Continuing in my frugal and stashbusting ways (ha), I dove back into my tar pit of yarn to find another unfinished object I could rescue from the slough of despond.
I’ll say it again: this unfinished object concept is VERY STRONG, y’all. You may think that your castaway, deeply unfinished sweater totally and completely sucks, but remember: at some point, you were all excited to be starting it. It was COOL. There was some mojo dragging you toward that project. The reason you stopped working on it likely had more to do with the allure of Project B than with an intrinsic problem with Project A. If you ditched Project A because of some crippling technical breakdown, it’s likely that at this point, you have forgotten how your soul was broken by it. Seriously! In these challenging times (and by the way, when were times NOT challenging? Have we ever had a non-challenging time? EVER?), an unfinished object provides you a jumpstart, a free pass, a drive from the ladies’ tees.
I unearthed the start of a project that I never even got around to blogging, moldering away behind a sizeable collection of rag balls. It was two rectangles knitted onto one needle, with some kind of shaping joined below. Huh? What was this thing? No wonder I ditched it!
Deeper in my closet, behind cowboy boots (the red ones) and a dress for a baby girl that I never sent to my niece (crap!), I found the rest of the yarn and pattern for this weird piece of knitting.
My old friend Rowan Felted Tweed! [Pauses to admire the current set of colorways I mean colourways. Look at 152 Watery. Sigh! Doesn’t that just say it all?]
The shade I’m using is a really great crunchy color. I can’t remember Rowan’s name for it, but we’ll call it Chaff. Or Hayseed. Or Dull. It has blue flecks and dark brown flecks. I really, really love this yarn. If you’ve never messed around with this stuff, you really need to. Merino/alpaca/viscose. Sort of felty.
The pattern is the Back Home in Vermont pullover, a pattern by Marjorie Moureau that appears in that most sheepy book, The Natural Knitter by the late Barbara Albright.
I think it’s the stitch pattern that got me het up about this one. It’s such a cool texture, the right twist stitch combined with ribs. It’s constructed in a clever way:
1 and 2. You knit the saddles as separate little rectangles.
3. Pick up stitches on one side of each saddle and knit the front yoke.
4. Pick up stitches on the other side of each saddle and knit the back yoke.
5. Pick up a sleeve, which is going to end up being a set-in sleeve at some distant point in its future.
And down it will go. Any knitter would love the way the cables on the saddles continue smoothly down the arm. And I’m glad I’ll be able to check the fit as I go, because I’m concerned that the sleeves are going to be kind of full.
This is proving to be the PERFECT knitting to accompany my obsession with Lost. Like the series, this knitting is surprisingly slow, what with all the back n forthing from knit to purl, and all the drama from good to evil. At this point David is much farther along in the series than I am, and I can’t even be in the same part of the house when he’s watching–every single scene is so spoilerish, if I hear a character’s voice, I know that he’s still alive! I’m not going to admit how much I’ve watched so far, but let’s just say that the Mama Cass Elliott’s “Make Your Own Kind of Music” is now the creepiest song I’ve ever heard.
Aw here you go, Lost fans–go freak yourselves out: