Socked In

I have yet another new obsession.

Socks!

But first...

This is my great-great-grandfather, Elias Cabot Balcom.  I love that name.  From the little I know about him, he had a hard life.  Born in New York in 1827, by 1850 he was married and living in Iowa with a young wife and one year-old daughter.  He was listed in various documents as a wagon maker, a physician, a photographer, a postmaster, and a miller.

His oldest son, my great-grandfather Ira G. Balcom, said about him:  "Father was a very brilliant man. He knew more of chemistry, geometry and algebra than most of us do today (1935). He was a community doctor much of the time while in Ohio."

At some point he left his wife with four children, married another woman (perhaps without benefit of a divorce from my g-g-grandmother), and had two more children.  When his second wife was pregnant with their second daughter, the story goes, he took her to look at a mill he was building in West Virginia.  She fell in the mill pond, and he jumped in to rescue her.  She was fine, but he developed pneumonia and died before the child was born.  Another version of the story has him dying "cause unknown" two weeks before the child's birth. 


What does this have to do with socks?  Not much, except for this brief story in a letter written by my great-grandfather, Ira G. Balcom to his half-sister, Sarada (the unborn child) decades later:


The picture I wished you to send was one of myself, when about thirteen or fourteen years old.  I think it is likely to the one taken when your mother and I went to Syracuse to sell socks (father had bought a knitting machine). We stopped just outside the town and had some pictures taken, both of your mother and myself. [27 Jan 1933]    


This would have been in 1869 or 1870.  According to the 1870 census, the village of Syracuse in Meigs County, Ohio, had a population of about 1200 people, many of whom worked in the coal and salt works.  Ira never did say how well the socks sold.

I've been intrigued by knitting machines since I was a kid.  My mother had one of the Japanese flatbed machines.  Even the manual was in Japanese, and we never could figure out how to make it work.  It resided in our basement for about thirty years before someone decided to get rid of it.  If you're read some of my previous posts, you know that I've been really into these machines this past year.

I saw my first circular sock machine (CSM) at a Newton's Seminar a few years ago. It's been in the back of my mind ever since.   CSMs have been a niche hobby for quite some time.  The first machines for home use were sold in the 1860s.  Their heyday was apparently during WW1, when socks were needed for the armed forces.  And production of the machines pretty much ended in the 1930s.   For many years, the only way to have a CSM was to invest in a vintage or antique machine.  Since I wasn't allowed to take shop classes in high school (back in the dark ages), I'm not prepared to repair or maintain one of these machines.  In the 1980s, the Harmony Auto-Knitter was sold, but unfortunately the company went out of business.  More recently, a New Zealand company has been making the autoknitter (NZAK), which has been very popular.  They have an excellent reputation for quality and I've learned that loads of CSM knitters swear by them.

But they're awfully far away.  I worry about things like how long it will take to get replacement parts or get something repaired if (ok, when) I drop it.  If they were in the U.S., I might have invested in one of their machines by now. 

That hasn't stopped me from being fascinated by these machines.  Then a few weeks ago, convergence happened.  I had a modest windfall that I was told to spend on something "fun" for myself.  And just that morning I had seen a comment about a new CSM in one of my Ravelry groups.  AND I came across Ira's letter talking about his father's knitting machine.    One week later, I was the proud owner of "Elias Cabot" (we CSM owners like to name our machines), a brand-new Erlbacher Gearhart machine.

Meet Elias Cabot!

I don't knit socks.  Heck, I don't even wear socks.  My feet get too hot.  But I'm told that a good pair of wool socks will not cause digital overheating, so this may have to change.  Or a lot of family and friends are going to be getting socks for Christmas.  They may just get them anyway, when I get the hang of this machine.  So far I've learned to cast on using net, a webbing of waste yarn, and a cast-on sack. I can knit a tube, hang a hem, make a picot edge, and change yarns.  But I'm stumped by shaping a heel.  No matter how careful I am, I'm dropping stitches and curse words all over the place.  I know it can be done -- I've seen actual videos of actual people doing it. 

I have been knitting sock blanks for friends to dye and re-knit.  After a recent cone-winding disaster, when one of the drive chains fell off my cone winder and as I was rushing to turn it off, I knocked the skeined yarn off my swift, I had a pile of tangled undyed sock yarn, and spent a few mindless evenings untangling it.  Several times I had to cut it and start over, and the friction caused by untangling made the yarn pill and fray in spots, so it was not sock-worthy.  Wanting to try out some different ways of making self-patterning yarn, I knit them into blanks anyway, and went to town on the dyes.

