New Neutrals

It's been quite some time since earth tones have grabbed the limelight, but based on the clothing and accessories appearing on fashion runways and in major stores, they're back. Big time.

Rich, chocolate browns are being paired with their traditional siblings such as milk chocolate, tan and sand, as well as spicy shades of tumeric, ginger, chili pepper, pumpkin, rust and burgundy.

In other words, all the classic fall colors are once again right on trend. If the loooong reign of cool neutrals has left you out in the cold, now's your chance to find the yarns you're seeking in the warm tones you love.

RELATED

    10 Terrific Fall Color Combos

Santa Delivered

This year, Santa delivered precisely what I wanted most — a sweater quantity of yarn in a lovely shade of charcoal.

It's Valley Yarns Amherst, a 100% merino wool in worsted weight. This is the same yarn I used for Tikkyn Flagstone, so I know for a fact it's not only soft and light but very warm. It's also quite affordable, which is important since this will be a casual, everyday cardigan that's likely to see heavy wear.

I already have several projects on the needles, but as you can see, I couldn't resist swatching. Right now, I'm leaning toward the slipped rib stitch shown, because it's easy to work, produces a moderately stretchy fabric, and has an interesting texture. I'm also experimenting with different needle sizes to determine which one produces the right mix of drape and density.

I'm a slow knitter, so it's a toss up whether this will be finished in time for wear this winter, but it really doesn't matter. Sooner or later, I'll have a cozy, warm sweater that suits my style, goes with everything in my closet and fills a very real need.

And that's the best gift of all.

Wishing you and yours a bright and happy New Year!

Hand Knits to the Rescue

In this household, hand knit items see plenty of daily use, but last weekend they truly came to the rescue.

With no fanfare whatsoever, my old but highly reliable furnace quietly gave up the ghost. This unanticipated event started a mad scramble to find a reliable HVAC contractor to assess the furnace, fix it if possible, and replace it if it wasn't fixable.

The weekend timing slowed progress a bit, so the house was without heat for four days. Luckily, the weather was comparatively mild for December, so a few strategically placed portable heaters managed to keep the interior at a fairly steady 60 degrees F even when nighttime temps plummeted into the 30s. 

What's a knitter to do? The answer is obvious.

Each day I piled on the layers, opting for some combination of a basic turtleneck, heavy vest and bulky knit sweater capped with a shawl for warmth rather than sartorial flair.

A rotating array of fingerless mitts helped keep my hands warm, but thanks to my recent efforts to build coordinated sets, I was (for the most part) able to avoid looking like a hapless hobo.



Mid-weight afghans worked in wool-cotton blends were abandoned, and the bulky weight wool versions of Angletyn and Flashpoint were pulled from storage and immediately put into action.

Tikkyn Flagstone with its woolly fiber and waffle-like texture is light, lofty and wonderfully cozy, so it too emerged from storage.

The result? By the time heat was restored, nearly every chair in the house sported an afghan at the ready, a daunting array of sweaters, vests, shawls and mitts had been pressed into service, and I'd learned an invaluable lesson.

From afghans and blankets to sweaters, shawls and mitts, there's simply no such thing as too many hand knits. 


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Wallowing in Wool

One of the few things I love about winter is the unbridled opportunity to wallow in wool. From scarves and shawls to cardigans, mitts and afghans, every woolly item sees action on a regular basis.

Spring has arrived and summer is on the horizon, so an ode to the wonders of wool may seem odd, but like many of you, I work with it year round. From 100% wool to fiber blends, I rely on its springy resilience to keep my stitches even and help pieces rebound after washing.

Years ago, I discovered wool's inherent versatility when I worked in an environment where business suits were daily fare. After much experimentation, many false starts and lots of wasted dollars, I discovered the solution: classic, tailored suits in fine wool fabrics. They traveled well, required minimal maintenance and lasted a long time.

When I used my noodle and chose wisely and well, a few suits and a handful of separates offered countless variations that made it easy to dress for work and pack for business travel. In concession to our hot and humid summers, I had a few summer weight pieces, but overall, my work wardrobe consisted of a year-round core of wool and wool-silk blends.


