The Stockholm Vest is well on its way. Not even a month ago, I had started two other vests that were absolutely beautiful and using beautiful yarn, but I just couldn’t get past the first 20 rows on either pattern.
I thought I had lost my ability to knit. It was so until I picked up this pattern from Petite Knits.
The yarn I’m using is The Border Mill North Coast Tweed, from Scotland. The label says that the colorway “Black Isle” was inspired by a road trip around Scotland’s far north coast. It is spun from pure Shetland wool. Though the foundational colorway is black, there is a lot of deep dark brown and even some gray tones that give it a very earthy look, peaty even.
I love this yarn, and once I got started, I loved the pattern, as well. It’s funny how you can get caught up in a failure or what seems to be a failure, only to find your inspiration once again.
Though it doesn’t look like much yet, I would say that I’m three-quarters of the way done. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
I’m coming close to the toe on the first sock of a pair. Haven’t I showed these to you already? I can’t remember.
They’re “DK Vanilla Socks” by Kay at Crazy Sock Lady Designs.
The design is simple and unadorned but not necessarily an easy knit. I’m using Spun Right Round’s Squish DK, which is a 100% superwash merino (wool). I prefer not using super wash or anything with synthetic material added to the yarn, but when giving a gift one never knows how the recipient will wash the item. As they say, “Better safe than sorry”. Right?
The colorway is called, “Quake”. It’s really beautiful with a solid but subtle grey background with shades of browns and blacks and darker greys interspersed throughout.
The yarn is sourced from South America and is dyed in small batches so every skein is unique in it’s speckling and saturation. It’s then rinsed in a lavender wash before it’s ready for us crafters.
If I have underestimated the amount I need to complete a pair of socks, I will not be able to find the exact same yarn. But I’ve never found that to be that important. I kind of like the variations.
Now I remember why this seems familiar to me. I used this very same yarn to knit a pair of socks some years ago. But those had a variation of yarn colors for the toes and the heels. You may remember.
Sock knitting is not my favorite kind of knitting but I was pleasantly surprised when pressured by my daughter to knit her socks that it was something I actually could do. I don’t know how many I’ve knit since that 1st pair.
Since I started knitting late in life, I’ve since surprised myself now that I can knit sweaters and scarves and shawls and hats and mittens and gloves and all kinds of things. I knit lace work, stranded color work, cables and all kinds of designs and patterns.
Nothing I knit is perfect but it just goes to show that you CAN teach an old dog new tricks.
Here is my new interim project, Fingerless gloves, “Leaves” from Valknitting by Valentina Fezova – Georgieva.
Is there a point where a project is messed up enough that you just can’t gift it? Well, that’s how I’m feeling.
It’s not that it was a difficult pattern, it’s that somehow I didn’t hit the mark on stitch counts. I ripped it all the way back one time and then decided, even though it wasn’t perfect, that I would continue to complete the left one.
The Turkish yarn, “Alize”, is simply described (in translation) as wooley wool but makes up only about half of the fibre. The other half is acrylic. Not my favourite, but I was considering the ease of washing and drying them and it wasn’t unpleasant to knit.
I’ve started the second one of the pair thinking that the first could just be practice. If it turns out better, I can knit another to match the good one and then it could still be a gift, right?
I don’t know why but this small project has shaken my confidence in my abilities. Isn’t it strange how small things can have such a big impact.
I think these gloves are so pretty and worth a second chance. If I can knit sweaters and large and small shawls and mittens and hats and even do colorwork, lace and cables, shouldn’t I be able to knit some fingerless mitts?
The shadows in the jungle were deeply green and impenetrable to those without eyes to see. The soft breeze was cool, yet the air was also warm and cloying. Her light, filmy garments clung to her wet skin. She felt… she felt like she was warmly alive, sensual, moved.
She had come to the pools of Naemahn. How she had come, she didn’t know. Why was she here? Who had brought her? What was she to do? And yet, not knowing was not unsettling as she stood at the edge of the water. These were subtle and slow moving streams connecting miles of waterways.
