KNITTING TIP #1

problem:

when knitting in the round, almost every beginning knitter has experienced the frustration of a gap or "ladder" that forms between the first stitch and the last stitch of the cast-on row. it seems that no matter how tightly you snug up the working yarn between those two stitches, there's an annoying and unsightly little space where the first couple of rows join.

sure-fire fix:

1. make one more cast-on stitch than specified by the pattern
   
2. when arranging the cast-on stitches for working (whether on double points, circulars or for magic loop), transfer that extra stitch to the left-hand (sometimes referred to as the first) needle
3. begin the first round by knitting the transferred stitch and the first cast-on stitch together

wahla! no more gap!

OLD DOG LEARNS NEW TRICK

one of the things i love about knitting is that there is always something new to learn, even if you've been knitting for fifty years.


when casting on a project i've generally gone to that old standby, the long tail cast on. it's fast and easy, and moderately elastic for ribbed cuffs, hems and necklines, but i never really liked the look of that little ridge that forms along the edge of the garment. i tried other methods over the years but never found a suitable replacement method, and had just about decided that i'd have to live with it...until now!


the other day i stumbled on a tutorial for an awesome alternative - the tubular cast on. suitable for 1x1 or 2x2 ribbing, it lays flat and creates a lovely, finished-looking edge. here's a link to the tutorial:  tubular cast-on


hooray! don't you love new techniques? got one to share? i'd love to hear about it!


thanks for visiting. come again soon.

A KNITTING ICON GONE...

some of my finest knitting memories revolve around visiting inez's stitchery, just outside of washington, d.c., located for 50 years above a bank in the suburb of kensington, md. walking into inez's felt like walking into a knitters's cathedral filled with floor-to-ceiling stacks and bins of every fiber and gauge imaginable. arrays of vibrant color rivaled the stained glass of st. patricks in nyc, while the muted icelandic wools brought to mind the hues of a nordic winter. the musty smells of grandmas's attic and stored family treasures permeated the shop, taking me back to long childhood afternoons playing dress-up with the cousins, digging through bins and storage trunks for 40's era evening gowns and white lace gloves.


then there was inez. i first met inez in the mid-1980's, when a decline in the number of handcrafters forced the closure of my local yarn shop. she seemed old as the hills even then, a crusty old no-nonsense woman with her grey hair in a bun, wearing an ever present hand knit sweater. she was frequently accused of being short with customers, never one to suffer a pretentious fool, and often abrupt to the point of rudeness. definitely not the chatty, huggy-feely type you might expect to find running such an establishment. but i liked her. knitting wisdom and lore surrounded her stooped ancient self like the saintly aura of a byzantine iconic figure. for some unknown reason she was never short with me, maybe because i handled the yarns with due reverence, maybe because i took counsul with her seriously, maybe because she sensed that i was a serious student of the art. maybe because i was the only other tatter she'd run into in the last 20 years. who knows? but i loved being around her, discussing the merits of various types of needles, considering fiber combinations, fingering luxurious wools and silks. and i always learned something from her.


while searching online to see if inez ever put up a website (she hadn't) i came across an article in the washington post.  she passed away in the spring of last year, having suffered a stroke at the shop.  the store remains open, run now by a son and daughter. the sights and smells are the same, but inez's crusty "patron saint of knitting" presence has passed on. i strongly suspect that she stops by occasionally, hovering over newly arrived yarns and whispering in the ear of a customer now and then. i wonder if i will still feel her presence in the shop that was her life's work...i devoutly hope so.


farewell inez.