Hatch Day

Common Welsh Green Socks
Stitch Pattern: Marnie Maclean's Wyvern Sock, with modifications
Needle: 2.75mm Aero metal circular
Method: Toe-up, Magic Loop
Yarn: Sweet Georgia's merino handpaint, colourway "Dragon"
Yarn Source & Cost: Pick Up Sticks, $22
Cast On: March 13, 2007
Bound Off: April 8, 2007
Modifications/Notes:
As discussed, the yarn is very soft. Because of this softness, I think durability will be an issue. Also, due to the loose spin, a lot of felting happened while short-rowing the heel.

As to the pattern, I was disappointed that, though it comes in several sizes, the central "scale" pattern remains constant in size. So, because I knit the largest size, I had to find something interesting to do with the extra ten or so stitches, to avoid the appearance of a narrow strip of pattern right down the centre of my foot. Also, the pattern as given does not have the scale design on the back of the leg - instead, the back stitches are in ribbing, as are the sole stitches. I didn't care too much for this, so I changed the sole to stockinette, added twisted 1x1 rib on the sides of the ankle, and continued the scale stitch pattern to the back of the calf.

One good thing about this pattern is that, being a basic double-increase/double-decrease, it was easy to memorize and quick to knit. Each sock only took me a couple of days to actually knit, though there was some time off in between socks so, altogether, the pair took me three weeks.

Short-row heels seem to be too loose for me, so once I got the heel knit and started in the round again, I did a couple of decreases at the centre back of the heel to nip it in a little bit. This worked well, but I think next time I will reduce it even further, to make a tighter ankle. With an hour or so of wear, they are starting to feel a little slippery in the heel. (This is in part because I short-rowed the heel about 4 rows too far - you can see, in the above picture, that the right heel is slightly square and pointy. That will go away with a bit of wear, though.)

I wanted to have some sort of flow when transitioning from the inc./dec. pattern to the ribbing at the top of the leg, so I did some fiddling around with the 1X1 twisted rib and ended up with a cuff that's slightly reminiscent of Pomatomus. I like this part of the sock, though no one else might notice it (you can see it a little bit in the above picture).

I'm not 100% happy with how these socks turned out. I think if I were to make dragonish socks again, I would look a bit harder for a more effective scaly chart, or invent one myself. Also, I'm not sure how I like that twisted rib panels on the sides. Not worth fixing though, for house socks.

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Before I leave you, here is our Easter Tree. It was nice to do but I must say the weather could have been more cooperative. It started to rain as we were hanging the eggs on Sunday morning, and it poured all day and all night. By Monday morning it was a woebegone sight, chilly wet eggs dripping pastel shades of rainwater onto the sodden grass. I must say it wasn't the triumphant-return-of-life celebration I was hoping for. We'll try it again next year though - the children had a lot of fun with it.

Eggy Woolly Flow'ry Clappy

24 eggs, their contents removed by me, by dint of blowing through pinholes

plus

a miasmic haze of dye and vinegar

equals

the biggest headache of my life. But look:

pretties! In the end there were 22 eggs, since two broke during the blowing process. Utterly disgusting. Also I had the unnerving experience of being watched intently through the window the entire time by a robin whose beady eye did not waver. I felt shamed, jaded - like an abortionist at playgroup.

It wasn't me, Cock Robin. Don't judge me. Those poultry farm chickens are sellout whores anyway. Should they really be given the chance to reproduce?

Tomorrow we decorate, and Sunday morning they will be hung in the apple tree outside, the tips of whose branches are swollen with the promise of buds. How deliciously pagan of us.

_________________

Spring continues despite inclement weather and, with every moment of sunshine, visible progress is made by nature

and by (wo)man.



