Two Sweaters
Crispy, unblocked wool
Snowdrops
Weaving in ends
Fog eaten river, fog eaten sky
A new configuration of lake bricks
Neon darn
Tulips
By late winter I am always desperately sick of my sweaters and itching to start a new one. I often finish my deep winter knits too late to wear until Fall but this year I hustled and cast off a sweater that can be in heavy rotation until June. The sweater is marled and warm with rolled cuffs and hems. Its design was a response to overwhelm: stockinet in the round. Stitches flew off the needles while my brain only occasionally popped in to take stock. After I finished knitting that one another, totally moth-eaten, wool pullover landed in my hot little hands. I mended it with unprecedented quickness in neon yellow, turning it into a field of fireflies. The mothy sweater is big and warm- it fits me like my Opa’s sweaters fit him, long in the arm and falling in a cozy curve under my belly. The other is cropped and heavy, sexy in the way that knitters believe woolens can be. Two new sweaters to see me through these remaining weeks of damp cold, what luxury.
It has felt good to spend time mending moth holes and churning leftover balls of yarn into something usable. Amid such staggering global acts of disregard for life each small act of reverence for living feels like a prayer. I hope to someday live in a world where care and kindness are the norm. I believe we have to provide them with opportunities to deepen, to seep into every crack before they become foundational enough to build on. It’s that belief that guides my days, humming along as steady as my needles. I am fortunate, too, to know how small I am. How tiny my actions are and how their power lies in accumulation. It’s knitting that taught me the power of a thousand tiny acts. It takes endless tiny motions and dedicated minutes to make a sweater. Easy to forget when it comes off the needles so perfectly whole, so I remind myself with each new start.
Sweater Specs:
Harrisville Shetland left over from this sweater, held double with random skeins of the same weight. I cast on at the neck with my heart after knitting a tiny, uninformative swatch and I put in the raglans where I felt they might need to be and I guessed the yoke length and you know what? It fits great. The rolled hems are knit 2 needle sizes down and I increased (or decreased) every 3rd stitch when I switched needles. There’s some shaping in the arms and a little at the back and waist, otherwise it’s just stockinet city with not a single purl in sight. To get the most out of the yarn I knit the body first, then split each of the remaining yarns into two balls by weight. The arm stripes didn’t quite line up, but they balanced out. I used up all but about 16 grams of the yarn I had for it, an additional boon for these frugal times.
Links
A reminder to make things that are beautiful and full of information. ESPECIALLY NOW. From Toronto Ink Company’s recent newsletter.
This podcast about the Metropolitan Community Church of San Francisco during the height of the AIDS epidemic has been a good companion to me these past few weeks. Community and faith in action, again, especially now.
With love from the kitchen stool,
Grace
"Amid such staggering global acts of disregard for life each small act of reverence for living feels like a prayer." Love you.
Yes to neon darns. I've got a wee skein of orange yarn that's been mending all the things here.n