When I began knitting in earnest, I had to relearn this important lesson. Early on, I made an oversized gansey in a wool-acrylic blend, followed by a sweater jacket in 100% wool. Both pieces survive today, but the difference between the two is notable. Pilled and rather limp, the gansey is restricted to at-home use. The all-wool sweater jacket, looks fresh and (nearly) new, so it's quite wearable. (One day soon, I'll try to get pictures of both.)

All of this is a long way of saying, with a few notable exceptions, wool is the common denominator in the yarns I love most. Warm weather may be on its way, but one way or another, I'll still be wallowing in wool.

PS: The photos show some of the wool and wool-blend yarns currently on the short list for summer knitting. Subject to change, of course!


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Fall Fantasy

Several years ago, I devoted a healthy chunk of an extremely hot, sticky summer to my first top-down sweater, a cardigan. 

Working on that project taught me several powerful lessons. In a nutshell, top-down cardigans are:

• Cleverly constructed.
• Basically blankets with sleeves.
• Cozy to work on in winter but sweltering in summer, especially when the yarn is wool.

Not long after it was finished, I realized it was a flop. 

I loved the yarn (Merino 5 by Crystal Palace) and the color. The pattern (Flair by Wendy Bernard) was nice, versatile and adaptable. The finished cardigan was the ideal weight for fall and fit just fine.

The problem? As lovely as they are on others, on me raglan sleeves and top-down designs accentuate my weak points and are very unbecoming. So the sweater languished in a drawer for a couple years, but was never worn. (Never. Nada, zilch, zero. Not once.) 

I finally faced facts and frogged it. Frogging a finished item is difficult under any circumstance, but it can be particularly problematic for those of us who are slow knitters because sweaters, afghans and similar large projects represent so very many hours of diligent effort.

That was then, this is now. 

I've been studying various swatches, trying to decipher what this yarn might want to become.

A few months ago, I thought it might be destined for an afghan. That option is still on the table, but I think I was on the right track the first time (cardigan) and just choose the wrong method (top-down). 

With that in mind, I'm adopting a fresh approach. The design is extraordinarily simple (of course), features some of my favorite stitches (of course), incorporates modular construction (of course), and has been floating around in my portfolio for years (of course).

The crisp air has me indulging in a familiar fall fantasy: This will be the year this lovely yarn becomes the sweater it was meant to be.

PS: I know, I know! Afghans, shawls, a flurry of Christmas knits, quick cowls and mitts on the needles (more on these soon), and now chatter about a cardigan. It sounds like the early stages of startitis. I'm working hard to prevent a relapse, but we shall see ...

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Lost in Neverland

My sister always said in my world, every skein of yarn and knitting project had a story, and she was right. This particular sweater saga is just one example, something I alluded to in a recent stashbusting post and reader Martina insisted I share.

The tale begins on a gorgeous fall day. I was out of town staying with a dear friend, and we'd decided to spend the afternoon running errands and doing casual things. We tackled a few items on her list, then popped into a local yarn store so I could fondle fiber and inhale yarn fumes.

I quickly discovered a pile of Korall, a lovely chunky merino yarn that was exquisite and expensive. Enamored with the soft hand and beautiful clear red, I stood rooted to the spot, stroking it and admiring the color.

Perhaps I muttered something about a sweater. Perhaps I sighed audibly, knowing full well I'd already spent every cent of my yarn budget on premium yarns to make gifts for friends and family.

Since I was browsing not buying, I stiffened my spine and moved on, petting random skeins while I explored the store. As we climbed into the car to head to lunch, my friend handed me a bag filled with the lush Korall and said, "I saw how much you admired this, so consider it a belated birthday gift."

I was speechless. Not only was it a thoughtful gesture, that bag of yarn represented an outlay far greater than our traditional token gifts. I stammered my thanks, we hugged and then got on with our day.

When I returned home, I started searching for a suitable sweater pattern. With the limited yardage typical of most chunky weights, it was painfully evident I would need more yarn. (The loose and relaxed look I prefer requires plenty of yardage.) After lots of math and preliminary swatching, I realized I needed roughly 15 more skeins to make the vivid red cardigan I imagined.

