Special Thanks to:
Frankie Brown, who uses his talent for designing knitwear to raise money for charities for children in the UK. To see Frankie Brown’s fund-raising page and learn more, go to www.justgiving.com/frankiesknittedstuff.
To Lindsay Woodruff for her spot-on photographs.
To the many independent yarn shops which supply us with advice, encouragement, and the stuff of our dreams. Buy local, as I do at the outstanding Knitters Edge in Bethlehem, Pa.
Mr. Wicks, Hand Model and In-House Muse.
Copyright © 2014 by Elvira Woodruff
Photos copyright © of author unless otherwise noted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Skyhorse Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
ISBN: 978-1-62914-211-1
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62914-304-0
Printed in China
For Jen, who keeps our family
knit together.
DEAR MRS. WICKS,
My boyfriend says that my passion for knitting is stronger than my passion for him. I hate to admit this but if we broke-up, I think I could go on, but I can’t even imagine my life without my knitting. Will I feel like this about all men and yarn?
Sincerely,
Passionate for Fiber in Florida
DEAR PASSIONATE,
I suggest we turn to an expert in the passion department, and see what Lord Byron has to say on the subject of love.
“In her first passion, a woman loves her lover;
in all the others all she loves is love.”
Lord Byron (1788–1824)
Oh dear, I honestly do not think our boy, Byron, was feeling the love when he wrote those words (this is what comes of over-sampling love). However, what he has described quite perfectly is a knitter’s passion.
A new knitter may be in love with one yarn, one pattern, or one project. But this soon gives way to an all-encompassing love of all knitting. Unfortunately, this love can be so strong, it can overcome one’s reason. A short cautionary tale on the subject follows:
Oh, No! Not Another Tea Cosy!!!
My sister loves to drink tea, so of course, when I stumbled on a pattern for a tea cosy, she came to mind (an innocent little foray, or so I thought). I’d try one in a snappy blue worsted. It was a quick and easy knit. Her teapot looked so natty now dressed in wool, I found myself yearning to make another. Why not try one in an emerald green merino? Next, there came a dusty rose in DK, after which I whipped up a wooly white alpaca beauty. Surely, she would love one for every day of the week!
Oh, no! Not another tea cosy!
I thought the seventh in the series was by far the standout in a fuzzy coral wool-silk blend. But when I delivered it to my sister, her face fell. I had the sudden, sinking realization that my passion had overtaken my reason. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. I could read it in her pleading eyes.
A HOLIDAY TEA COSY
Let’s Begin!
This is a pattern by the talented designer, Frankie Brown, called Mistake Rib Tea Cosy. I simply added a lid with leaves and some lace for the holidays. (Frankie Brown was kind enough to point out to me that while in America it is spelled tea cozy, in England, where the first tea cozy was probably invented, it is spelled tea cosy. I defer to those English tea drinkers of old).
By varying the size of the needles and yarn used, this simple tea cosy can be knit to fit two sizes of teapots. Use worsted weight for a three-cup (one pint) teapot and bulky for a six-cup (two pint) pot.
Materials: Either 30 grams worsted weight or 40 grams aran (in red). Needles US size 7 or US size 5.
Method
Make two identical pieces, one for each side. Using the long tail method for flexibility, cast on 31 sts. Work two rows in mistake rib as follows:
Every Row: P2, K2 to last 3 sts. P2, K1
K1M1 increase in the first stitch of the next 4 rows, taking the new stitches into the pattern as set. You should now have 35 sts and the mistake rib will have settled down to a normal: K2, P2 to last 3 sts, K2, P1. 4t. P the last stitch.
Work 30 more rows in this pattern. To shape the top a certain amount of blind following is required.
Row 1: (K2, P2, K1, P2tog, P1) 4 times, K2, P1. (31 sts.)
Row 2: (K2, P2, K1, P2) 4 times, K2, P1.
Row 3: (K2, P2, K2, P2 tog.) 4 times, K2, P1. (27 sts.)
Row 4: K2, P1, K1, P2) 4 times, K2, P1.
Row 5: (K2, P2, K2 tog) 4 times, K2 P1. (23 sts.)
Row 6: (K2 P3) 4 t. K2, P1.
Row 7: K2 (P2, K2 tog, K1) 4 times, P1. (19 sts.)
Row 8: K2, P2, to last 3 sts. K2, P1.
Row 9: (K2 P2 tog) 4 times, K2 P1. (15 sts.)
Row 10: (K2, P1) across row.
Row 11: (K1, P2 tog) across row. (10 sts.)
Row 12: K1, P1 across row.
Cast off loosely in rib.
Note: For a tea cosy that leaves the lid uncovered cast off after Row 2.
Sew the two pieces together, leaving holes for the spout and handle.
It’s probably easier to try the cosy on the pot as you do this but, if you don’t happen to have your teapot at hand, try the following measurements.
For a smaller size: Sew up 1 inch below the handle and 2 inches above it.
Sew up ¾ inch below the spout and 2 ½ inches above it.
