Tag Archives: q for you

Q for You: How much time do you have for knitting?

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Knitters Graph Paper Journal in action

See this little bitty bit of a cuff of a mitt? That and a 7-by-2-inch strip of Slade ribbing are the sum total of my knitting for the past two+ weeks. The cuff is me working out some thoughts about a pair of by-request fingerless gloves for my niece. (“Surprise me!” is, I find, a major stumper.) And granted, I have spent some amount of time doodling possible colorwork patterns for them (in my Knitters Graph Paper Journal — love that thing!) that could have gone to knitting. But my knitting time seems to be getting more and more scant, and it is Bumming. Me. Out.

I’m forever seeing full-time knit designers proclaiming that their new shawl or sweater “knits up in no time!” and — honestly? — it makes me want to throw something at them. Granted, there’s a lot more to the job than the knitting, but when someone knits for a living there’s no way around the skewed perspective. If, like me, you have thirty minutes one evening and an hour five days later, nothing knits up in no time. And it’s got me wondering what the typical experience is, to the extent that there is such a thing. So here’s my Q: How much time do you have for knitting? On average, rough guess. Do you knit every day/night? Longer chunks on weekends? Only when you travel? Or what.

And if you have any tips for maximizing the use of that time, or carving out more of it, I’m sure we’d all love to hear it!

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PREVIOUSLY in Q for You: Do you knit from patterns?

Q for You: Do you knit from patterns?

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Q for You: Do you knit from patterns?

One of the most vivid memories I have from my first few months as a knitter, hungrily combing the internet for information and guidance and what all, was the moment I saw these mitts of Margaux Hufnagel’s. I asked her about them and she told me: Improvised. I’d knitted two or three pairs of mitts by then, but I hadn’t grasped the basics of construction or the true meaning of a gauge swatch — the magic carpet, as I like to say, that will set you free to go wherever you will as a knitter. So I literally could not fathom how a person could just make up something that specific and gorgeous and perfectly fitted. And it also made me completely nuts that there wasn’t a pattern, because I wanted those mitts desperately.

In the interim, I’ve definitely been known to pontificate about (what I perceive as) too great a dependence on patterns amongst the general knitting public. It’s so important to know the basics of construction and how to make and measure a gauge swatch so that you are in control of what you’re making — whether it’s improvising a pair of mitts or tinkering with a sweater pattern to make it fit your unique torso. But lately I hear myself spouting off more often about how important it is to knit from patterns.

For most of 2012 — the first year of my knitting life — I had a job I was not remotely creatively fulfilled by, but it was pretty 9-to-5, paid well, and left me my evenings to do with whatever I pleased. (After 11 years of working every waking moment — I didn’t even know what an evening was.) I was comfortable but bored, so knitting for me then was my creative outlet. After a long dull day, the last thing I wanted to do with my new-found free time was follow a pattern — I had to either heavily modify or totally improvise in order to feel that I was really creating. But because I was so new to knitting, I made tons of (valuable) mistakes and awkward choices, and wasted a lot of time doing things in more difficult ways than were necessary, not knowing any better or having anyone to teach me.

2013 was the exact opposite. Wanting to concentrate on Fringe, I had quit the job and taken up freelance again, meaning I was back to working non-stop, but on things I love. At the end of wildly hectic, high-pressure days, now knitting is my mental downtime. I don’t want to think much; I mostly just want to sit down with a good, solid pattern and move my fingers instead of my brain cells. And as a result, I’m learning. Learning, learning, learning.

I’ve always believed that a good pattern is the best teacher you can ask for. And as I’ve noted before, I read tons and tons of patterns — way more than I could ever knit. Have knitted hundreds of things in my head that would take years to knit with my fingers. And of course what you discover when you knit from a lot of different sources is that everyone has different ways of doing things — little details like what to do with a selvedge stitch, or how to make a more invisible increase or manage the change in volume from ribbing to stockinette. And those details are so enlightening! So I hope I’ll always read and knit from other people’s patterns, no matter how adept I might become at making my own. Plus geez, there are so many brilliant patterns in the world, and people who’ve done all the swatching and thinking and math to bring them into existence. Why not benefit from that? Especially when they charge only a few dollars for all of that creativity and hard work.

So I’m a proponent of both, but I want to know about you: Do you knit from patterns?

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QUICK SHOP NOTE: the dreamy cable needles and killer canvas-and-leather bags are back in stock.

Q for You: How do you sort your stash?

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Q for You: How do you sort your stash?

I’m on my way to the yarn trade show in San Diego today (it’s a safe bet there will be Instagrams), but am leaving you with a Q and will be reading your responses at every opportunity. This Q came from Colleen in the comments recently, and it’s one of those where I’m sure people will have not only different opinions but delightfully idiosyncratic logic. Which I love. The question is: Do you sort your stash by weight or color?