Speaking of verdancy, let me show you a problem I'm having with my Common Welsh Green socks. I am working short-row heels on this pair, and I'm using a new-to-me yarn: Sweet Georgia's handpainted merino. Now, I am a huge fan of Felicia from way back - I've been lurking on her blog for ages, and always wanted to get some of her sock yarn but never managed it - just not fast enough on those days when she updated her shop. Luckily for me, Pick Up Sticks started stocking her yarns and I snapped some up. To be exact, I snapped up three pairs' worth. Now, I am turning the heel on my first pair of Sweet Georgia socks, and here is what the final wraps look like, as I come around to the last few rows of heel:

That fuzzy mass you see at the right side of the needle there? That mass is actually 5 separate stitches, all fused together just from the friction of my hand as I knit the centre heel stitches. By the time I had zigged and zagged across the heel for a total of 40 rows or so, those stitches were so felted that the plies couldn't be seen at all. They were so tight on the needle that in the end I had to switch to a smaller needle to knit them. I figure I am going to get 2, maybe 3 wears out of these socks, unless I refrain completely from standing or walking while I have them on. Then I should be okay until the nap of the couch wears a hole into them.

The problem is the softness of the yarn (and the loose spin). Over the year or so that I've been knitting socks, I have realized something. You can have "soft merino", or you can have "durable". I love wool socks, I love fancy hand-dyes and soft tootsies, but I just can't deal with disposable knitting. I have two pairs of socks in my darning basket: my Koigu Elfine socks, and my Fleece Artist Lacy Scallops socks. The Elfine socks have an enormous hole that appeared out of nowhere on their 8th or so wear (no shoes, of course, and with the heightened consciousness that comes from knowing you have thousands of careful stitches and hours of painstaking work on your clumsy callused feet), and the Lacy Scallops socks are waiting patiently for their THIRD darning.


The lesson? That $22-per-skein, hand-dyed, hand-spun, 100% merino wool would be perfect for wristwarmers (no fingers, naturally, due to high traffic and the inevitable holes), for hats (unless you have dreadlocks, because then you risk hat-hair fusion [which - it occurs to me - if you have dreadlocks, is probably fine with you]) and of course for fair-isle anything, which sort of lends itself to felt-prone yarn anyway, and carries the bonus of a double-layer for hole-prevention.

Despite my discouragement, and the certainty of darning to come, I am forcing myself to finish these socks so that I can cast on for Clapotis. Lizbon suggested it for use with my divine Hollyhock Malabrigo (pictured below), and I do believe she's on to something... The quicker I get these socks finished, the quicker we can see if she's as right as I think she is.

Edit: Sweet fancy Moses, could I use more punctuation?

Ask, and it Shall be Given You

In order to reinforce your commenting behaviour, I think it's time to give some answers.


The Decision on the Rheingold Wrap



Ames, to answer your question: I decided on the Rheingold Wrap, longer but no narrower. If I am going to go to all the trouble and expense of ordering an authentic Starmore kit, I'll cough up for a few extra skeins, hopefully enough to knit another 10 inches or so. After all, when you're spending $250 you may as well spend $300 and make sure you'll be happy with the finished product.


The Grapes (and Pears, and Melon, and Pineapple) of Wrath

In answer to Lizbon's "how do you get such pretty fruit in midwinter" question: there is a wonderful grocery store on Vancouver Island, which goes out of its way to excel in the produce department...and in meat, and dairy, and pretty well everything worth excellence. They have done more for organic farming in BC than any other organization, I'd wager.


The Story of the Common Welsh Green Socks


Sue, the Common Welsh Green socks are an invention of mine, not a specific pattern. The idea was inspired by a series of sock yarn skeins for sale on etsy and named after the dragon species listed in the Harry Potter books (most memorably in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament ["Goblet of Fire"], where each of the four champions has to steal an egg from a dragon). Each skein was beautifully dyed with evocative colours, and named (left to right) "Swedish Short Snout", "Welsh Green", "Hungarian Horntail" and "Chinese Fireball".*
Knowing there were two major HP events this year, I immediately wanted to knit some dragonish socks with that yarn, and started cruising for a pattern. I found Marnie Maclean's "Wyvern Socks" by chance while surfing some blogs, and the chart had an ideal "scale" look. Unfortunately, I hadn't bought the dragon-dyed yarn when I saw it (lesson learned) and now it was sold out. So, I spent another few months waiting for the perfect semi-solid dragon-coloured sock yarn. I was hoping for something in a silvery-blue, to make the "Swedish Shortsnout" socks, but couldn't find it. Sweet Georgia's chartreuse "Dragon" colourway, when I found it, was exactly right for a Welsh Green...and aptly named.