For the bigger size: Sew up ¼ inch below the handle and 2 ½ inches above it.
Sew 1 inch below the spout and 4 inches above it.
Knit enough I-cord to wrap around teapot and sew into circles at the ends.
Abbreviations:
K Knit
P Purl
St Stitch
Sts Stitches
K2tog Knit 2 together
P2tog Purl 2 together
For the Lid
Small amount of Fingering weight, white for lace trim
US size 2 needles
Cast on 5 sts.
Row 1: Slip 1, K4
Row 2: Slip 1, K4
Row 3: Slip 1, K1, K1 in front and back, 3 times
Row 4: Bind off 3 sts. K to end . . . 5 sts.
Continue until you have enough trim to go around the top of cosy.
Sew lace on, stretching to fit.
For the lid: Using size 5 double-pointed needles, cast on 6 sts.
Join and k for 12 rows.
K1FB in each stitch to end.
K10 rows.
P2 rows.
K1 row.
Cast off loosely.
Add knitted leaf or flower to the top of the lid if desired.
DEAR MRS. WICKS,
I love to knit. I also love to write poetry. My favorite poet is Emily Dickinson. Do you know if Emily was a knitter?
> Sincerely,
Poet with Needles in Michigan
DEAR POET,
I believe that Emily did know a thing or two about knitting.
“I dwell in possibility.” Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)
This feeling of dwelling in possibility is key to all knitters. I once began a sock that morphed into a mitten that ended up living out its days as a tea cosy. Each time we pick up our needles and yarn, we marry our certainty of known stitches to the uncertainty of a new patterns, textures, and colors.
The craft of knitting comes with no guarantees. Instead, we delight in the surprise of not knowing how things will turn out. We delight in possibility. You would be surprised just how warm a would-be sock can keep your tea.
It is fitting that Emily left us proof of her knitting, not in yarn, but in words. This excerpt is from a letter she wrote to her cousin, Louise Norcross, early in 1865 in which she said,
For the first few weeks I did nothing but comfort my plants, till now their small green cheers are covered in smiles. I chop the chicken centers when we have roast fowl, frequent now, for the hens contend and the Cain is slain . . . Then I make the yellow to the pies, and hand the spice for cake, and knit the soles to the stockings I knit the bodies to last June. They say I am a ‘help.’ Partly because it is true I suppose and the rest is applause . . .
She also mentioned knitting in her poem “Autumn—overlooked my knitting.” Surely, Emily was a knitter at heart, stitching in words when not in wool.
DEAR MRS. WICKS,
Why does it always take me weeks before I will admit that something I’ve knit for myself looks terrible on me? And why did I ever imagine it looked so good in the first place?
Sincerely,
Deluded in Michigan
DEAR DELUDED
You are not alone in your delusions of grandeur. History is full of such people and some in quite powerful places.
Sometimes knitters can be so besotted with a particular yarn or pattern that all reason leaves them. The more complicated and time-consuming the project, the more they’ll tend to unhinge from reality.
When this happens, I find myself wearing things I would never dream of wearing, if I hadn’t made them myself. Deep down I know it’s a horror show, but after all those hours of work, I cannot admit defeat. This is a chronic condition that many knitters succumb to known as I-Don’t-Care-What-It-Looks-Like-After-All-of-That-Work-I’m-Wearing-It-Anyway Syndrome.
“It’s not too much is it?”
(Referring to her hair)
Marie Antoinette 1755–1793
I once knit a red-scarf that took me what seemed like half a lifetime to finish because of its complicated pattern. When completed, it looked like a cross between an Elizabethian collar and a super hero cape. Still, I stubbornly wore it for weeks. My sister finally brought me to my senses when I dropped by her house one day sans the scarf.
“Oh thank God, you’ve stopped wearing that thing,” she said.
“What thing?”
“That red Christmas tree skirt you’ve been wearing around your neck,” she said. “You know it looked bad, right?”
“Right.”
Sometimes it takes a loved one to tell you when too much really is too much. I still haven’t summoned the courage to rip the scarf out. But when I do I’ll use the yarn to knit something nice for my sister, perhaps a tea cosy. She could use one in red.
DEAR MRS. WICKS,
What is it about knitting for babies that makes me go weak in the knees? I can’t seem to get excited about knitting for grown-ups. My husband has been scarf-less for over a year, yet I’ve outfitted the baby next door in enough hand-knits to make a sheep blush. Help!
Sincerely,
Bonkers for Babies in Oregon
DEAR BONKERS,
It sounds as if you need professional help with this addiction. I would offer to take you to a meeting myself, but I’m too busy knitting up a baby blanket for an unborn child whose parents I have yet to meet.
“I don’t dislike babies, though I think very young ones rather disgusting.”