The question assumes you have more yarn than will fit in a single allotted container. Mine is kept in 4 see-through plastic bins on a shelf in my laundry closet, and it is divided by weight. The first bin is my paltry stash of lace and fingering weight yarns along with some sport weight. Next is DK and lighter worsteds. Then heavier worsted and aran. Then last is the bulky and superbulky bin. Honestly, there’s more color in there than you might imagine. (Yellows and oranges and even some hot pink, oh my!) But when I go looking for yarn it’s because I want to knit a specific thing, which is defined by the idea or the pattern, not by the color. In other words, I don’t go looking for green or camel; I go looking for worsted or bulky. If the starting point is a specific yarn rather than a pattern, I presumably know what the weight of that yarn is, and thus where to find it.

(Unless it’s in my alternate special stash, where I keep sweater quantities and things yarn companies have sent me, which is all different weights and colors sharing a shelf. “It’ll be anarchy: cats and dogs living together.”)

So let’s hear it: Do you sort your stash and, if so, is it by weight, color, company, fiber, or what?

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SHOP NOTE: The black scissors, natural baskets, a few patterned baskets and the large slate Bento Bag are all back in stock!

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PREVIOUSLY in Q for You: What’s your peak knitting experience?

Q for You: What’s your peak knitting experience?

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Perfect cable hat

It occurs to me that there are countless possible notions of what makes for a peak knitting experience. Maybe it’s pulling off something you didn’t think you were capable of. Maybe it’s the anticipation of a gift recipient’s response. Or maybe it’s making a thing that proves to be endlessly comforting or useful to you or a loved one. For me, it’s this hat, which is what got me thinking about the question.

There’s no doubt it’s a spectacularly beautiful hat — am I right? But more to the point, this was a case of all of the parts working in perfect harmony. The cable chart was fun, simple and easily absorbed, but with magnificent results. My beloved Dreamz needles — hard and pointy but still with the warmth of wood — were never better suited to the job. And I think it’s safe to say this undyed Worsted Twist (sent to me by Purl Soho) is the single most spectacular skein of yarn I have had the pleasure of knitting with. I’m not such a fan of what I think of as “the marshmallow yarns”; I prefer my yarn to retain some of its original sheepiness. But this yarn is, for me, right at the sweet spot on the continuum between soft and structured. I called it “well-behaved” before and I can’t come up with a better description than that — especially after having cabled with it. I feared it would be too soft to hold a cable well — and certainly these are not as crisply sculpted as they would be with a crunchier yarn, like the Shelter the pattern was written for — but the plumpness of the yarn and uniformity of the plies make it surprisingly great for cables. These look like frosting. (Or as Eva Kolenko noted on Instagram, ramen.) For the sake of learning something new, I also knitted this without a cable needle — using Grumperina’s tutorial — and again, the needles and yarn couldn’t have performed better: I wouldn’t have wanted to be doing that with blunter needles or a more slippery or splitty yarn. And it doesn’t hurt that, in this color and yarn, this is basically the aran sweater I’ve always dreamed of, but without all the pesky sweater-making business. (I kid!) Did I make mistakes? Yes. Did I enjoy fixing them? Yes! Truly, the whole thing was just bliss from start to finish.

So here’s my Q for You: What’s your peak knitting experience? I’d like to know how you would define that, and also to hear the details of your all-time best experiences.

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p.s. I should note that I haven’t blocked the hat yet. I finished it Wednesday night and wanted to take a pre-blocking photo, so held off on soaking it. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

p.p.s. The pattern is Gentian from Brooklyn Tweed and I highly recommend it. The attention to detail with regard to the placement of the ribbing and increases, such that everything flows perfectly into the cables, is commendable. But I feel bad for anyone who reads “Begin 2×2 ribbing (See Stitch Patterns)” and doesn’t turn the page to see that you need to begin with p2, not k2. Also, the pattern calls for 1 skein — 160 yards — of Shelter. The Worsted Twist is 164 yards, and I knitted the last stitch with literally an inch and a half of yarn left. I had to splice on another undyed worsted to cinch it closed. So even if you’re using the pattern yarn, be prepared that you might need 8 inches more than 1 skein. Or you could knit one less round of ribbing to be safe.

p.p.p.s. Added to Ravelry.

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PREVIOUSLY in Q for You: What are your favorite knitting pattern books?

Q for You: What are your favorite knitting pattern books?

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Best knitting pattern books

This Q for You comes from rachelalise in the comments, who is looking for recommendations on the best knitting pattern books:

I have an (unrelated) question for you and your most wise readers as I work out my Christmas list: do you have any favorite pattern *books* that a knitter should own? I realize that I almost exclusively knit from online patterns purchased one-off, and I’d love to build a collection of books that I can return to that contain patterns. (I have a good set of what I guess I’d term “technique books,” and all the most wonderful EZ books, but nothing else that is exclusively dedicated to patterns.)

I’m rather in the same boat and share her curiosity. For me, in my admittedly narrow experience, there aren’t a lot of books that have enough good patterns in them to warrant the cover price. So I have only invested in a few. Here are the ones I’m happiest to have bought, in no particular order:

1. “The Knitter’s Book of Wool” by Clara Parkes. Not “exclusively dedicated to patterns” — it’s about half education and half patterns, but both halves are well worth owning. (I believe the same is true of her “Knitter’s Book of Yarn,” but I loaned it to someone and never got it back, so can’t say for sure.)

