Well, for some reason when I tried to load pics this morning Blogger wanted me to start a Google account. After I did, it still wouldn’t let me ‘sign in’ to google, so no pics today.
Instead, let me paint a picture with words…
First we have five skeins of yarn. They’re a dark brown, like the richest, darkest bittersweet chocolate. The yarn has all the bumpy unevenness of handspun.
That’s because it is handspun. A handspun milestone. It’s the polwarth I bought when I first took my wheel into the Handweavers and Spinners Guild. I finished spinning it up after Christmas. A whole fleece! My first fleece, spun, plied washed and ready for the next step, which I think will be weaving, but might be knitting if I can’t decide on a warp thread.
Secondly, we have a rectangle of knitted fabric. It is mostly black, but at intervals there are sections of varigated colour – mostly orange – mixed with the black.
A few days ago I wanted some small project instant gratification, so I picked up the ball of Filatura di Crosa 127 print my Secret Pal had sent me and started playing. I’d had a panta headbandy thing in mind for a while, so I cast on and started knitting. Pretty soon, however, I realised this yarn was going to make me itch. It was making my hands itch, and they’re one of the least wool-sensitive areas of my body. So I frogged and started again.
This time I decided on a dictionary cover. Plain stocking stitch allowed me to read at the same time, and maybe that’s why I didn’t realise the error I was making. When I finished I stretched the rectangle over the dictionary, tucked the ends in and sewed them in place, then examined my work.
It was crap. The knitted fabric sagged across the middle and the stocking stitch edge along the top and bottom refused to stay straight. I should have known better. It’s not like I don’t know how knitted fabric behaves. But I was in a special little world of knitterly delusion.
I haven’t frogged the rectangle, however. As an experiment I basted the ends together and the resulting tube happened to fit my head exactly. So I knit one end together into a four-pointed top. It makes a delightfully goofy hat. Not one I’d wear, however, so I’ve put it aside where I can look at and consider whether or not to sew it up like this properly and give it away, or frog and just knit it into the hat it obviously wants to be.