects that ends up getting stretched out of shape. The yarn doesn’t have a lot of memory, as a good wool would. If I were to knit with this again, I might be tempted to go down a needle size and knit at a tighter gauge, just to give it a bit more structure, or to knit in pieces and seam it, as that always lends a bit more structure. It is an absolutely glorious yarn, however, and I will definitely use it again. (Doug, maybe there is a knitted tee in your future.)
Doug and I spent an afternoon trying to photograph this shortly after I finished blocking it. He took the photo of me on the country road, but the rest of them were truly awful! One of the ongoing problems that Doug has had post-Covid has to do with his eyes, and it turns out that he couldn’t see well enough that day to take a photo. We laughed so hard when we saw the photos, and I realised how much this blog relies on Doug’s ability to take a nice photo (and his endless willingness to take them). Hopefully, the vision problem will get sorted. (Before you ask, we have been to see many different medical specialists and the problem seems to be neurological rather than opthamological; covid is nasty stuff).
This week both Doug and I have had birthdays. (Doug had a “big” birthday, one of those that end with a zero). For our birthday present, the girls came home to visit! In addition to all of the obvious reasons this is great, it also means I was able to co-opt Emma into taking blog photos.
If you have experienced the “post-Covid fatigue and brain fog” thing, then you might relate to this story. It has been a while now since Covid struck, and I am still having troubles with energy levels, motivation, and, yes, brain power. I decided that I needed to knit something small and easy, something that doesn’t require much thought. (The fact that we have had a heat wave here might have also contributed to the wish to cast on a small project, instead of finishing off a big shawl.)
I cast on a hat. Isn’t it pretty? Even Buddha approves.
The pattern is Field of Wildflowers by Joji Locatelli, and I am using Fyberspates Vivacious DK in Blueberry Imps.
Since I am substituting DK for Worsted, I cast on in a Large, in order to end up with a Medium. The pattern calls for either 6 or 7 pattern repeats before starting the crown decreases. I was pretty sure that my row gauge indicated that I should knit the smaller number of pattern repeats, and also the hat looked really long to me. However, I kept recalling that the last hat which I knitted (the Puf Hat) also felt really long, and it in fact is really just a tad too short:
Ever since I finished it, I have been intending to rip out the crown and re-knit it an inch longer. So, keeping in mind that my new Wildflower Hat should be as least as long as the Puf hat, if not longer, I knitted 7 pattern repeats before starting the crown. Look how pretty it is:
Look at it next to the Puf Hat. See how they are the same length?
Now, think back to the Covid brain fog. Why did I start this post by mentioning that? Because….duh!… the Puf Hat has a folded up brim! When the brim is folded, this is what they look like:
I dare you not to laugh! Still don’t believe me? Below is a photo of these two hats with my fantastic Raven Hat (which I blogged about here). Can you sense the Goldilocks theme? (Puf hat is too small, and Wildflower hat is too big, but Raven hat is just right!)
Ha ha! Clearly, I need more recovery time. I shouldn’t be doing anything which involves using my brain. (In all fairness, I must point out that this problem is highly reminiscent of one I had in 2016 and blogged about in the aptly titled, and I think very funny post, teeny tiny hat. I did not have Covid to blame then!)
With hopes that your Goldilocks moment is confined to porridge and not your knitting!
I am so happy to be able to show you photos of my completed Myrtle tank:
We are in the midst of a drought and a heat wave here, so we’ve struggled to find a bit of cool to take these photos. Notice how the cool greys of the stones above bring out the cooler tones, and the green background below brings out the warmer tones.
Myrtle is a great design by Kate Davies. Her pattern calls for mohair yarn and long sleeves and looks deliciously cozy and stylish for a walk in the crisp air, see below photo. I have wanted to make one since the pattern first came out, in her book, The West Highland Way, in 2017. (This is the second project I’ve knitted from this book: the first is my Highland Rogue Cowl, which I blogged about here.)
I took a detour from the Highland Way and made my Myrtle as a summer-y tank top. I think it really works!
The colours are not in my normal palette. In fact, this yarn was originally purchased as a kit to make a shawl, and one day I suddenly had the inspiration to use the yarn to knit a summer-y version of Myrtle (you can read about it in this earlier post). Here is the yarn:
The unintended result was that the process became a bit of a puzzle with some yarn chicken thrown in: the shawl kit contained two full skeins and three partial skeins and I had to make decisions in order to get the look I wanted while being limited by the amounts.
I ran out of the darker green first (you can see that there are five repeats of each of the other colours, but only four of the dark green). The colour that I liked the least at the beginning, the lighter green, ended up surprising me: in fact I chose to make the arm and neck ribbing from this shade instead of the white as I originally planned. I quite like it.
I choose to knit two rows of rib with the white before switching colours in the arm and neck rib, in order to imitate the two rows of white stockinette between each lace panel in the pattern. It makes a very neat touch.