2. “More Last-Minute Knitted Gifts” by Joelle Hoverson is the book that made me a knitter, and it is just wall to wall with excellent patterns.

3. Pom Pom Quarterly is like a really good pattern book that happens to be sold in installments.

4. Pioneer by Martin Storey. They may be classified and sold as periodicals, but the one-off editions of Rowan are actually slender, beautifully produced, paperback books. This volume (which I originally raved about here) contains more patterns I want to knit than any other bound object on my shelf.

5. “Knitting by Design” by Emma Robertson. Just published a few weeks ago, and I haven’t had a lot of time to spend with it. It’s very young and bright and funky, not designed or photographed like any other knitting book out there, but contains several wildly adaptable patterns. E.g., a knitted tank sweater happens to be white and dip-dyed, but you could make that tank a million different things by changing the yarn/color, dyeing it or not, etc. Same with the colorblock mittens, the adorable vest, etc.

6–8. “Knit One Knit All,” “Knitter’s Almanac” and “Knitting Without Tears” by Elizabeth Zimmermann. It takes a little imagination to see how some of EZ’s garments and accessories can look modern, but they can. I did a riff on this in Street styling Elizabeth Zimmermann (a year ago today! how weird), but just look at Abigail Chapin in her light grey Icelandic Overblouse (from Knit One Knit All), which is just like EZ’s original and looks perfectly current.

Those are the ones I’m most likely to knit from, although when it comes time to browse patterns, I do turn to my PDFs. I’ll also mention that one book I really want but don’t own yet is “Fair Isle Style” by Mary Jane Mucklestone. So let’s hear it, please: What are your favorite knitting pattern books?

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PREVIOUSLY in Q for You: How do you join a new ball of yarn?

Q for You: How do you join a new ball of yarn?

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How to join a new ball of yarn when knitting

I have to tell you, I thought it was really funny that How do you weave in your ends was — by far — the quietest Q for You to date. The only Q that could even be described as quiet. Apparently everyone hates weaving in ends so much you don’t even want to talk about it! I had noted that the next Q was very closely related to that one, and it’s natural that it factored into some people’s responses, since it’s actually difficult to talk about one without talking about the other. That question is: How do you join a new ball of yarn?

Unless you always knit one-skein projects, or use yarn that comes in hanks as big as your head, sooner or later you have to learn to join a new ball of yarn to a work in progress. And there are nearly as many methods as there are knitters. My first time, I googled, and the consensus seemed to be to just drop the old yarn (leaving a long enough tail), start knitting with the new yarn, and weave both tails in later. In the two years since, I’ve picked up tips, watched videos and tried assorted other methods:

– Holding both yarns together for a few stitches
– Tying a half-square knot (don’t tell the no-knot purists!)
– Weaving as you go
– The Russian join (never actually tried this)
– Magic knot (nor this)

But for the past year, I’ve been a devotee of the Spit Splice. I loosen the plies at each end, as shown in that link, but I also tear off about two inches of one ply on each of the ends, to reduce the total number of plies being spliced together. Overlap the ends for two inches, spit (yep!), and rub together until they felt into one beautiful strand. This method only works with yarn that will felt — so 100% wool (not superwash), and the more rustic the better. Those happen to be my favorite kinds of yarns, so it works out well for me. I love this method because it’s truly invisible, it’s quick and easy, and it leaves zero ends to weave in later. (The only downside is if you’re on a plane while doing it — it does raise a neighbor’s eyebrows.) If I happen to be working with a yarn that won’t splice, I just revert to dropping the old end and picking up the new one.

So how about you: What’s your method of choice?

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PREVIOUSLY in Q for You: How do you weave in your ends

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p.s. The large linen Bento Bag is now available in a beautiful shade of dark-chambray blue.

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Q for You: How do you weave in your ends?

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Muckle Mitts knitted by karentempler

OK, so fair-isle knitting is an extreme example to use as the art for this Q for You, but I also really want to show you how my first colorwork project turned out! (Am I awesome or what? They’re Muckle Mitts, and the yarn is that Kenzie that Skacel sent me, and here they are on Ravelry. I love these from top to bottom.) But for real, the Q is: How do you weave in your ends?

(This is obviously another good one for the Beginning to Knit page, and I have a closely related one coming up next time.)

Like most things with knitting, everyone has a different favorite method, or a new one every month, or the answer is “It depends.” For me, the perfect project, in this context, is anything that starts and ends with ribbing and has no other loose tails in between! That’s because any time I’ve got a tail at the edge of some ribbing, I just run it down one side of a stack of knit stitches on the wrong side, then back up the other side of those same stitches. (Pictured below.) Give a tug to even out the tension, and snip! Done. I have no idea if this is an officially sanctioned method — I’ve just always done it, and it is so so simple. But if there’s no ribbing or seam to hide the ends in, I either use the duplicate stitch method or, if it’s a reasonably sticky yarn, I just weave them in a couple of zigzagging lines through the purl bumps on the wrong side. What about you?

How to weave in ends in ribbing

PREVIOUSLY in Q for You: Do you prefer your patterns written or charted?

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