Note to self:  NEVER EVER AGAIN try to dye yarn in the kitchen.  And ALWAYS put the lid back on the little container of powdered dye completely.  And NEVER pick up said little container by the lid.  Fortunately my kitchen is all tile and stainless steel, so there was no permanent damage except for one shirt that bore the brunt of the flying powder when the little jar slipped out of the lid and hit the counter.   The only other comment I will make on this unfortunate incident is thank goodness for Reduran.  A good scrubbing got everything off my skin except the spots I didn't notice.  Having turquoise cleavage is not a fashion statement I care to repeat.

Anyway, I dyed up several blanks and look forward to seeing how they knit up.  I knitted the first blank fairly wide, then painted half of it black.  On the other half, I alternated turquoise and yellow stripes.  I painted this one with dye on both sides because I didn't want any white flecks.

This should give me narrow bands of colored stripes alternating with black.  The yellowish bands on the top and bottom and in the center of the blank are waste yarn and were pulled out when I wound the cones.









Next I decided to try some different colors in bands to see how nicely they played together.  They actually stayed in their own places pretty well, but the result was boring and the red stripe was too wide.  So I got into the black dye left over from the previous blank and decided to make some polka dots.  When knitted up later, these dots won't line up this way -- they should appear as random bits of black here and there among the colored stripes. I did not paint the back of this blank, hoping to get a  heathery effect with white specks and less saturated colors throughout.













This is the resulting yarn. Only the green, turquoise, and black colors from one end of the blank are showing, although if you look at the bottom of the left-hand cone, you can see a little of the purple, red, and yellow peeking out.




Then I got a little crazy with the red, turquoise, and blue dyes on the blank below.  This time I didn't want any striping - just random colors. I deliberately tried to make this bizarre and unappealing. I even added a little black here and there to make it even uglier. And I succeeded, didn't I?  Once again, I left the back alone so there would be some white speckling.  The gold color on the ends is waste yarn.

I do like the looks of the coned yarn.  I have no clue how this will knit up.  Will there be stripes?  Bizarre pools of color?  Appealing to the eye or downright disturbing? 

Then one of those serendipitous things happened.  Some friends had found a textured yarn at Tuesday Morning that they thought would make interesting ropes.  I happened to be near my local store and had a few free minutes, so I dropped in to see what they had.  I did find a few skeins to add to the ropemaking stash, but then I found sock yarn.  And not just sock yarn, but SOCK YARN ON MAJOR CLEARANCE!  Not having experienced sock yarn prices except for the bulk undyed yarn I bought for blanks, I bought a few balls of yarn and went my merry way.

When I got home, I started to add the yarns to my stash on Ravelry, which sent me in search of reviews and info on these yarns in online stores.  When I saw the regular retail prices of so many different types of sock yarns, I realized what a bargain I had found.  That sent me off on a quest to all the T.M. stores within driving distance.  Six of them.  And another two stores that happened to be on my route to other destinations.  Plus my good friend Holly, who is also on a mission to find yarn for ropemaking visited two other T.M. stores.  At last count, there are now some 60 or so balls of sock yarn in my newly established stash.  Now all I have to do is actually learn to knit socks.

A Portion of the New Sock Stash

Time Flies When You're Knitting

Happy St. Distaff's Day!

Can't believe a over a month has gone by without posting.  It certainly isn't because I haven't been having fibery fun.

There have been some excellent distractions.   Beautiful sunsets like this one...

that have left me standing on the porch with mouth agape just staring at the beautiful colors on several occasions.

And some irresistible cuteness...



This is my little Tallulah who is humiliated on a regular basis by being made to don costumes when we're making cards for all the major holidays (and a few minor ones).  And by having to wear a zebra-striped jacket on cold days.  Egregious use of dog picture, but but I can rationalize it by admitting that I'm saving her hair trimmings to spin. She's 2 1/2 years old and I already have at least half an ounce of her hair. (!)

And last, but not least, getting to spend quality time with extended family and friends over the holidays.  Who would not appreciate having their photos in my blog, so I will abstain.