Queen Victoria (1819–1901)
There is no mention of her Majesty knitting for any of her own nine babies. Could they have really been all that disgusting? Or was she just too busy ruling her empire? We don’t know, but we do know that she did some needlework in her youth and took up crochet late in life. At age eighty-two, she crocheted eight scarves for English soldiers who had distinguished themselves in battle. Some have speculated that only a war hero could have worn the things, as they were made of a particularly rough and scratchy Berlin wool.
A Short List on What the Queen Mum Was Missing Out on by Not Knitting for Babies, or How One Becomes Addicted to the Sport
1. Nothing fills you with hope like knitting for a new life.
2. Many baby items are quick knits. Her Majesty could probably have knit up a pair of booties for any one of her little royals in the time it took her Ladies of the Bedchamber to dress her each morning. Such a lot of buttons!
3. While knitting for babies in high-end yarn can be pricey, it’s still less expensive than knitting for adults. Although when you own most of the sheep in Great Britain, you probably don’t need to pinch pennies here.
4. Baby pattern books not only have fun designs featuring monkeys, elephants, and snowmen, but they also have pictures of chubby-cheeked babies, looking too adorable for words in their wooly hats and mittens. When was the last time you saw an adorable, chubby-cheeked grown-up in a wooly hat and mittens?
5. Babies never let you know what they really think about your knitted gifts, unlike your sister-in-law, who made that really ugly face when you knit her those Fair Isle mittens with the squirrel motifs. (How were you supposed to know she had a pathological fear of squirrels?)
BABY’S FIRST MITTS
Let’s Begin!
Materials: Small amount of Fingering weight wool in blue and white or desired colors.
Needles: US size 1 double-pointed needles
Gauge: 9 sts. = 1 inch
FRONT
BACK
Cast on 40 stitches and join. Work ribbing of K1P1 for 2 inches.
K1M1 evenly across row until 6 stitches have been added to 46 stitches.
Distribute stitches on three needles as follows: 23 sts. on first needle. 11 stitches on needle 2 and 12 stitches on needle 3.
Work chart front and back until you get to decreases.
Work decreases as follows: Needles 1 K1 slip 1, K1, psso. Knit to last 3 stitches. K2 tog., K1.
Needle 2: K1, slip 1, K1, psso. Knit to end.
Needle 3: Knit to last 3 stitches, K2 tog. K1.
Complete chart with decreases until 30 stitches remain.
Bind off with a three needle bind off. Weave in ends.
Embroider flowers of choice in basket.
I-cord rope optional . . . Make an I-cord appr. 22 inches long or to desired length and sew to each mitten.
DEAR MRS. WICKS,
Why do I always end up choosing sock patterns that are way too complicated and make me pull out my hair?
Sincerely,
Sock-Crazed in New Mexico
DEAR SOCK-CRAZED,
I feel your pain. But the hard truth is that sometimes more than faith is needed in life and sock-making.
“A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.”
Friedrich Nietzche (1844–1900)
My first foray into sock-knitting was such a success, I grew cocky enough to think that I could take on any other sock pattern I chose. What I failed to grasp was that I didn’t really know what I was doing the first time I knit a pair of socks. I just got lucky. But I didn’t know that then.
Misplaced Faith
I had such faith
In my chops to make socks,
How could it go so wrong?
I set out on my second sock adventure with the ridiculous notion that I had mastered the craft. I made the mistake
of choosing a pattern meant for an advanced sock knitter. Like someone convinced that they are Jesus, or Buddha, I had lost all links to reality. I had risen to the level of Sock Master in my mind.
I also made the mistake of thinking that this would be the perfect project for the six-hour car ride, which Mr. Wicks and I were planning to make. My faith was so strong that I neglected to pack a back-up project (just kill me now if I ever make that mistake again).
So there we were, about five minutes into the drive, when I brought out my needles and yarn. Only now, reading the pattern over for the first time, did I begin to feel a twinge of terror. A Twisted German Cast On? Really? There is such a thing? Apparently, there is, but no one bothered to include directions. The assumption being, that you, Sock Master, would of course know how to do a Twisted German Cast On!
I grabbed my phone. I went online and found a video tutorial of the Twisted German Cast On. I had to squint to watch it on my phone’s tiny screen. A wave of nausea overtook me as Mr. Wicks made a sharp turn into the other lane. I grit my teeth as I tried to concentrate on the video once again. That is when my battery died, and I realized that I had forgotten to pack the charger. From there it was all downhill.
I quickly abandoned the Twisted German Cast On, for my regular Long Tail Cast On, but it was of little consolation. It seemed as if each direction was written in an archaic language with no translations. The wisdom of reading your pattern over before committing to it was dawning on me now in a big way.
I struggled along until I reached the instep, but looking over my work, I could see that something had gone terribly wrong. The sock had grown so misshapen that it was painful to look at. Even the colors in the striping of the yarn looked sickly to me now. I shoved the whole mess into my knitting bag and checked the time. Oh, joy, only five hours to go with nothing to knit!
“It’s not the end of the world,” said Mr. Wicks in his calm, Buddha-like voice, from behind the steering wheel.
I shot him a withering look. “Oh, shut up, Buddha boy.”