let the bind-off begin

Yesterday I tried to capture the floppy-bushel-basket-ness of the current hap.

Here it is, slumped in a heap:

And here it is being held up by the chair:

And this is all I can see while I'm knitting:

Well, that's not *all* I can see. I can also see this:

Because if there is a goat nearby when I sit in this chair in the barn paddock, she or he will climb up on the rock I use as a footrest, to see what I'm up to. And when Violet saw this huge sack, she thought it might be full of carrot pennies and peanuts.

I told her, Sorry, but no. 

There will be peanuts after evening chores, as usual.

"I know you're busy, don't interrupt what you're doing with those sticks.
I'll just have a little look, shall I?"

I suppose it never hurts to check.

The hap is ready to bind off, with 624 stitches on the last few rows. Binding off may take a while, but I'm looking forward to blocking this and seeing it all clean and tidy and stretched out evenly. I hope I like it. If not, I'll have to knit another one. This is a really nice project for nor'easter/insomniac/stop-worrying knitting, whether for 20 minutes or for 4 hours at a stretch. Toward the end I was going slowly to make it last. But now: starting the bind-off.

~~~~~

fiber forecast

 More snow last night and today. This time, very wet and heavy.

The goats are all starting to shed their cashmere undercoats. In every year past, I've started combing Acer by late February. Within a couple of weeks, several others have shed enough for a first combing. I try to keep up, doing a bit every day, because once all the goats have reached what an unkind observer might call "the ragbag stage," it's easy to get overwhelmed.

This year is different. I felt sorry for the goats having to carry their cashmere during that crazy warm December, and by January, I was already seeing bits of cashmere hanging off the ends of horns after a goat had had a little scritch. Starting to drop cashmere in January?!

Now that we've finally been getting lots of snow and consistently cold weather, the goats are using their cashmere for its original purpose and I have postponed taking it from them. There's a time between the cashmere "disconnecting" and falling or being rubbed off by a goat, so there's been some leeway. But the forecast for the next 10 days is considerably warmer, so it's time to wave a comb over a couple of goats who have wisps of cashmere literally hanging off their topcoats. 

In related news (it is, you'll see), a few weeks ago I decided to try to use up the Shetland yarn left after knitting the first and second haps. By making a third hap. 

And because I wanted it to be distinct from the two special gift haps, I added one dyed color to the natural yarn palette, and also created my own stripe sequence. And I'm making it a good bit larger.

The way this pattern works: after knitting the center as a flat diagonal diamond, all the edge stitches are picked up on a circular needle and the rest of the hap is knit in the round and becomes a large and unwieldy knitted sack. Try to imagine knitting up something the size of a very floppy bushel basket, of which one can only clearly see the top edge. So there's not much sense of how the finished item is going to look when it's ultimately off the needle and spread out for blocking.

In other words, my stripe sequence may turn out to be rubbish. But there's no point in worrying about it, because we'll find out soon enough.

I always like to wrap up a knitting project before cashmere harvesting begins (see how we're getting back to the goats?), because when I'm using my hands for slowly combing goats every day for weeks on end, knitting must be backburnered until the combs are scrubbed and tucked away for another year.

This hap could have been done and washed and blocked in February if I hadn't decided to make it so big. But the end is in sight, in part because I don't want to leave this massive project gathering dust while I comb goats. And in part because the stitch count increases by eight on every other row and there is a limit to how many stitches can be functionally crammed onto one needle. 

Speaking of goats, it's time for evening chores - which I can now start after 5 PM without bringing a flashlight. I really enjoy this part of the orbit!

I hope you are having a weekend as magical as a snowfall.

~~~~~

result

On Christmas night, I took a project off the needles. I can only knit in short sessions these days - no handknitting marathons in the foreseeable future - so this second Hansel Hap has been in the works all Autumn.

Before washing and blocking, I couldn't resist taking one picture of the hap in all it's rumpled disarray:

In case it looks slightly familiar, this is the second version of the hap I made for my Occasional Helper and his wife when they were expecting their first baby. You can probably guess why I made this one!

The wool was all ordered from Jamieson and Smith in Shetland again, and this time I bought the main color on a single cone instead of in multiple hanks or skeins. It's slightly more economical that way, plus saves a lot of splicing. Yarn on a cone still holds some of the oil used in processing, and I wondered if it would affect my tension, especially in a project combining oiled and washed yarns. I considered winding off the amount needed for the hap, making a hank, and washing it before knitting with it, but was told it shouldn't be necessary. And I actually forgot all about the oil until just before washing the hap, but then I remembered and it's a good thing, because it might have been a bit of a shock when, after an hour-long soak, the wash water looked like this:

Downright murky!

It took three rinses before the water was clear:

Then the hap was gently rolled up in a big towel and Moxie and I pressed as much water out of the yarn as possible before beginning the blocking process. Blocking a blanket is a lot of gentle stretching and flattening and pinning. 

First this side...

then that side...

then around a corner...

and around and around and around.

Until what initially seems like an acre of unmanageable stretchy wet wool

becomes an orderly four-foot square.