The water was covered completely with green algae, large pads of lily with erect stems supported graceful and large, creamy pink blossoms. Through the soft light, blossoms of ruby, violet and golden flowers could be seen peeking out along small paths into the interior catching what light penetrated the shadows.
Large birds with soft grey feathers and long beaks stood on spindly legs that pierced the water. Brightly colored parrots flew randomly and silently through the dense canopy above the water. Other creatures moved through the underbrush, soundlessly on soft padded feet, eyes glowing as they lowered their heads to drink from the pools. All the sounds were muffled and murmured almost imperceptibly to those without ears to hear.
A luxurious flat bottomed barge painted with many colors pulled up in front of her. It was draped in silk fabrics that waved softly as they caught the breeze and completely obscured what was inside. A stunning woman dressed in purple and lavender, embroidered in golden thread, appeared on the deck and invited her to board. Without hesitation she stepped aboard, noticing only at that moment that other rafts similar to this one were seemingly languishing but slowly floating through the waterway.
The woman held open the curtains and a fragrant interior slowly came to light as her eyes adjusted to the candle light. Smoke from incense filled the room. The heady scents of frangipani, myrrh, frankincense, bergamot, rose, clove, cedar, patchouli and more seemed to sedate her. The interior was filled with a pallet and cushions that were covered in the most lush fabrics in saturated jewel tones. The many shades of greens, blues, reds and yellows dazzled the eyes. Every sense was heightened.
The woman motioned for her to sit among the many cushions. She did not resist. She saw no reason to. The barge rocked slowly as it moved away from the shore. The woman, whose name was Ipreet, began to loosen her clothes and slipped them from her shoulders. She sat next to her and gently laid her back on the cushions. The pleasure she felt from the movement of the boat, the many fragrances, the soft light, and Ipreet’s hands, caused her to move gently like a cat.
Ipreet began to massage her slowly and softly with oil of which she could not identify. Its fragrance and softness was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Slowly Ipreet had removed her clothes entirely and was massaging her breasts, her thighs, her stomach, arms and feet and reaching to touch her most delicate parts causing her to reach the heights of ecstasy without letting her reach the peak where every feeling would be released.
After sometime, she felt someone board the raft and enter the room. It was a man. He was dressed in a pure white robe, a white turban and he was barefoot. He had a white beard and deep brown eyes that were almost black and there was a golden light emanating from them. Her legs were open and he sat at her feet.
Ipreet brought him a brass plate with a fragrant smoke climbing sensually to the ceiling. She was feeling an intense desire for this man, though she did not know him. She wanted him to touch her… to continue what Ipreet had started. Where he sat, she could see that he had a large penis. She moved sensually as to arouse him but he remained flacid. She wanted him to enter her. She wanted to have what she knew would be the most remarkable fireworks of her life but he sat there and only smiled at her showing perfectly white teeth and full lips.
Ipreet slowly covered her body as she lay there. She remained uncovered from the waist down. She made no effort to cover her private parts. She wanted the man to make love to her, but he brought the plate between her legs and blew the warm smoke into her. As he did this, she exploded into a million stars of every color. He stayed there, it seemed to her, for seconds, minutes or hours, she didn’t know.
She fell into a deep and mystical sleep filled with beautiful and strange dreams. When she awoke, she was at the waters edge, rocking gently. She was alone. Ipreet and the stranger were gone. The dim interior of the barge was still lit with candles and the incense still burned. She moved to get up and she was aware that she was once again clothed. Her skin felt soft and the fragrance lingered on her skin and in her hair, evidence that she had not been dreaming.
She stepped off the boat onto the jungle floor and moved into the shadows. It was as if no time had passed. She needed no guide. She seemed to know her way out. She felt more alive and fulfilled than she had ever felt before.
She would not soon forget what had happened to her this day… or was it night?
eyeamdust 