Last night, the Plotted and Pieced Blouse (I admit: it’s my favorite piece in the collection) hit #1 on Ravelry. Never, ever, ever would I have dreamt it.

The response to my Findley Dappled book has been wildly exciting and totally incredible. I’ve spent today and yesterday being absolutely worthless– reading the wonderful comments you’ve left on the blog, counting up my ravelry hearts like a miser, going through your wonderful emails and facebook comments and tweets, and being generally verklempt & kittenheaded.

I will express myself through animal pictures.

At first, I was slack-jawed. Utterly shocked.

Then, I blushed. Powerfully. I was shy, nervous, and a little embarrassed for being as proud as I am.

Because, in my heart, I feel like this!

I have never in my life received such a heartwarming gift as this litany of positivity. People who don’t even know me– strangers!– are saying nice things about me! On the internet! I’m not being sarcastic!

And this is all the sweeter, because I know exactly how hard everyone worked to put this book together. Susan took an enormous chance on me when she asked me, back in the summer, if I’d write a book of lace patterns. Zac did all my farm chores while I sketched, swatched, and scribbled my way through the fall. I’ve promised multiple firstborns (mine. That’s probably a problem.) to my patient, long-suffering, wind-swift Test Knitters. Alison taught me how to actually write a pattern, with her red Mark-Changes pen of Technical Editing. Joel’s photographs are so beautiful that they shocked me– I had no idea my designs looked that good! And Lauria did everything (as in: EVERY. THING.) in between.

I am beyond pleased, and so happy that you all like it. I can’t wait for you to be able to start knitting– I have a feeling I’m going to be overwhelmed all over again.

This post is cross-posted from the Juniper Moon Farm blog, because, really, you should read it!

I insisted that we walk down to the north edge of Oakland to visit A Verb for Keeping Warm. Right next to a place called the Actual Cafe (which promises “Hot Coffee, Good Food, Nice Folks”), on a street corner which must be one of the most literal places in all the world, I walked in and found the Nicest Yarns There Are, in person.

A wall of J+S jumperweight. All the Madeleinetosh and Malabrigo you could stand. FYBERSPATES. Lots of breed-specific wool from local farms. Mushroom-dyed yarns. Physical copies of self-published bestsellers. A full rack of gorgeous samples. It was heaven. I wanted it all. Also, they were hiring.

I didn’t know what to do, so Zac went next door to the Actual Cafe, and I went up to the counter and said, “I’m on vacation from Virginia, and I’d like to buy a souvenir. What’s your favorite thing here?”

Immediately, as is my self-effacing habit, I apologized for asking such a strange/personal/hard question, but she said, “Actually, that’s an easy question.” She walked me over to the yarn they dyed in-house (I asked about their processes, but she told me they were secret), and showed me something beautiful.

This is Shimmering, and the gerunds-as-naming-convention reminds me of nothing else but Stella McCartney lingerie.

Tangent.

I wanted to make friends and keep chatting, so I asked them if they could please skein all 1093 yards?

Happy to!

They hadn’t heard of the farm (You’re a fiber CSA? You give them yarn, in with the vegetables?), but, well, humbled.

Since visiting, I’ve been reading Kristine’s blog, where she writes daily about dyeing, teaching, traveling, and the daily realities of managing a crafty business– taking inventory, coming up with new products, having to knit instead of getting to knit, dealing with negative feedback– and that’s just this month! It’s so nice to hear a familiar story (Although– the kind of smarts, bravery, responsibility, and hustle that running, owning, and founding a successful business require? Dear Lord. I haven’t worked nearly as hard!).

I’ve definitely got plans for little Shimmering, and they’re called Pi Shawl, and, as such, will have to wait until July (my birthday?).

Until then, secreted away in the yarn cabinet. There’s nothing I like more than an actually useful souvenir (Brown leather bag? Best dress of all time? Berlin, 2008.), and I think this fits the bill.

When beautiful presents are knit, there’s always a price to be paid.