I still found time to work on some projects.  In early December, I took my first machine knitting class at Newton's Yarn Country.  The Studio 360K I received from a friend was all cleaned with a new sponge bar, and worked like a charm.  The project for the first class was a small scarf -- techniques learned include e-wrap cast-on, fair isle knitting using the 24-stitch punch cards, back-stitch cast-off, and mattress stitch seams.  The scarf fabric came off the loom all rolled up a tube, then we steamed it (relatively) flat.  I'm in the process of stitching the two long edges together using mattress stitch, but the purple color is so dark it's a struggle to see what I'm doing.  So finishing the seam and adding the fringe is on hold until I get myself under a good lamp with a magnifying glass.

If you look closely, you can see a couple of flaws in the pattern knitting, but since this was more for the training than for the finished object, I didn't go back and correct them.  Somewhere I read that an artist should always include at least one small error in his art to prove his humility to God.  I've decided to be grateful that I probably won't ever be in a position to lack humility.

But right after the lesson I went home feeling a little too full of myself and ready to create a larger, more complex scarf.  Wrong!  I succeeded in setting up the machine properly and that's about it.  I could not do anything right.  Kept dropping stitches, forgetting to change a setting and not getting the pattern where I wanted it, getting yarns caught on the stand, carriage jams, you name it.  After about the third time I confidently "knitted" across a row and had the entire project come off the machine, I told myself to step away from the machine and put it away until after Christmas.

Next time I got out the machine, it was a different experience.  I got out the instruction book and  followed it in excruciating detail.  I think a lot of the problem I had earlier was because I was just a little too excited about what I had learned and I was forgetting to flip a lever here, check my tension there.  Things new knitters simply have to make routine.  I practiced the easy stuff first -  casting on, plain knitting, changing yarn colors... 

This is just a simple striped scarf in my school colors -- it knitted up easily and very fast -- a matter of under an hour even with all the color changes.  Will probably take me longer to stitch the back seam and do fringe than the knitting took.

Then I switched to Fair Isle.  By following the instructions one step at a time, I did get this scarf fabric finished.  I don't much like the pattern - something about the solid red parts are just visually disturbing to me.  But the knitting still had some major errors -- a few spots where the white yarn got picked up in the knitting where it didn't belong, and one big spot where I dropped stitches without realizing it and had to darn by hand later.  

You can see in this photo how obvious the error is, and a little bit of my clumsy darning.  By the time I was learning to knit and sew, darning was already a lost art, so I completely bluffed my way through this one.

And in the photo below, you can see how long some of the floats were  - on some patterns the floats can be nearly the width of the whole fabric, so learning to control these is important.

I tried a couple more Fair Isle patterns - thought this one would be really fun for my greatnieces -- but ran into the problem with misplaced stitches.  Frustrated, I set aside the Fair Isle until I could show the problems to my teachers at Newton's.  I learned in my second lesson that if I pull the first stitch on each row forward, it helps to keep the yarn that should be floating from getting into the pattern by accident.  I also learned that I need to pay more attention to keeping my weights closer to the top of the knitting.  

I needed to do something totally different.   I've been intrigued by the mesh yarn used to make ruffly scarves and wanted to play with some.  Since I couldn't visualize how to hand-knit this, I decided to try it on the knitting machine.  After a few false starts, I cast on 20 stitches, and ran a row of the mesh across every six rows. 

It took a bit of getting used to looping the mesh over the needles.  If you don't maintain tension on it, the loops just pop right off the needles.  I ended up pulling down on the mesh with one hand while moving the needles out and hooking the mesh over them with the other.  It helps to be ambidextrous when you have to switch directions every other row.

This is what the scarf looks like on the "front" between rows of the novelty yarn.  Since the mesh ranges from a very pale shade to a dark one, I figured a mid-range would be suitable.  You can't even see it through the mesh.  One thing I didn't count on, but should have, is that the scarf would have a solid back. 

Here's what the back looks like.  Although I like the extra weight the yarn gives the scarf, this is going to look junky if it flips over.  So I'm going to stitch the edges together to make a tube completely surrounded by the mesh.

I have another skein of the mesh, and think next time I will try a much loose tension.  Would like the scarf to be a little less weighty and would also like it to be a bit longer than the first one.  


  

Had my second lesson last Saturday, and it was SO much fun.  First, we talked about my "issues" and Helen gave me some really good pointers for dealing with them.  Since then, knock wood, the only problems I'm having happen when I get careless and don't check my settings.  In the second lesson, I learned a weaving cast-on technique, and learned to decrease rows by moving stitches from one needle to the next and taking the unused needles out of action.  Got a little more practice with the Fair Isle technique, and didn't have a single problem with it. Huzzah!  At the end of the lesson, I had a completely finished little infant's cap.  This technique would actually make wonderful caps for chemo patients -- because of the way it's folded and the seam is mattress-stitched, there is no edge inside to irritate tender skin.  I'd like to get some really soft yarns to make more of these.


