This project has been a long time coming. I started this last summer, and at the time I was planning on making a tee. I finished the front and back, but was running out of both the dark green and the dark rose shades, and was struggling with matching up the concept in my head with the yarn at hand. I put it aside while I tried to talk myself into short sleeves using only the three lighter shades, or some subset thereof.
It then got usurped completely when I decided to take on a big project for my daughter Emma, which had to be finished for Christmas. I finally decided to skip the short sleeves and turn it into a tank, and picked it back up again. When I had only about 5-6 hours of work left to complete it, I got Covid. It has taken me over 8 weeks to put in the few hours to complete it and to find the energy to photograph it. (I have been tempted to wait another few months to take photos, since not only have I been sick for 8 weeks, but I look like I’ve been sick for 8 weeks. Doug says you won’t care.)
I really enjoyed every aspect of knitting this. I especially liked the surprise involved in taking one of Kate’s beautiful patterns and changing it up, and having it turn out even better in real life than it did in my head. This is the second time in two years I have done this with one of Kate’s pattern: the first was the Ursula waistcoat I knitted for Doug last year.
It’s lovely, isn’t it? I like the fact that I can dress it up or down, wear it with jeans or under a jacket. And I am pleased to go outside of my colour comfort zone.
I’m happy to be slowly recovering and picking up my knitting again. Take care, everyone!
I’ve been writing this blog for over 10 years. This is my 588th post. So it is fair to say, that I feel comfortable here. I know my voice, I know how it feels to be in the flow, and I know when my voice feels authentic.
Since I tested positive for Covid almost 7 weeks ago I have really struggled to engage in any way with the blog, and at a more fundamental level with my knitting, or with anything else for that matter. In the beginning, in the acute phase, I literally had no energy, and also no breath, to do anything. No knitting, no reading, no writing. I suffered from brain fog and fatigue, and a vicious cough.
I was very nearly finished with a great knitting project just as I got sick. It needed only about 5-6 hours of work, adding a small amount of ribbing to armholes and neck, and weaving in ends. I think I expected that I would recuperate, and then pick up the knitting and blogging again without issue. What I have found is that there are many ingredients to this blogging experience, and I am recovering at different rates for each of these.
It started with my being able to knit. Not for long, as exhaustion really rode me hard, but after a month of no activity, I could pick up the needles and do some knitting. However, I couldn’t manage anything that involved thinking. A few days ago, I tried to pick up some stitches under the arm on another project – 12 stitches – and knit them in pattern. The pattern was K2P1 – not rocket science. I spent an hour trying to do it, and finally gave up. I could knit, but I couldn’t concentrate on a knitting task. So, the fingers worked, but the brain fog got in the way.
I finished the Myrtle tank 2 weeks ago, and it is beautiful. I want to share it with you. I want to blog about it. Every day I thought “Today I will brush my hair, and put on the tank, and model it, while Doug takes some photos.” And every day, I just couldn’t do it. I never noticed how much effort that part of the process took. Today, we finally took some photos. They are not the best photos given that I still look sick and pasty, but the knitting looks good.
So: sweater finished: check! Photos taken: check! And I can’t write the bloody post. I tried three times today to work on the post, and no matter what I write, it doesn’t sound like me. It feels fake. It feels like someone else is writing it. I want my voice back! (Funnily enough, writing this doesn’t seem too bad, so maybe that means that my whiny voice is back, while the rest of me is lost in translation.)
In the first week with Covid, Doug and I both lost our sense of taste and smell and it still hasn’t returned. Everything feels flat when you can’t taste. That’s sort of the way my writing feels: flat. It’s missing the sweet and sour, the spicy and umami, the bit that gives it character. Has anyone else experienced this? I expected the fatigue, the brain fog, the effort, the lack of mojo, but not the loss of authentic voice.
Please bear with me. I’ve got some good knitting to show you, once I get all the ingredients back.
Do you remember when the sleeve was the most boring part of your sweater? When you would get stuck on “sleeve island”? When you reached the point where all that’s left is the sleeves, and you realised that you absolutely must cast on something new right away? When how long someone’s arms were was a good indicator of whether or not they would be on your sweater knitting gift list? (I once even wrote a post entitled “Do you love your husband enough to knit the sleeves?” It was a rather silly post, but still wins a prize for title and sentiment.)
Well, I don’t know if you have noticed, but today it seems it is all about the sleeve. I see more and more patterns where the sleeve is a definite focal point. Here are a few recent ones that I like:
Are you planning a new project with fantastic scene-stealing sleeves? If so, let us know.
(Health update: Both Doug and I are recovering, but much more slowly than anticipated. I have finished a project – my Myrtle tank – but don’t yet have the energy to photograph it and write it up. Hopefully, I can show it to you soon, because it is really cute.)