This sad little rectangle, testament to my failure to KNIT ALL THE THINGS (see: Startitis), is all there is of my dad’s Christmas sweater, the notorious Na Craga, which pattern prompted knitters to buy (and sell) their out-of-print copies of Aran Knitting for, famously, upwards of $200.

This sweater has been promised him ever since I received Aran Knitting for Christmas 2010, a present from my sister Charlotte (she’d asked the shop assistant for Aryan Knitting, which is another problem for another day. Charlotte’s absence-of-Christmas-sweater is also another problem for another day.)

I am, of course, still working on it. I really enjoy the similarity between working it, and working on the January Aran I started a few weeks back– the central horseshoe cables, the aran braid.

My main concern is that it might be a little too big for my dad. I’ve knit for him before, and have erred both on the side of too big and too small, but have never gotten it quite right– which sad fact is probably related to my never actually having taken a measurement. However, the too-large sweater is worn with middling frequency, but always accompanied by the wisecrack, “You much think an awful great lot of your father– that I’m quite the big man around town,” which is nice. The too-small one may as well not exist. I haven’t seen it since 2009. This is a shame, because it was beautiful.

Worst case, it fits Zac and goes to him– neatly skirting the Sweater Curse & associated problems.

I’m working in KnitPicks Swish, in Squirrel Heather (such a name!), on US 5 needles (the yarn is left over from my Poorer Days). I’m gritting my teeth a bit on the superwash, but, given the track record (How many hats have become yarmulkes? Too many.), it’s either that or cotton.

My dream-goal is to knit 1 ball (110 yds) a day, and be done in less than a month. That is likely impossible. Therefore, my actual deadline is March 21, Dad’s birthday (and, as the first day of Spring, the end of sweater weather).

And so, to tack on an end, I’d like to thank you all for your super-nice comments on yesterday’s sweater. They mean so much to me!

ETA: Forgetful! On Ravelry!

It is terribly warm, incredibly soft, entrancingly constructed, and traced with all different braids and cables. It’s also (as of Christmas) my mother’s. She gets lots of compliments on it, she says, and even I– who knit the thing– can’t help but stare at the cables twisting and swooping all around. This pattern is a masterpiece. I bought it because I couldn’t stand to NOT have made something that was so obvious (a knitted circle, shaped with short-rows, add sleeves), yet still so inscrutable and fascinating.

Honestly. I could stare at this thing all day. It’s probably a GOOD thing I don’t own it.

It’s called Opposite Pole, and was designed by Joji Locatelli (all of whose designs are beautiful).

Here’s the other thing, though.

I am wholly confident that this sweater would be nowhere near as wonderful as it is if it weren’t for the incredible yarn I knit it in. I’ve sung the praises of Chadwick before, and, well, I’m about to sing ‘em again.

This sweater was made to luxuriate in. The wide garter collar (and fat 18-stitch reversible cable) drape cozily around the neck, the fronts come gently together, and the back sweeps around in true show-off fashion, weighted by that giant cable that goes around the perimeter. This sweater is not for hard wear, or heavy use– although it is for serious cold.

Therefore, in this instance, a yarn you’d like to stick your face in to would not be a bad choice. Not to keep harping on Giant-Perimeter-Cable, but, when worked in a yarn like Chadwick, you end up with such a QUANTITY of thick, soft, downy round-the-neck fabric that you can’t help but nuzzle and scrunch down into it (think: turtle).

Some other stats:

• Needles: US 9 and 10
• Dates: October 10, 2011 – December 23, 2011. I lost a little steam somewhere around Fall Shearing, and never really got it back until after our S/S 2012 photoshoot (more on which when the Time Is Right).

To close, I leave you with my dad’s very memorable praise: “Now, you can’t just find something like that at the K-Mart.”

Something to which all knitwear should aspire.

ETA (I always forget this!): Ravel’d here.

This sweater, for Baby Lemon (whose parents work with my friend Elinor), took a little longer than expected, but I think was well-received.

