In counterpoint to the last post – here’s Smaller Daughter, armed with round shield, spear, sword and helm of her own manufacture.

In fact, yesterday her class, armed with similar tin-foil weapons, pillaged the fourth grade and selected offices in her elementary school. She got extra credit for trying to capture the principal.

To explain – her fifth grade class is finishing up a world history unit on the viking era of exploration and conquest. They’ve done famous leaders, history, migrations and settlement, culture, literature, technology and crafts. They played with spinning, sprang, kennings, navigation, sagas, and allthings; and finished up by staging their own raid on the rest of the school. They didn’t really burn or steal anything, instead they mostly ran around shaking their weapons and shouting, held some stuffed animals hostage, seized some pre-arranged “treasure”, tossed some papers around and had general kid-amok fun. No actual fourth-graders were harmed.

I was impressed that the unit mentioned sprang, but it turns out that Smaller Daughter’s teacher is a knitter. I should have known.

Technorati : knitting

Sometimes the materials speak:

On the knitting front, I’ve been totally consumed again at work. I’ve managed to do a couple more rows of the spiderweb section on my olive green tablecloth, and a little bit more on the OpArt blanket – but not much of either.

I’ve also received a special request for an unusual baby hat, the amazing flood of co-worker fecundity continuing unabated. I am contemplating either the now classic Chicken Viking Hat or the Baby Squid Hat, although I am open to suggestions of other similarly absurd headgear.

Technorati : knitting

Progress on all fronts, but slow progress here. My green tablecloth continues to grow, at the glacial pace of of four rounds per week due to the massive number of stitches per round. I’ve got two projects in the noodling stage, things that give me ample daydreaming fodder for my commute. One is a rescue of glorious fall foliage color hand-painted yarn from a project long consigned to my Chest of Knitting Horrors. The other is the long patterned stockings inspired by the fashion clip I posted two weeks ago.

I don’t know how other people design things, but my own processes are more like back burner simmering than line cook production. But this can happen in one of two ways.

The first is more project-centric. An idea occurs, I chew on it a while, running through mental CADD rotations to visualize it in three dimensions. Sometimes an idea dies during this process. Some factor (or more usually, reality) makes me realize that the thing can’t be knit or would not have a high probability of success. Other times all things fall into place. I see the finished product, the materials and techniques required, and have worked out all but the final math and gauge long before I pick up the needles. I do this think-work mostly during my commute back and forth to work, and its one of those insidious things that I have to fight off during long, boring meetings. I’d say about half of my projects start this way, and tend to finish almost all of them.

The second is more yarn-centric. If I have a particular yarn in hand the process works a bit differently. It moves out of the think stage very quickly, and often with only the vaguest of notions on how to proceed. In this case I get the yarn on the needles and begin to play. That’s how the Kureopatora’s Snake happened. I stumbled across a couple of left over skeins of the stuff and my magpie color sense was rekindled. I needed a scarf to give as a gift and the yarn’s colors held me in thrall, so I sat down and played. It took me half a movie’s worth of fiddling to get started, but the thing shaped up quickly after that. I ended up ripping out my beginning and starting a second time so I could write down what I had been doing before I forgot.

Something similar happened when I did my old See Saw Socks pattern. Regia Ringel was new then, and not widely distributed. I ran across a couple of skeins in a discount bin at the old Women’s Industrial Union crafts shop downtown in Boston (now long gone). The shop person lamented that the colors were nice, but no one was buying this splotchy stuff. Now stripers are understood and appreciated but back then, there being no knit samples or on-line pix of the finished product, the piebald skeins were a hard sell. I started the toe-ups and was delighted by the striping, but didn’t want to make a boring-to-knit all stockinette ankle. So having determined the depth of each stripe (more or less) I began to play with various directionally skewed designs that worked into my stitch count and that row count. And serendipity hit:

Please don’t ask me for the pattern. I sold the original pattern and all reprint rights for See Saw to KnitNet. They’ve subsequently featured it twice in their newsletter. If you want it, you’ll have to go through them.

While the remaining half of my projects do begin with the yarn instead of the extended think session, it’s worth noting that my most spectacular failures and most happy successes all came from this method. The sobering note is that failures that began with the yarn instead of the planning do outnumber the successes, and most of my Chest of Knitting Horrors residents were yarn-inspired.

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I took the kids today out on one of our now traditional Spring jaunts – the Gore Place Sheep Shearing Festival in Waltham, Massachusetts. We’ve been there most years since we moved here in 1996, missing only a couple of the rainiest days.

This year I am of mixed feelings about the day. To be fair, there are far more activities and displays now than there ever were. The festival has grown quite a bit over the years. They’ve added a magic show, expanded the food offerings, added more animal exhibits (oxen, chickens, sheep, goats, vicunas); they’ve added an equestrian demonstration, and now feature a Revolutionary War era re-enactment bivouac. The day is full of things to see and do. Attendance is way up, especially among those with kids under the age of 10. But sadly what fiber arts focus there was in the past appears to be on the way out.

Sheep are still being shorn, both with mechanical clippers and hand-operated snips. The family that does the sheepdog demonstrations still does its fascinating display. The lacemakers are still there, working their exacting way through spectacular pillow lace patterns. There are some beautiful vicunas on display, and one fiber-related exhibit tent remains. Four out of six slots were filled in the fiber tent. One was local shop stalwart Minds Eye Yarns. It was an excellent booth, filled with lots of yarn, but most of it was commercial product that I can buy in the shop itself, or in my local yarn store. Minds Eye did have a display of their own hand-dyed – mostly sock and worsted weight. Bartlett Yarns also had stock of their rustic Maine style worsteds and heavy worsteds. There were two other yarn vendors there, too. One selling rovings and combed/dyed fleeces, and one selling spun hand-dyed worsted.

There were a couple of other yarn sellers scattered through the crafts fair and historical display areas. One was a vendor offering reclaimed cashmere yarn – she buys discarded sweaters, unravels them, washes the yardage, and plies it into sock and DK weight. Interesting but short yardage, and I would have preferred non-pastels, and something that was lace weight. The other two were hand spinners offering a variety of their own products. One was nice enough but in short quantity and plied to worsted weight. The other had mostly yarns whose unevenness, color combos, and overtwist plying were appealing to some, but left me cold.

I miss the booths of some of the other smaller producers – Moorehouse Merinos, Nicks Meadow Farm, and several other concerns that have offered beautiful hand-spun or dyed sport weight and finer yarns. I also missed the fiber/textile facts tent sponsored in previous years by the Boston Area Spinners and Dyers Guild. That one had hands-on activities for the kids, and was something they looked forward to, too.

Maybe the early date of the event posed problems for the Guild and the other fiber tent regulars. It’s usually around mid-May. Maybe for the small suppliers the cost of attending wasn’t covered by income earned at previous events, or travel expense is prohibitive given current gas prices. Who knows… But I can say that this is the first year I tried hard to find something interesting, preferably unique but well made, in a color that sang to me, and came up with nothing.

Yes, it’s true. I came home from fiber festival without a single bit of yarn.

Technorati : knitting