And so it began. I hit the phones and called every local yarn store. No luck. I contacted the original yarn store to try to snag more, but the Korall was gone. I searched online, contacted more stores, and struck out again and again.

Finally I managed to track down 10 skeins of red and 10 of black at two distant locations. After months of searching, I wasn't willing to risk running short: I bought all of it, paid a bundle for shipping, and soon it was on its way. Finally, I would have sufficient yarn in hand.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months as I swatched and searched for a design that would optimize this new mix of red and black, hoping to create the wonderfully wearable cardigan I envisioned. As time marched onward, I began to wonder if adding a third color might improve my options.

Yep, you guessed it. I tracked down a gorgeous purple (Torino Bulky), bought a handful of skeins, then returned to sketching concepts and scouring books, blogs and Ravelry in an effort to find the perfect pattern.

Therein lies the rub. I swatched repeatedly and tried the growing assortment of bulky yarn in one design after another to no avail. In more than one instance I knit significant portions (50%, 60%, 70%) before it became evident the design wasn't right for me, the yarn or both.

Time and again, the Korall was swatched, knit, frogged, rewound and returned to stash. I simply couldn't seem to land on a combination that did justice to it and my friend's generous gesture.

Then one day, the right light bulb turned on. I worked up some sketches, whipped out my needles, knit several swatches then made this:

While I'd cheerfully forego the years of trial and error when the yarn and I were lost in Neverland, this version of Flashpoint worked up so quickly and was such fun to make, I couldn't be happier.

Clearly from the very beginning, the yarn longed to be something other than a cardigan. This is actually good news, since many bulky merino skeins remain in the stash, eager to find their purpose and fulfill their destiny. As afghans, not sweaters.


UPDATE
And more are OTN or in the pipeline.

COAT Weather

COAT weather has arrived, and no, I'm not talking about how cold it is or how much snow has accumulated on the ground.

I'm referring of course to the phenomenon known as "cast on all things" (COAT), a distracting but non-life-threatening condition that lurks in the shadows waiting to snare unwary knitters.

And snared I have been.

(Clockwise: cloth set; mitts; test swatches; cardigan)

Sadly, this is just the tip of the iceberg. I've been diligently swatching and casting on for all sorts of projects, so many in fact, I'm beginning to run out of the over-sized bowls I use to corral WIPs.

Some of the projects have a definite future, others are on much more tenuous ground, and let's not discuss those that aren't pictured. 

The real problem? The recent cluster of cast-ons contradicts my commitment to focus on one or two primary projects and finish them before I start more. Because my knitting time is limited, one smallish project coupled with one mid- to large project tends to offer the right mix.

Obviously, I'm way past that point. The problem is magnified by a flurry of designs that are on the drawing board and eager to leap on the needles. I've tried consoling myself with the reminder this happens to most of us at one time or another, and one day soon, I'll stumble across my misplaced ability to focus, which is undoubtedly buried in a snow bank, hiding under a pile of yarn or cowering in the stash cupboard.

Meanwhile, I've been eyeing this lovely Cash Vero and wondering if perhaps I should cast on a cardigan ...

It appears COAT weather might be here to stay. 

Stop by  Frontier Dreams, Small Things, Wisdom in Wonder and Natural Suburbia to see what everyone is making.

The Frog Princess

If your world is at all like mine, not every knit project turns out precisely the way you envisioned it.

Sometimes the result is far better than expected. Sometimes the outcome is just as you imagined. And sometimes a project falls far, far short of the goal.

When the latter occurs, I'm learning to be more ruthless. Last fall, for example, I frogged this wonderfully soft Half-Braidy which I rarely wore ...



and repurposed the yarn into a snuggly, closer-fitting neckwarmer that saw near-daily use during the cold and endless winter.

For good measure, I frogged these mitts and reknit them as well.

In the hapless example below, the afghan strips were completed and ready for seaming before I finally accepted the fact blocking wasn't going to solve the fatal flaws.

The strips were frogged and the reclaimed yarn became Twegen Harvest ...

In other instances, projects have been frogged but the yarn has yet to find its cosmic purpose.

Nimbus cardigan? Frogged ...

Flair cardigan? Frogged ...

but the yarn is already being swatched again.

The swatches tell the real story. 