I also brought a new lanyard (per request) to my friend Maggie. When we were roommates, she’d taken the i-cord drawstring from a saddle cover I’d made and started using it to keep her keys on when she went out– it’s the easiest way to keep track of them while you bike (things slip out of pockets).

The old one finally wore out, and so, another. I told her she can have 1 a year in perpetuity. We’ll see.

Since he works for a startup that happens to purvey fine wines and myriad epicurean/artisan fancy edibles, we were able to work out something pretty good (Jay! Those salted caramels were fantastic! Thank you!!!). Also part of the deal is the promise of blog photos in front of the New York City landmark of my choosing, and the accosting of good-looking strangers to do the modeling (maybe)!

So, in a move that catapulted this sweater into quite rare company– I never ever knit anything twice– I suggested the East Hale Cardigan, from the Fall 2011 issue of Knitscene. I’d knit it this past September for another friend of mine, who wore– is still wearing, as I saw on our San Francisco trip– the absolute hell out of it, which pleases me to no end.

That also makes this sweater my Standard Sweater For Dudes in Tech (next in line for a sweater is my friend Ben, who’s been owed one for at LEAST five years, and probably also needs one, living in Ithaca and all. This is because my intarsia-in-the-round was never quite up to the challenge of knitting the Rebel and Imperial insignia onto the backs of fingerless gloves. Understandably.).

Anyway, we sent more emails back and forth, and it looks like the only modifications I’ll be making are to add handwarmer pockets, interior pockets, and breast pockets, of varying zippered status. (He writes, “Warm pockets and hot pockets are all you need to keep a man content.”)

Also per request, an as-in-depth-as-possible account of making this sweater. Seen above is a solid 2.5 hours of knitting, worked last night. The work’s done on US 7 needles (4.5 mm diameter), and begun with a Norwegian Long-Tail Cast On, which is known for its stretchiness and flexibility. On the extreme right and left, where the two sides come together at center front, there’s an incorporated i-cord edging (as opposed to applied, which is where, as a finishing touch, the edging is worked from the picked-up stitches along the fronts. Also, i-cord, short for idiot-cord, is a 3-or-4-stitch knitted tube invented by Elizabeth Zimmermann, and is positively the easiest thing in the world to knit.).

The bottom hem is worked in a 2×2 rib– you knit 2 stitches, purl 2 stitches, and repeat the sequence of four until the end (or, in this case, until you reach the last 8 stitches: there’s a 5-stitch garter stitch front border– more on that later– plus that 3-stitch incorporated i-cord).

Ribbing– columns of alternating knits and purls– makes a piece of knitting much stretchier than it usually would be. A knit stitch brings the yarn up through the front of the stitch below it, pushing the old stitch to the back. A purl stitch brings the yarn up through the back of the stitch below it, pushing the old stitch to the front. (So, the back side– “wrong side”– of a knit is a purl, and vice versa). When you put frontwards-tending and backwards-tending stitches next to one another, the knits push forwards, and the purls recede. So, because they’re filling extra space in the frontwards/backwards direction (I guess that’s z), they’re less able to fill space in the x (left/right) direction, and so they pull in more. And that’s why ribbing is stretchy, and good for the bottom hems of things.

Anyway, Jay, let me know if this is as in-depth as you’d hoped, and if it makes any sense at all. I’m going to figure out how to put little labeled pointer arrows on things, at the very least, so I can explain some more things. I mean, other people do this lots better than I do (TECHknitting comes to mind, plus, her illustrations are 1) awesome and 2) her own), but, anyway, I am telling all.

What’s staying with me, of course, are the smallest, simplest things: how nice it is to sit up at night talking with friends, or to be waited on in a restaurant, or to wake up, pad around an unfamiliar house, and have no plan beyond making the coffee.

They’d ask, every evening, What was your favorite part of today? What was the best thing you saw? And I’d invariably say, The sidewalks– having the chance to walk around, all day. Being able to leave the house and instantly be somewhere. The fact that, theoretically, with enough time and inclination, you could walk anywhere.

