I spent all weekend sitting on the couch watching movies and knitting. I knit myself into a migraine. And still I kept on like a squinty Energizer Bunny. I don't know why the compulsion... I have been wondering lately whether I am actually moving forward at all in my life, so I can see how the visible progress of knitting could soothe that concern momentarily. God knows I have enough fiber to keep my neurosis nicely transferred through next Winter.
First up is the Winterthur Shawl. It is a terrible picture, but imagine it draped cozily across the shoulders of a statuesque Gaelic princess or something.
It's all in the details.
I love this shawl. I know this is heresy, but the first time I felt an AbFab, I was not especially impressed. The mohair seemed so scratchy to me. It looked all fluffy in the pictures, and I assumed—thought I know the danger of it—that (for the exorbitant freakin' price) the thing would be soft as baby bunnies and not unlike silken clouds. But mohair has a bit of a bite to it that helps it stick together to keep out drafts. This mohair clings bitingly against a chill in a very comforting way. And between the Manos and the Prism, I can stare at the colors for far longer than is publicly appropriate. I am converted. Without further ado, the stats.
Pattern—Winterthur Shawl, Colinette Comforts booklet
Yarn—Colinette Mohair in Velvet Leaf* and Pierrot (1 skein each); Manos in 113 Wildflowers (1 ½ skeins); Colinette Prism in Toscana* (one skein)
Size—approx 22 x 65... very frustrating that my measurements are almost spot on, but the picture in the booklet is obviously not to the same dimensions. I would guess it uses at least one more pattern repeat (if not two) to drape around the model the way it does. And the fringe looks to be 8 or 9 inches rather than the pattern recommendation of 6.
*Best Guess Colors (BGC)©
It knit up very fast. I alternated every other two rows between the light green mohair held with the Prism and the darker green with the Manos. I carried them up the side (and this made the tension on one side the tiniest bit more snuggly—need to watch that next time). I only had one skein of Prism and had planned on making up the other two with Manos, so just before the halfway mark, I cut the Prism and just used the Manos for a couple of repeats before bringing the Prism back in. I have enough of the mohairs and Manos left for a small scarf, but the Prism only had enough for a little adorment on some future project.
Did I mention that I love this shawl? It's only fault is a fair bit of shedding. But I am willing to overlook that. If you see it drifting through the sheeps and fiber at Rhinebeck, say hello.
Next up, the fastest hat ever. Gina sent me this yarn in swap for an RAOK giveaway. It was the perfect amount for this hat (and an add-in on my next "patchwork scarf").
I used the Vickie Square recipe in Knit Great Basics for a "sports beanie" and modified it for the 2.5st/in gauge. It took around 2 hours on size 11 needles (going down to 10.5s for the decreases). One of the yarns is Katia's Himalayan (it looks much lighter because of the flash, it is a darker camel color) , the other is an unknown mohair-y type yarn (caramel tweeded with a darker brown). Sweet Baboo, modeling above, says "This's gonna be one warm hat!" Thanks, Gina!
In between Sleepy Hollow (loved it), New York Stories (not so much, a bit too shmaltzy), and 13 Conversations about One Thing (made me sad, in a good way), I also worked a bit on Amon's green and red socks, which were not feeling photogenic, and started a gift scarf that I am not sure I love yet.
I also finished the knitting and started the finishing on Little Boy Blue. I hate this sweater on many levels. The yarn is unwieldy, the pattern is awkward, and between them they exemplify a perfect example of poor substitution on my part. (And that concludes today's alliteration.) Pics when the sweater is —finally— done.
Lastly, I love haikus and am sad that I have been too busy to participate in the lovely Haiku-along that I first saw on Norma's blog. So, better late than never:
Autumn geese, pure wool knitting
by the window, while
leaves fall, in the afternoon.