Indigo
I really have been knitting, in between tossing spam and catalogs and setting up my marvelous new office computer (thanks, College of Arts!):
Because I couldn't work the sleeves while on vacation (could have bought yet another pair of size 1 double points; didn't want to), I worked the border instead -- the stitches have been picked up for one of the sleeves now.
I hate picking up stitches for sleeves and necklines and what not more than anything else. All the knitters have a piece of the work they hate -- that's mine. Many of us hate the finishing, but I actually enjoy that -- but then, I was once a seamstress.
The borders to this cardigan are enjoyable for me, since they involve some seamstressing/tailoring techniques. Here's a close-up of the inside border, with the steek sewn down, and the hem turned up and sewn down. Keep in mind that it's not blocked yet -- and indeed, I will probably go beyond blocking and actually press, maybe even clap, the border. Only the border.
Clapping is a technique used to flatten the edges of a wool garment; this is the first sweater I've worked upon which I'm thinking about using the technique. I'd press the edge of the sweater with a steam iron (using, of course, a press cloth in between the iron and the sweater), and then slam some flat object on top of the whole thing -- for years I've been using a dreadful volume of awful Shakespeare criticism -- and then hold it down for a bit.
It's counter to all knitting wisdom, isn't it? But though my work on the border turning is neat, and I've reduced as much bulk as possible, the corners need help for a good finish. We're so careful of our knit fabric -- but that's all it is. It's fabric. I don't need the borders to stretch -- indeed, I'd rather they held their shape. So it won't hurt to give them a permanent fix.
Now, if I totally mess the whole thing up. I'll come online and 'fess up. Watch this space for further updates.
Amber, by the way, having finished her summer purse knit out of garbage bags, has been planting flax. I gather she means to achieve linen next year or so. She's been growing indigo, too, which causes great envy at our house -- Sam, South Carolinian that he is, thinks that growing indigo would be a very good idea. The only thing that keeps the indigo-dyeing project at bay around here is the absence (thank God) of abundant horse urine.
What Amber plans to use to facilitate the indigo-dyeing process I do not know. I won't be surprised, however, to discover that indigo-dyeing has moved on since the Colonial period, at which time the horse urine was a BIG part of the enterprise.
We're looking forward to finding out, cause all our information about indigo-dyeing comes from Charles Town Landing, where we go every year, in the sweltering heat of August, to look at the indigo fields, watch the foxes being fed lunch, clamber on what the child believes to be a pirate ship, and try to squelch Mama from pointing out all the inaccuracies in the historical reconstructions.
Really. You can't take me anywhere.
Because I couldn't work the sleeves while on vacation (could have bought yet another pair of size 1 double points; didn't want to), I worked the border instead -- the stitches have been picked up for one of the sleeves now.
I hate picking up stitches for sleeves and necklines and what not more than anything else. All the knitters have a piece of the work they hate -- that's mine. Many of us hate the finishing, but I actually enjoy that -- but then, I was once a seamstress.
The borders to this cardigan are enjoyable for me, since they involve some seamstressing/tailoring techniques. Here's a close-up of the inside border, with the steek sewn down, and the hem turned up and sewn down. Keep in mind that it's not blocked yet -- and indeed, I will probably go beyond blocking and actually press, maybe even clap, the border. Only the border.
Clapping is a technique used to flatten the edges of a wool garment; this is the first sweater I've worked upon which I'm thinking about using the technique. I'd press the edge of the sweater with a steam iron (using, of course, a press cloth in between the iron and the sweater), and then slam some flat object on top of the whole thing -- for years I've been using a dreadful volume of awful Shakespeare criticism -- and then hold it down for a bit.
It's counter to all knitting wisdom, isn't it? But though my work on the border turning is neat, and I've reduced as much bulk as possible, the corners need help for a good finish. We're so careful of our knit fabric -- but that's all it is. It's fabric. I don't need the borders to stretch -- indeed, I'd rather they held their shape. So it won't hurt to give them a permanent fix.
Now, if I totally mess the whole thing up. I'll come online and 'fess up. Watch this space for further updates.
Amber, by the way, having finished her summer purse knit out of garbage bags, has been planting flax. I gather she means to achieve linen next year or so. She's been growing indigo, too, which causes great envy at our house -- Sam, South Carolinian that he is, thinks that growing indigo would be a very good idea. The only thing that keeps the indigo-dyeing project at bay around here is the absence (thank God) of abundant horse urine.
What Amber plans to use to facilitate the indigo-dyeing process I do not know. I won't be surprised, however, to discover that indigo-dyeing has moved on since the Colonial period, at which time the horse urine was a BIG part of the enterprise.
We're looking forward to finding out, cause all our information about indigo-dyeing comes from Charles Town Landing, where we go every year, in the sweltering heat of August, to look at the indigo fields, watch the foxes being fed lunch, clamber on what the child believes to be a pirate ship, and try to squelch Mama from pointing out all the inaccuracies in the historical reconstructions.
Really. You can't take me anywhere.
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