branching out scarf

I’ve been working on Branching Out on knitty.com. I found some Georges Picaud (remember him) mohair in my dated stash. It’s blocking right now with T-pins so I don’t have a photo of it yet. I think I’ll be focusing on scarves and lace work for the next while. I have many christmas gifts to knit this year and I love the look of elegant lacy scarves. I’ve done one of those eyelash yarn things that knit up in a day, and it’s nice, but I’m enjoying the challenge of lace.

Buttons are on!

I’ve added the buttons to my friend Frank’s baby’s jacket. Today is the shower, so now I’ve got to run find a gift box and get it ready.

Baby wool socks

Two of my co-workers will be having a baby in the next few days. I quickly knit up some baby socks with Austermann’s Step Sock Wool. I used the ‘whisky’ (colour 09) colourway. This yarn has aloevera in it, so your hands are soothed while you work with it. Of course, the colour changes don’t happen frequently enough for socks this size, but I like the quirky unmatching, but still coordinating look of them. The ankle ribbing has a small cable detail every other two-stitch ridge. If you click on the photo you’ll see a close up.

Pork Pie Hat

The hat is finished. It didn’t fit me, so my son claimed it as his. This was a cinch to crochet up and didn’t take long at all. The firmness of the cotton and the tighter gauge makes the hat hold up well.

Crocheted Hat

I’m trying my hand at crocheting, too, after so many years. I can’t believe how stiff my fingers get, I’m all tense to the point where my left hand is tingling. I’m working on the relaxation bit. This is the Pork Pie hat from Knit.1 There are a number of errors in the directions. I’m sending them my observations so they can include them on their errata page.

Close up

This is a detail of the little jacket I made for a friend’s soon to be born baby. It’s an 18 mo. size so that it can be worn next spring and fall and even longer. Just at the midriff, I switched from garter to rizotto stitch. I had to go up a needle size and increase 8 sts. evenly across before I started the pattern because it pulled in, and if I did it again, I would increase 12 stitches evenly across the body. There’s still a little pit of pull, but it looks like a cinched waist, without the belt, so I left it in. For rizotto stitch (next time I’ll try this with a thin yarn on needles two sizes larger than the recommended size) you need an even number of stitches plus an extra stitch on each side for selvage. Rows 1, 3, 5: slip the first stitch (selvage) purlwise; knit across Row 2: Slip the first stitch, *p 2 tog, then without letting them fall from the left needle, k tog the same 2 sts (until one from end)*; k last stitch. Row 4: Slip the first stitch, p 1, *p 2 tog, then without letting them fall from the left needle, k tog the same 2 sts (until two from end)*; purl 1, k last stitch. Row 6: repeat from row 2.

Frank's baby's sweater and accessories

Frank’s baby’s sweater.
Originally uploaded by Jigra Knits.

This is another project I’ve been working on recently. The sweater is primarily garter stitch, but there is a modified moss stich just below the armpits. I have yet to attach buttons onto it, but will soon. I made the pattern up and chose these bright colours. The back is entirely yellow. Of course I had more scraps than I knew what to do with so there are some slippers and a toque is on the needles; naturally I’m going to work some fairisle into it. I doubt all these items will be worn simultaneously (It’s a gift for a friend), but I don’t have any use for this colourway myself, so I thought I’d use up the scraps as quickly as possible.

Project on the go.

Well, when I approached my stash, which had regrettably stayed hidden for 9 years or so, I found several started projects, some of which weren’t worth finishing and others, well, let’s say I don’t want to tackle them quite yet. So what did I do? I went to my LYS and browsed for a new yarn that I had never seen and for a project I had never tried. Result…Red Heart’s Amore and a hankerin to make a shawl for my DW. I looked at some patterns and found nothing but crochet for Amore, so I went back to my knitting patterns dictionary and found a simple lattice ladder stitch. I’ve just finished the first skein and this is what I’ve accomplished so far:

The color is light thyme and I don’t know what the final dimensions are going to be.
It’s light and fluffy, but warm all the same, because the yarn collapses into a snuggling blanket when relaxed and drapes out nicely when worn.

What is Jigra? ¿Qué es Jigra?

Another knitting blog, another male knitter.I’ve been a knitter for 30 years, with a recent hiatus of about 7 years with the exception of a few hats and mittens. But I’m back into a serious swing of things.Having always been interested in creating anything with my hands, I started young, at 4, in fiber arts, mostly embroidery and crocheting, but at 11, I picked up knitting. I had a teacher who knit constantly from the front of the class while teaching, except when she used the chalkboard. Seeing those scarves, socks, sweaters, etc flow from her needle every day was too much to bear. I worked up the nerve by Thanksgiving to ask for a lesson. My first project was a sweatband with matching wristbands. It was the 70s! My friends wanted me to make some for them, but instead I soon had an all-boy knitting club (NO girls allowed) of 8 or 9.Another inspiration for learning to knit and keeping it going were the indigenous peoples of the province of Cauca and Huila in Colombia, descendants of Chibcha tribes. I grew up in Colombia and visited this region several times. I saw many beautiful ponchos and garments of brighly coloured and dashingly patterned wool. The men and women both tend the sheep and spin and knit and I was enraptured, to say the least. Infants are touted about in knit or woven bags called jigras. A few years ago, I was pondering on the amount of contact between parent and child this jigra set up provides and it inspired a poem.