Knitting offers many challenges and rewards. We strive to create what we've envisioned, perfect our skills and put great yarn to good use. The advantage with knitting unlike so many other facets of life is that when a project fails to meet our expectations, we have the opportunity to try, try again. 

It's impossible to point to a particular date or specific project, but one thing is crystal clear: Somewhere in my knitting journey, I crossed an invisible line and moved from the "frog-free" zone to the "frog freely" zone.

I've become the Frog Princess and for now that's fine with me.

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Spotlight | Cotton Fleece Yarn

It’s no secret.

I’m a big fan of Cotton Fleece. The blend of cotton (80%) and wool (20%) in light worsted weight is well-suited to a variety of projects. It produces an adaptable, mid-weight fabric that's comfortable to knit, wear or use year round. It holds up well, doesn’t shed and doesn't pill, and the wool helps finished items retain their shape.

This yarn offers a wonderful assortment of colors and combines the best qualities of cotton with just enough wool to add the touch of springiness and memory I want and definitely need. Through the years, it's found its way into many projects.

Let’s do a whirlwind tour.

Afghans

Breidan Baby

Breidan Lake

Color Check
Featured by Brown Sheep on Facebook (Aug 31, 2015)

Drumlin Gems

Drumlin Neutrals

Drumlin Brights

Twegen Coffee

Dishcloths & Coasters

April Showers

Whimsy Owl Family

Sweet Hearts

Sweaters

Moore Colors

At one time, I had more Cotton Fleece in my stash than any other single type of yarn.

Those days are long past, and in fact, the supply has dwindled to the point where there’s just enough to make one more lap-sized afghan in rich coffee colors. (Update: Twegen Coffee has since been completed and the pattern has been released.)

After that, the odds and ends will undoubtedly find their way into more coasters, dish cloths and small whimsical knits. Then the Cotton Fleece will be gone.

On one hand, I'm pleased as punch at the prospect. After all, the goal of stash knitting is to actually deplete the stash, right?

On the other hand, the thought of a yarn cupboard devoid of this versatile yarn is rather unsettling. That may explain why I have such an overwhelming urge to order a skein in every color and start the whole cycle all over again.

UPDATE
Patterns for many of these projects are now available: Click here.

PS: For those who are wondering: I have no affiliation with Brown Sheep, the company that makes Cotton Fleece. I just happen to love this yarn.

Frog It with Flair

The times change and we change with them.
Latin proverb, sometimes attributed to Ovid

We all know I'm deep in the throes of an afghan addiction, the proof of which can be found all over this blog and on Ravelry.

My afghan obsession represents a change from the past because for a very long time, I thought of myself as a sweater knitter. It was a reasonable outlook, since for many years that was where I focused the majority of my knitting time, efforts and yarn dollars.

A few years ago, back when I was primarily a sweater knitter, I spent a healthy chunk of an extremely hot, sticky summer knitting a modified version of Flair by Wendy Bernard. It's a nice, versatile pattern.

Working on this cardigan, however, taught me many things:

• Top-down construction is clever and convenient.
• Top-down, one-piece sweaters are basically blankets with sleeves.
• Top-down, one-piece wool sweaters can be cozy to work on in January but sweltering in June.

If you recall this project at all, it's most likely for one reason: My talented friend Robin took some lovely photos of the FO. The sweater is nice, but as you can see by the examples below, her pictures are dynamite. (To see more of her professional work, go to Robin Feld Photography.)

Recently, I took a careful look at the cold, hard facts, an exercise that was quite revealing. This is essentially a three-season cardigan, but over the course of a couple of years, I’ve worn it exactly zero times.

Nada. Never.

Why?

It turns out one-piece raglan sweaters are extraordinarily unbecoming on me. This fact has led me to a difficult but logical determination: It’s time to frog the frickin’ thing.

I've only just begun the rip, rip, ripping of all that knit, knit, knitting, but now that the initial shock has passed, it promises to be a remarkably soothing and contemplative task.

What will the yarn become in its next manifestation? I have no clue. It's possible it will find its way into another sweater. It's equally likely to end up in an afghan, but that decision can wait.

For now, I'm going to take my time and frog it with flair.