Of course, I’m afraid that the images that are staying with me are also a little pedestrian– blogosphere bromides. Lots of seafoam. Some trees. Decorative railings on a hotel. But I treasure them.

They are also, of course, imminently translatable into knitted swatches of all sorts.

Lace, color.

Cables, texture, color.

These swoops of foam have already been made into knit items, here and here. I’d love to make either. Preferably both.

Border pattern.

Color, texture

There’s a bit of you-can’t-get-there-from-here (where could you ever find a color to match that green!?), but I’m looking forward to trying. I’m also– another middlebrow epiphany coming up– really impressed with the camera’s ability to record things that I wouldn’t otherwise remember. Despite trying my damndest to carpe diem, these memories– the ones with pictures– will be my strongest. But I don’t know if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

Do you all find that memories– travel-memories in particular– act that way? Is it bad to rely on the camera to capture it all? I’m curious to hear what you all think about this!

Fell into a giant vat of Cormo, actually:

Nearly drowned.

We have also recently been visited by giant MURMURATIONS of starlings (of which this pictured is not the largest by a long shot).

Zac and I are also about to leave the house to go to:

We are going to spend a week, and visit our schoolfriends. This is the first Real Vacation I’ve been on since… maybe going hiking with these same friends in Summer 2009? Since a good part of our work at the farm is hosting farmstays– ie, hosting people who are on vacation– it doesn’t really feel like it’s been that long.

It is 30 minutes until we walk out the door, and I don’t yet know what knitting I am going to bring.

But I am so excited!

“Once upon a time there was an old woman who loved to knit.”

This is one of the most simple, pleasant, and memorable opening lines I know of (“an old woman’s knitting, ἄειδε θεὰ”).

Setting out to follow, this is the shape my beginning has taken:

Several Barbara Walker stitch dictionaries, the 2010 reprint of Aran Knitting, a buried sketchbook, open Ravelry page, and, of course, Knitter’s Almanac itself

(also pictured: camera battery charger, wallet, chocolate bar, US 4 circular needles, WOOL.)

The wool in question is Cormo Rusticus, a unique and one-time woolen offering from JMF (you read, didn’t you, that we’d all set some aside for ourselves?). It’s creamy, luscious, and utterly unlike anything I’ve ever knit with before. It really is exactly identical to the stuff that the sheep out there are covered in– although that’s obviously no surprise.

In lieu of reinforcing the so-often-imposed dichotomy between softness and scratchiness/sheepiness (and the perhaps concomitant moral imperative– to which I so often fall prey– to choose the sheepy and scratchy over the silk/alpaca/mass-produced-merino and soft), I won’t be telling you that this wool is “So cozy, yet so sheepy– it’s a perfect marriage!”, because I think that’s the easy way out, and that’s boring.

Really, the adjective that comes closest is creamy. It’s like the inside of a perfectly-cooked bean. Tender. With substance. Coherent. Two ticks to the smooth side of gritty. It’s perfect.

Anyway, let’s talk about cables!

So, having totally been inspired by Jared Flood’s beauty (I mean, I’ve been in love with it since 2007– that’s FIVE YEARS), I’m putting the central panel from Na Craga on the center back.

And, because I am, after all, in debt to the Divine Elizabeth, I can’t not put a Fishtrap Cable on either side of the front.

There are two Sheepfold cables on the back (of course),

two Aran Braids underneath either armhole,

and two irresistably-named somethings that Barbara Walker calls Sausage Cables.

And there are two panels of Gull Stitch, flanking the 10 steek sts (I like to give myself lots of room).

If you’d like to knit along with me, I don’t think I can recommend Cormo Rusticus highly enough. I’ll be posting pretty frequently about the making of it here on my blog, so stay tuned– or, better still, knit an Aran with me!

ETA: Ravel’d here! How could I have forgotten!?

Callem, Feenat’s lamb from this year.

Some of this year’s lambs.

A silly picture of the rare Virginian Longsheep.