A Square for Pterry

We knitters are lucky. When tragedy strikes, be it us directly or those we know, we can do a wee bit more to assuage that desperate need to “do something to help” than your average person. We can knit.
So, when there is bad news, we can pull out our yarn


And knit...


And knit...


And tidy up...


And embroider*...


And make something that we hope will at least bring a smile to the face of the person afflicted.



This is my contribution to the afghan (Pratchgan) we of the Ankh-Morpork Knitter’s Guild over at Ravelry are putting together for Terry Pratchett, that wonderful creator of Discworld and author of numerous delightful books (and a knitter and spinner to boot). He was recently diagnosed with a rare early-onset form of Alzheimer’s. Because we, being mere fans and not family, can’t do much besides think good thoughts and send well wishes, we knit our appreciation for his work that has made so many of us laugh and hope that he remains well as long as possible.

*Afghan square explanation for those uninitiated to Discworld: Eta Beta Pi (sound it out…), the unofficial motto of the Unseen University, domain of the wizards and constituting one of the best satirical send-up of old-school Ivory Tower academia stuffed with quirky, pompous, often gluttonous, and frequently lazy academics of the elderly male sort. Really, just go read some of his books. You won’t be sorry.

Behold the Pinecone

There’s not much I can say about the Koolhaas that has not been said already. Twice. Like almost everyone else, I found the hat to be extremely enjoyable knitting. It’s satisfyingly fiddly to precisely the right degree – just enough to engage the brain but not so much as to require complete concentration. Perfect for me since the majority of my brain cells are currently mired in pondering thesis writing (six years of doctoral work and it all boils down to what I churn out on my laptop in the next month. Fun.). The Pinecone was just right for bouts of stress-induced knitting. Working with merino wool so soft that it would give cashmere a run for its money helped too.
The Pinecone will need a bath with some vinegar before real wearing since the yarn dyed my needles a rosy pink but otherwise, it is everything one would want a hat to be. Soft, wooly, and warm. With a nifty texture to boot!


Project Details:

Pattern:
Koolhaas Hat, by Jared Flood; Interweave Knits Gifts, Winter 2007

Yarn:
Handpaintedyarns.com natural dyed two-ply worsted weight merino in Cognac (I think this was in their odd and ends section)

Needles:
4.5mm/US 7 DPNs

Ever fickle

Because I now have a particular urge to resemble a pine cone (or an architectural feature). In a good way, of course.

Why it’s probably better to sleep on that brilliant idea you have in the wee hours

When it comes to knitting, I’m nothing if not governed by sudden whims and fancies. Just like my tendencies towards sudden obsessions, I’m equally prone to sudden covetousness regarding finished objects. A few pretty FO pictures et voilà, I must absolutely replicate that same exact thing on my needles right then and there. Of course, patterns and yarn purchases frequently ensue. Anyway, so there I was innocently browsing through Ravelry during a bout of insomnia the other night when I was seized with an absolute need to knit Foliage.
Out of my own hand-spun.
I don’t even remember what particular combination of FO pictures and forum conversations lead to the genesis of this need but there it was, firing at maximal speed through all my late-night twingy neurons to occupy my entire being. Never mind that I possessed neither bulky handspun nor solid roving that could be turned into bulky handspun. No, my mind raved, don’t let that little hurtle stop you! The hat would still look wonderful in a green and teal blend! (Why yes, my mind in the wee hours speaks in exclamatory statement. Doesn’t yours?) A green and teal blend that I must make right then and there! Right. Somehow my 3am brain thought that it would be a brilliant to use part of the December offering from the Spunky Eclectic fiber club, a roving space-dyed in bright lime-green and teal (and red that I had already separated and spun up). I would draft from both the green and teal portions at the same time as I spun and it will be beautiful!
So, with this vision of beautiful bluish-green blended yarn burning in my mind, I snatch up my spindle, made a lousy attempt at blending the two colors of roving together, and proceeded to make some of the ugliest yarn I have ever seen.


Yeah.
The wrongness of the yarn…the uneven thick and thinness, the strange marled looked, the odd transitions from “shade” to “shade,” oh just the fugliness of it all was enough to convince even my pigheaded manic 3am visionary brain that it was not working and was never, ever going to work. I mean who in their right mind would wear something knit out of this on their head? Deflated, I shoved the sad little spindle-full into a bag and called it a night.
But I still really wanted a Foliage. So, I went stash-diving and came up with this.


One buttery soft skein of natural-dyed merino in a color called Cognac procured in the early days of my knitting obsession from Handpainted Yarn, those folks related to Malabrigo.
I’m very much smitten with the subtle variations in the colors. They shift from a pale rosy brown to faint olive green.


Thousands times better than using teal-green marled handspun.


Now that I have the yarn all wound up though, the winds of whimsy have shifted yet again. I don’t think I need a Foliage after all. No, what I really, really could do with is a little Karma.
(And I really have no idea what to do with my fugly handspun...)

A Feast of St. Brigid Tradition

The third annual (Silent) Blogger's Poetry Reading. Consider yourself invited.
Something rather silly this year for me. This is one of my favorite Donne poems that never fails to make me laugh – a "love" poem that offers a hilarious view of the efforts of a persistent suitor with more wit than favor, with terrific insights into 17th century hygiene to boot.

The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
When we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, we are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that, self-murder be added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thy self or me the weaker now;
'Tis true, then learn how false fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

John Donne 1633