Yarn Cakes

Yeow! How lucky am I to be loved by my friends!! One of my work buddies gifted her dear old Mum's wool winder to me a couple of weeks ago. And so I just had to try it out to make sure that it works ... 

I have spent just a few hours re-winding half-balls, and ends-of-balls of wool into happy yarn cakes. These pretties had presented as long and floppy half-balls of 3-ply baby yarn; much more satisfactory, and who would recognise them now! So very neat and compact, and stackable.

 And the other half a ball of sock yarn, re-wound into a lovely centre-pull rolly-polly. This is my first entrelac sock by the way. :)

This alpaca yarn came in soft and loopy bundles, and re-rolled they take up much less room, and sit one on top of the other without falling out on to the floor.

 I never knew how much happiness this wool-winder gadget could bring. :)

Yarn storage is one of those tricky things that plagues every knitter/hoarder of wool. Apart from tidying up messy odds and ends, this is a fabulous way to introduce some uniformity into your stash, especially seeing as balls of wool aren't particularly stable items. These yarn cakes have a lovely flat bottom, and so they do sit and stack quite nicely upon the shelf.

But more than that, there is something mesmerising in the blurring-whirring of twirling yarn; in turning the handle and seeing the dancing-jumping messy tangle on the floor rapidly taking on ordered form. It speaks to that corner of my being that strives for perfection. It's a small enjoyment in the scheme of things, but I am finding it oddly satisfying.

If you're a knitter, and you don't have one, I'd suggest you go and see if you can forage out one of these for yourself. Yarn winders away!

Evie :)

A Baby and a Bear

It feels like it's been weeks since I was here. Well, it is weeks actually. Newborn babies are notorious for just smacking into your life and sending your train careering off down the tracks to Complete Chaosity. Not that it's my baby technically, but it is my baby's baby and so that pretty much counts for the same thing, sans breastfeeding and so, so many sleepless nights. I've had my nanny-hat on a bit here and there, sharing the odd disrupted night rugged up on the sofa, rocking a bundle into slumber, offering moral support. Washing and shopping and processing sink-fulls of dirty dishes ... and sneaking a few minutes here and there to add stitches to my knitting.

x x x Isn't he adorable ... [Baby R on Instagram] x x x

But now that Baby R is a few weeks old and things are starting to settle into some semblance of routine, my mind is returning to those things I have laid aside (and those things that have been forming clouds in the back of my mind). Like playing with the sack-full of Dorset fleece patiently waiting in the Room-of Requirement. Okay, it's not really the Room of Requirement, but I humour myself with this euphemistic reference to our garage. It truly fits everything but the car ...

Fleecy Poll Dorset fleece, smelling of lanolin and sheepy sheep. 

Full of prickles and burrs, barley seeds and dirt.

 

With Watson's poodle wool thrown in for contrast

 Here I must thank the dog for donating some wool. Just a little bit. He didn't like me brushing his ears before going to the groomer (think cleaning the house before the cleaner arrives). He was a handful, and he unwillingly yielded a handful. This was some perverse justice at work, considering all the knitting he has eaten this year.

I was weary from work last night and too tired to think anything but woolly thoughts. My hand turned to carding a job-lot of washed-up fleece. I was listening to Girl With a Pearl Earring [Tracey Chevallier] while plying wisps of wool between the dog's slicker brushes (works a treat). I had not started this process with anything in mind other than the brushing of wool. I'm not quite sure how the bear happened. He started out as possibly a rabbit, but quickly morphed into a very jowly dog. As my audiobook classic concluded it's final chapter, I realised that he had in fact, emerged as a bear. A fat-faced, slightly lopsided bear ... with potential. :)

It's funny how a random process, a beginning made with no end in sight, yields one small and happy thing that is so hugely satisfying. I suppose (in a kind of a way) it's a bit like making a baby. :)

Now that I am a grandmother I have one more person in my life to love truly, madly, deeply (and one more reason to make fun stuff).

Happy making my friends,

Evie 
x x x

Neglected blog and the Genteman's Socks

Good evening to my sadly neglected blog. With the demise of my trusty (not so trusty) technology tool and the busyness of the last two weeks, I have had little time and not much opportunity to post. But in between the stuff of life I have still managed to squeeze in a few stitches here and there. Last week I rummaged out a small hand-quilting project that needs be finished, and work has slowly continued on the railway stitch soldier socks.

I'm not sure mine are going to turn out *quite* as nicely as these ones, knitted by Grumperina (another lovely knitting blog to add to the basket). She does make hers look so neat and tidy, although now that I have progressed beyond the calf decrease I suspect mine will start to look more like they should.

Grumperina's Gentleman's Sock in Railway Stitch, from Nancy Bush's Knitting Vintage Socks

 

 

Detail of the calf decrease - not sure mine looks quite so neat ...

Grumperina has knitted her socks using The Gentleman's Sock in Railway Stitch pattern from Nancy Bush's Knitting Vintage Socks. I have been battling on using the pattern that I found in The Sydney Morning Herald in 1914. It is not at all user-friendly, and so far, I have resisted re-writing it in order to gain insight into the [now very respected] skill and acuity of the knitters of a century ago.