It's quite satisfying when done, but the blocker may need a little lie-down.

~~~~~

autumn

In the recent days of lovely weather, I've spent most of each day outdoors. Not just doing chores; also reading and eating and making notes about tasks that need doing before snowfall and ideas for next year's gardens. Moxie and I have often shared the chaise for a bit of knitting. Instead of knitting or reading or planning I could certainly have gone back into the house to continue my Autumn 2022 project of making the entire house more functional. It's a very slow process, working only an hour at a time, or two hours on a good day. I'm starting to see progress, and definitely don't want to lose momentum! But the clear air and blue sky and beautiful views have been too precious to waste. Especially as the daylight hours grow noticeably shorter.

Last night the temperate went down to at least 26F - that's where it was when I checked at about 2 AM. It had already dipped below freezing more than once recently, but this morning it was still below freezing during morning chores. Still...the sun came up and the sky was clear, and after chores I dragged a chaise into a sunny spot to enjoy breakfast.

When the sun was obscured by a conifer or the trunk of a hardwood, I felt cold and shifted the chaise to a sunny spot. The shade followed. It would only last a few minutes, but the difference between sunlit warmth and shade was an immediate chill. After some thought I did the sensible thing and went back into the house to put on wool socks and fetch my knitting.

By the time the chaise had been moved four times, I felt cold even in the sun. And when yesterday's knitting revealed a mysterious error in the very first section of stitches, an error that would require going back into the house for another set of needles, I surrendered, apologized to Moxie who had just gotten settled again, and went inside. Checked the forecast and lit the first fire in the woodstove.

It won't surprise me if the weather turns warm again, but tonight we'll have a fire.

~~~~~

the rest of the (hap) story

Remember the Hap?

Here's where it started.

Below is a link to the rest of the story.

In case you ever wondered.

Better late than never?

I wrote a piece about it, and about knitting gifts, 

for the wonderful fiberfolk at MDK, here:

The Gift of Collaboration

I hope you like it.

~~~~~

fiber friday

 The hap stitch pattern has become interesting:

No audiobooks, for the time being! 

I am having to pay very close attention

and do a lot of counting aloud.

The first color change has begun,

soft and subtle: 

I think - I hope! - this will be one of the nicest things I've ever knit.

It's certainly one of the most joy-filled. 

~~~~~

wednesday wip

The work in progress had a brief hiccup a few days ago, only because math is not my favorite subject. Fortunately I discovered my little miscalculation before knitting an extra acre of garter stitch.

Just a temporary setback.

This Shetland yarn is delightfully "sticky" - in knitters' parlance, the texture is such that a strand of this yarn will lightly grip another strand - so it was quite easy to get 144 live stitches back on the needle: they just sat there nicely, waiting to be picked up. Unlike my usual teeny sock stitches, which disappear into themselves the moment the working yarn is pulled out.

 That same sticky quality also makes joining the yarn quite simple. The first step is opening the two plies at the end of each yarn to be joined, and cutting an inch or so from one ply on each end.

One ply on each end to be trimmed,

which reduces the thickness of the joined section.

Next, cross the single plies, fold them back onto themselves, add a few drops of water, and roll the join briskly between palms.

I didn't get a picture of this step because it takes both hands and I was being careful. If anyone is baffled by my description and needs to see it, let me know and I'll set up a couple of shots with demo yarn.

Result.

Onward with the third skein of yarn!

~~~~~

2017 Pictorial

This has been a difficult year for many of us.

And that's all I'm going to say about it.

I hope these 12 images - one chosen from each month's posts - will bring a few smiles. Because there was much to appreciate and enjoy in my ordinary life, and I am happy to share with you.

Each caption is a link to the original post, if you feel like having a wander.

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

I hope we all have pleasant dreams tonight

and rise up to make a better world in 2018.

~~~~~

and we're back

Della knitting a sock. Excellent form for a novice!

The laptop was delivered tonight. I was watching for the Fedex truck and skated out with a flashlight to meet the driver walking up the driveway before he could hit the icy spots. Don't want anyone dropping the laptop!

So far, I've only uploaded the 742 images on my camera (which shows considerable restraint, doesn't it?) and now I'm going to sleep. But I'll be catching up on blog-reading in the next few days, and will write and post some snaps soon.

I've missed you!

~~~~~

sunday snapshots

Sock in the works:

Sock in the works

on a tiny air mattress:

Sock in the works

on a tiny air mattress

in a huge stock tank.

With knitter.

With knitter

with hobbit feet!

A totally gorgeous day.

Since I could barely move this morning, I filled the stock tank with hot water while I tottered around doing the morning feeding. Then spent hours soaking, listening to Hugh Fraser narrate an Agatha Christie book, and knitting. Feeding Piper treats. Watching Moxie and Della pop up from the ferns than plunge back in with a suddenness that did not bode well for chipmunks or mice.

I'm still in pretty rough shape, but will probably be able to get to sleep tonight, thank goodness. And it certainly was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

Hope your weekend was wonderful :)

~~~~~

thankful thursday

candy roaster squash, yesterday

candy roaster squash, today

The weather broke today, thank goodness and all the gods.

The past week has been very hot and stultifyingly humid, both day and night.

A/C cranking. Three fans in the house instead of the usual two, so Piper could have her own fan at night. By the third day of higher than 90 percent humidity, I had turned on the industrial-strength fans in the barns.

After morning chores which left me dripping sweat no matter slowly I moved - and believe me, I can move slowly - I sought respite in my spa.

My spa is an inflatable tub that you might think looks like a toddler wading pool in the shape of a bathtub, but it's NOT. It's a SPA. It says so right on the box.

Piper doesn't like it.

Here is the look on Piper's face when I am in the spa:

If you look closely, you'll see that Piper's concern at my insanely dangerous behavior does not interfere with her enjoying a good roll in the leaves.

There is a sort of cover that zips up across the top (another indication that this is not just some flimsy toy paddling pool, oh no), which helps if a person or an adventurous little cat requires a surface.

Moxie could tell right away that it's a spa.
Let the self-care begin!

A couple of times, I painted the scenery:

Once, I worked on a sock:

But today, this gloriously clear and fresh and fabulous day, all the windows in the house were open again and working outdoors was a pleasure. And Ms. Piper could enjoy rolling in the leaves without the nagging concern in the back of her mind:

if a human melts away into water and never come out again,

who will open the cans of food?

~~~~~