In today’s FT Magazine, there is an interesting article by Rosa Lyster, called The Tyranny of having a hobby. It is a rather tongue-in-cheek observation about how hobbies have been re-framed during the pandemic to become a vital and serious form of self-care, rather than simply being fun. I enjoyed the article, which had some keen observations, but was particularly struck by the below characterization of a hobby:
“Even taking these difficulties into account, however, it seems obvious that birdwatching, knitting and playing bridge are classic adult hobbies, the kinds of activities you would adopt if you were an alien trying to pass as a believable human being. They are absorbing, enjoyable, nonremunerative, can be mastered but are resistant to professionalisation, involve practice and reward diligence, and they grant immediate passage into a world full of others with the same interests, knitting woolly octopuses for premature babies and making unforgiving observations about the wrong way to play bridge.”
The tyranny of having a hobby, by Rosa Lyster, FT Magazine, 09 June, 2022
As I was pondering this (and thinking that knitting octopuses for preemies is a bit of a narrow take on the knitting community), Doug was busy aiming the remote at the TV. This is the height of activity for us in our covid-induced brain fogginess. He landed on an episode of Midsomer Murders. “Quick,” he said, “which episode is this?” It took me 30 seconds to announce “It’s the one where they kill off the orchid collectors!” (Given that the scene was one in which there were literally orchids everywhere, this 30 seconds is not a sign of my clever observation skills, but rather indicative of brain fog.)
If you don’t know Midsomer Murders, it is a series of rather tongue-in-cheek murder mysteries taking place in the mythical, pastoral town of Causton and its environs, and all shot within a short radius of our home. It has been filming for over 20 years, and for us, there is a cool game of spot-the-location which we play in the background, as we try to identify every building, turn of the Thames, and village green being used as a location shot. It is also the case that in every episode as least three people meet a grisly comical (or comically grisly?) death, which usually revolves around their having made the poor decision to join a club. Orchid collectors? Dead. Amateur astronomers? Dead. Bee-keepers, comic book fans, bell-ringers? Dead, dead, dead.
And suddenly, it occurred to me: no knitting club. All of these years of hobbyists meeting their premature end in ever creative fashion, and no knitting club. Perhaps, I thought, this is the true definition of a hobby. Not that an alien would adopt it in order to blend in, but that by taking it up you would meet an untimely death in Midsomer. If that is so, I am pleased to declare that knitting is not a hobby. Which means, of course, that it must be a spot of self-care.
Let me start by offering a heartfelt thank you to all of you who left messages for me here and on Ravelry. Your best wishes were very much appreciated, and gave us some cheer. As Emma reported previously, Doug and I have both been struck down by Covid, and it was nasty. My word for everyone: be cautious.
I have read comments from knitters about how having Covid gave them lots of opportunity to sit and knit. That has not been my experience. We were both quite sick and have had some unsettling and scary consequences brought on by the infection. We have been at the hospital three times in the last two weeks, had paramedics in the house multiple times, and had two late-night ambulance rides. Doug has had multiple brain scans, and managed to scare me to death at least once.
We have also been overwhelmed with the kindness of neighbours, friends, and colleagues, who have kept in touch, checked up on us, and done shopping and pharmacy runs. We have also been very well supported by the NHS in every way, and have had the best experiences and interactions with everyone – doctors, nurses, paramedics, technicians, porters, receptionists; all of these overworked people have been professional and kind and reassuring.
We are not through this yet. The virus is cycling and neither of us has very much energy. We still have significant brain fog. We are very sad about losing our sense of taste/smell. I am still coughing and Doug has debilitating headaches. Doug has some extra complications we are trying to sort out. For almost three weeks I was unable to knit, and really struggled to read, or watch TV, or do much of anything. In the past few days, I have begun to pick up my knitting and have been watching Wimbledon, so definitely things are picking up. I managed to put in the ribbing on my Myrtle, so it is all done except for weaving in lots and lots of ends:
I don’t have the brain space for weaving in ends at the moment, but hopefully within a week or two, I will have a little more energy. I hope to bring you finished shots of this beautiful project soon. Thanks again!
Hi folks, Emma here! Mom has asked me to write everyone a quick message to assure you that she has not forgotten about the blog, and to reassure you that she will be back to all things knitting soon.
We have had an eventful week at chez Knitigating Circumstances, culminating in an ambulance ride and a very long night at the hospital. Both Doug and Kelly are currently down with covid, and myself and Leah are recovering from acute anxiety relating to trying to decide if we need to fly home. I am happy to report though that all is well – covid aside – Leah and I are still in Canada, and Doug and Kelly are in bed. Luckily (?) I had covid back in February so we were pretty prepared for how the disease works and the timelines to expect, but it has still been pretty miserable for them. Brain fog has also meant that Kelly doesn’t trust herself to knit! So she is feeling a little extra miserable. I don’t have much to add, but I will keep everyone updated if Mom is still out for the next week.
In the meantime, Kelly will still be reading comments, and well wishes are always appreciated! Thank you everyone for your understanding. Over and out!