Questions No One Asked (or, My First Meme)
I hate memes.
But I love memes.


I have never published one.
But I have written several.


After wrestling with my principles, I have at last decided to give in to the craze, a bit. I am going to include a tiny note at the end of any given post, when I have something interesting, or funny, or freaky, to share.


1. When I was 12, we were coming home from our grandmother's house one rainy night. As we drove down a (deserted) rural road, we passed through an isolated pool of light cast by a streetlight at a lonely intersection. I got a prickly feeling and looked back immediately, to see a woman standing in the middle of the light, a split second after our car had driven through it. She was dressed in a grey skirt and jacket, with blonde hair, standing absolutely still. I kept watching her until we were out of sight, and she never moved. I knew, and know to this day, that she was a ghost. Believe it, or not.


2. I hate the very thought of people touching any fruit that I might later eat. When restaurants put that wedge of orange on your breakfast plate, beside your toast and eggs? The very thought of eating that makes my skin crawl. Someone in the kitchen has obviously touched the cut edge of that orange. It's a nauseating combination of hand-warmth and bruising.

I, and only I, know exactly how to prepare fruit for myself. Icy hands (run them under the water first, right), a very sharp knife (bruising = sick-making) and minimal contact. Also no wood or plastic cutting boards. (Possible taste-contamination resulting in faint traces of onion, garlic, or, God forbid, meat.) You may think I am too fussy, but here is my breakfast: a fruit salad made by me, with absolutely no crushed edges, warm bits, or flavour cross-contamination. And see how pretty:
Pineapple, pear, mango, apple, watermelon, honeydew, starfruit, orange, banana. Nary a bruise in sight.

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Postscript: I can't figure out the hard returns on this stupid new Blogger. The composition window shows regular single-space returns, but once published the spaces between paragraphs take on a random hugeness, or tininess. So it's a crapshoot whether the spaces in this post will be Lilliputian, Brobdingnagian, or a titillating combination of both.

* Picture dredged off the vastness of the web.

Speaking of Dishpan Hands...

As you can see if you just look above, or at www.bletheringplace.blogspot.com, Harry Potter is fast approaching. This year, with the release of both the Order of the Phoenix movie and the Deathly Hallows book, is a huge year for HP geeks such as myself.

Obviously, some Hogwarts knitting is in order.

There is a good amount of knitting in the Harry Potter series, and the film releases of each title give us a nice visual element that the books lack. There are good resources online for Harry Potter knitting, most notably Alison's pattern for the Weasley Sweater. In April, Alison's book Charmed Knits will be released, comprised entirely of designs inspired by the Harry Potter books and movies.

I know I want a Weasley, and the release of Deathly Hallows would be a great deadline for it. However, I don't have suitable stash yarn, so would need to actually purchase some new stuff. I am a bit out of practice buying yarn, and, strangely enough, feel a bit nervous about it. Weird, huh? I'm sure I'll get over it.

In the meantime, I got cracking on my Common Welsh Green socks.



I've been planning them for some time, and when I saw Sweet Georgia's colourway "Dragon" at Pick-up Sticks back in November, I knew it would be perfect. I am using Marnie Maclean's Wyvern sock pattern, with modifications. Should be nice and scaly when finished.

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And look what arrived in the mail the other day!!



I was reading Sue's entry about the only good way to eat a Tim Tam, and commented that I needed to have one of those delicious-looking biscuits before I die. (Not an imminently-expected event, by the way, just a list I've been keeping for years. "Things I Must Do Before I Die".) In the spirit of international (magical) cooperation and blogger generosity, Sue fired off a box of Tim Tams, with a couple of other little treats, all the way from Australia. What a woman! What a biscuit! The Tim Tams are everything she promised they would be - divine, chocolatey, wafery goodness. I'm already trying to figure out how I can order these on an ongoing basis. I don't know if I can face the rest of my life (after these are gone) without them. So far I like the Double Coat best. Natch.