Otro blog, otro hombre que teje.He tejido malla (punta) por 27 años, pero con un periodo inactivo de 7 años recientemente. Apenas este año empecé a tejer guantes, mitines, y calcetines y gorros de nuevo. Ahora estoy listo a tejer con mayor dedicación.Siempre he tenido el interés de crear cosas con las manos. Comencé joven, de 4 años, en las artes textiles, bordando y haciendo crochet, pero de 11 años aprendí a tejer malla. Tenía una profesora que tejia constantemente aún cuando enseñaba en frente de nosotros, soltaba sus agujas solamente para escribir con tiza en la pizarra. Me quedaba asombrado al ver esas bufandas, calcetines, y sueteres alborotarse de sus agujas cada dia. Para noviembre de ese año le pedí una lección. Mi primer proyecto fue una banda para absorber sudor de la cara, con muñequeras (de tenis) coordinadas. Era la decada de los sesenta y estaban de moda. Mis amigos querían que les hiciera unas para ellos, pero insití que aprendieran a tejer ellos mismos. Muy pronto habiamos formado un club para barones exclusivamente con 8 o 9 miembros.Otra inspiración que mantuvo mi interés en tejer fueron la gente indígena de los departamentos de Cauca y Huila (en Colombia), decendientes de los pueblos Chibca. Me crié en Colombia y visitabamos esta región de vez en cuando. Ví muchos ponchos y rohanas de lana super brillantes y coloridos con patrones extraordinarios. Me parecia que los hombres tanto como las mujeres tendian a las ovejas, hilaban la lana y tejian y me quede como adicto. Muchas de los infantes los llevaban en bolsitas llamadas ‘jigras’. Hace algunos años estuve pensando sobre el contacto entre padre e hijo y como una jigra promueve esta cercanía y fui inspirado a escribir un poema. Lo escribí en inglés inicialmente y no sé como me sale la traducción, pero aquí va!

La Jigra*

The mists rise out of the valley to the midriff of the mountains. The dawn is cool, dull and long; the sun not finding a prairie horizon. Blue Light blinks into this cocoon; Shifting folds of cloth tease the glow that wants to peek in. Whose breath do I hear, catch its warmth an instant on my face my nostrils, it’s woodsy staleness? That other distant pungent, acrid scent, What is it? Those other muted cries and pattering, what are they? I sway side to side, restricted on the return by a soft but firm chest. My arms are tight at my sides. But I nudge them free to reach up. My fingers brush a chin and warm lips catch them, squeezing gently. Smiling eyes peer in and gaze, lock and free. A bark interrupts us A sudden move, gravity holds me only for a moment. We’re up and I sway more roughly. Where are we going? We stop. That bleating, once muted and sporatic is constant now. The ground vibrates lightly, letting out sounds of sucking mud and tumbling pebbles. A new voice speaks out. All of me feels its force. The barking ceases. Soon, a quiet hush returns over the other ones I sense are out, there. I’m bound to this shepherd, my parent. Some times my mother, others my father, their dark grey felt hats and ponchos saturated with the scent of lanolin. Sometimes I taste it on my lips, musty yet sweet. Music now, air rushing over bamboo pipes create a rocking movement to my space as the player elbows me back and forth. Other sounds join, rythmic layers flow and mesh. A steady beat plays clapping games with smaller taps and brushings. I return to sleep as the music fades in my ears. Quiet. Peace. Security, closeness, comfort, joy. Clarity, ease, freedom, wisdom, love. My heart is full of these. *(HEE-grah); the sling used by Guambino Indians (Colombia) to carry their babies.

La neblina amanece en el valle Las montaías se adornan con ella. El amanecer está frio, gris y demorado. El sol no encuentra un horizonte llanero. Luz Azul parpadea adentro de este capullo. Plieges de tela se mueven, burlandose del brillo que quiere asomarse. ¿De quién es ese aliento que escucho? Brevemente siento su calor en mi rostro. Con mis narices capto un olor leñoso, antiguo, ¿Qué es? Y ese otro perfume, acre y fuerte, ¿qué es? Oigo balidos sordos y pasos, ¿qué son? Acuno de lado a lado. De regreso me doy contra un pecho Dulce pero firme. Mis brazos quedan apredaditos, pero inquieto los libero para alcanzar. Mis dedos rozan una barbilla, y labios calidos los atrapan, apretanto ligeramente. Veo ojos sonrientes que se asoman, se fijan, y liberan Un ladrido nos interrumpe. Un movimento repentino, me sostiene la gravedad, por un momento nada mas. Nos levantamos y me tambaleo. ¿A dónde nos vamos? Nos detenemos. Ese balido, antes callado y suelto ahora es constante. Vibra la tierra sutilmente soltando sonidos de lodo chupando y piedritas de volteretas. Una voz nueva suena. Todo mi ser siente su fuerza. Los ladridos cesen. Pronto, una calma regreza y captura a los otros que siento que estéán ahí, afuera. Estoy atado a este pastor, mi padre. A veces mi mamá, a veces mi papá, Sus sombreros de fieltro gris, y ponchos saturados con el perfume de lanolina. De vez en cuando lo siento en mis labios, Rancio pero dulce. Música, aire bailando sobre flautas de bambú. Mi espacio se mueve, acunando mientras El flautista me da codazos livianos. Otros sonidos se unen, pliegos de melodias y ritmos fluen y se enredan como hilos. Un compás regular crea juegitos de aplausos con toquesitos y rocesitos. Regreso al sue¿ño y la música desvanece en mis oidos. La calma, la paz. La seguridad, la cercanía, el consuelo, el gozo. La claridad, la tranquilidad, la liberdad, la sabiduria, el amor, De estos está repleto mi corazón.