I was captive in the car for a couple of hours this afternoon, and was glad that I had grabbed my knitting bag for for the journey. I managed to complete 18 rounds of passenger-knitting on the way there and back; I always love it when I can make something of otherwise unusable time! The soldier socks are dark brownish and I have some navy contrast put aside for the stripey heel when I get there. I'm so glad I found Grumperina's socks, because now I know what mine are *supposed* to look like!! It's too late in the evening to try and take photos of dark brown socks, but maybe in a couple of days I'll post up a progress picture for comparison.

I fear my prototype sock will be somewhat dodgy. There is no way that I will be frogging it though. I shall approach it a manner becoming the Persian carpet-maker, and see it's faults as the imperfection of humanity. It will still be a thing of beauty to me.

Evie
xxx

Untangling

I am sitting at my favourite table in my favourite cafe in my favourite town at the top of the Mountains, sipping hot tea and watching the world go by ...

... and this nasty mess of wool is nesting in my lap. The untangling process has begun. You know how it got to be like this, don't you? [see "What The Dog Did"]. I need not say more.

I had thought I might try casting on stitches for the beginnings of baby socks, but I gave up that notion when I saw the extent of this sad woolly tangle.

And all the while I am basking in sunlight and admiring embroidered cushions with bright coloured flowers,

and bobbly fringes.

I've drunk three cups of tea in the bright morning sun, and have untangled and balled-up this much yarn.

But I've bundled it up now and paid for my tea. And back up the hill there are daisies in baskets, (it must be a happy thing to own a flower shop),

and there are pink tarts and brown sprinkly sweet things in the baker's window. I am looking (but not buying) ...

And now I have finished, after stoppings and startings. Untangled, re-balled, and ready for socks (tiny ones). Just another one of my favourite things.

Evie xxx

Winter Woolly Katoomba

The Blue Hour Cafe - Katoomba

This morning I drove up the mountain to Katoomba, the principal township and tourist mecca of this City-Within-a-National-Park. I thought I might get to take a couple of photos of the view from the top of the main street, but in true mountains form, it was one of those shrouded in mist kind of mornings. So instead of a Blue Mountains vista you are getting a view of my feet on the tiled doorstep of my favourite little breakky spot in this town that I love. I should have remembered that the top of the mountain has a special weather pattern all of its own. While I woke to a grey but temperate morning down my end of the range, at the other end of the hill it was somewhat chilly misty moisty and spitting with rain.

  

With bacon with egg and a sizable coffee under my belt, I tottered up the hill that is Katoomba Street with little happy snap camera still in my hand. It was just after 9am, and many of the shops up and down the strip were still sleepy-head closed. But the florist, as is the case with most florists, must have been up earlier than most to have these delightful fresh blooms stacked in the wagon by their door.

And this is a pic of one of the council garbage bins that are dotted along the pavements. Right at the top of the street is the historic Carrington Hotel, queen of the roaring 20s, now quite faithfully restored and bought back to life. The influence of this grand old lady is beautifully reflected in this rendition of the native Waratah, once abundant in the surrounding bushland. Very pleasant picture of a garbage bin, don't you think?

But my mission this morning was to deliver a goodly bag of unwanted yarn to a band of community yarnbombers; always greedy for woollen string with which to beautify the urban landscape. With my secret drop off under my belt, I loitered around for a bit until the Katoomba Knitting & Needlecraft store opened it's doors at 10.00am (See, it is a sleepy town).

Knitters candy

So joyous and bright

So dependable

And this is what I was waiting for. Navy blue sock yarn. While it *might* appear to be a fairly pedestrian choice, I have it in mind to knit school socks for my man-child. I rail against commercial cotton socks that grow holes in the toes and make feet sweaty and cold. I bought four balls. There's quite a whack of yarn in these, and considering my man-child likes to wear those ankle sport socks I reckon I'll get at least eight pairs out of this lot. But it's going to be a handbag job; one of those projects that sits in my bag for passenger trips in the car and waiting around in waiting rooms. But I'm glad I managed to bag the yarn at 20% off the usual price.

And while I was there, I picked up several balls of lovely Heirloon 5-ply in a softly-softly grey. Will be perfect for this classic raglan baby cardigan methinks. Maybe, if I am lucky, I might be able to get this on the needles this evening.

And now for the last thing, which maybe should have been the first thing, a little ta-da! Amongst the woolly jumble inherited from CC's mum back in January were a few balls of vintage Cleckheaton 8-ply. I can't decide whether it's caramel or brown rice, but I think caramel sounds better. I couldn't really date the label, but I'm guessing maybe from the 1970s? Anyway, I finished these off last night, with a crochet trim in mocha to tart them up a bit. So now that I think on it, perhaps the overall effect is cappuccino. Isn't it wonderful that yarn doesn't go off or expire? And in these days of everything-old-is-new-again I am pleased with my waste not want not baby booties. With a little more cloudy rainy weather on the cards for the weekend I am happily anticipating lots more of the clickety-clack (with pots of tea).

Happy stitching,

Evie xxx