My Studio MK-70 was all repaired, cleaned, and ready to come home.  It is such a cool looking machine, I'm not sure I would care if it didn't knit worth a darn.  But it does.  Although I'm taking my lessons on the Studio 360K and plan on sticking with it until I'm comfortable with all its bells and whistles, I couldn't resist trying out the MK-70.  This one also is capable of Fair Isle, but the cards are 18-stitch, so cannot be interchanged with the 360K cards.  I have just the five cards that came with the machine, one of which is not intended for Fair Isle knitting.  Here are the four patterns I do have:

Three geometrics...  I like the top one, am so-so about the middle, and really dislike the bottom one.  And one that looks like heart-shaped flowers.  Sorry - my photo is a bit blurred -- but I really like this pattern. 

I 'd really like to find more18-stitch pattern cards or at least some  blank cards to someday make my own.  You'd think that the dozens of 24-stitch cards I have would keep me busy with the 360K, but the MK-70 can knit with a bulkier yarn and I would like to have the versatility.

But for now, MK-70 is back in her box, waiting patiently while I attempt to master the 360K.  This month I'm concentrating on switching from Fair Isle to plain stitching and trying to get a handle on visualizing how the pattern on a card will look knitted up.  I've already had a couple of surprises.  And this is becoming so much fun!  

Learning to Knit on a Machine

Well, it took a few days to get my oomph back after Convergence.  Spent a few evenings studying books on machine knitting and put my new machine together.  It's a basic, entry-level knitter and I'm looking foward to making lots of projects on it -- especially blanks for space-dyeing yarns.

I quickly realized that I would need to do something about a table before I could use the machine.  It has to be bolted on to a table.   Turns out I don't have a table sturdy enough for a knitting machine that can accommodate the clamps.  I don't have room for another piece of furniture in my house, so I did some research on knitting machine stands and my friend Holly and I made a trip to Newton's Yarn Country on Saturday.

They were having one of their parking lot sales (yee-haw!) and as usual they were very busy.  But that didn't stop "Mrs. Newton's" from taking a few minutes to talk with me about tables and accessories.  And "Mr. Newton's" stopped pulling yarn out of the warehouse to look for a stand for me.  How pathetic is it that as many times as I've been to their store, I haven't learned their names?

Anyway, I  was quite impressed that they had two choices of stands in stock, and that they didn't try to sell me the more expensive one.  We talked for a few minutes about my machine and plans for using it, and they suggested that the costlier one would be overkill, and I think they were right.  Having done my homework, I knew the lowest price I would pay if I bought online, and I actually spent about $30 less, even adding in the tax.

As I was looking around the shop, I noticed a couple of cases near the knitting machines.  Turned out they use rifle cases, same as Nancy Roberts recommended.  They sell them at their cost (less than I would have paid buying it direct) so I got a very fair price on a case. 

Of course, I couldn't visit Newton's on a sale day and not check out the yarns.  So we bundled the new stand, rifle case, and a couple of garbage bags of yarn suitable for machine knitting into the car.  And I think I may have Holly hooked on fiber arts because she came home with a few cones of yarn, too!

Soon as I got home I had to check out the case.  Everything fits just right and the foam in the case even keeps all the small stuff from moving around.  Now I need to figure out how to embellish it so it's clear that it does not contain firearms.  As much as I'm in favor of keeping my constitutional rights,  I don't need anybody thinking I'm carrying.

 
Then I put together the stand (instructions were excellent and easy to follow) and got the machine clamped on.  Funny that there was no indication of how the machine should be oriented on the stand.  I looked all over the internet and found zip.  Guess you're just supposed to know what the purpose of the arm thingies is.  (Turns out they're for other machines that have different case configurations.  All I needed was a simple solid surface to clamp to.  I was surprised at how sturdy the stand turned out to be -- It doesn't wobble a bit.  And it will be so easy to transport it to classes, etc.

I was about to spend a few hours over the weekend getting better acquainted with the machine.  So far it's been quite easy to follow the instructions in the basic guide to the machine.  Learned a little about using the transfer and tappet tools, and made a small pile of samples using different techniques.  Here goes  (photos show front of fabric on left, back on right):

Pile of Samples

Color Changes

Tuck Stitch

More Tuck Stitch with Loose Gauge

Tuck Stitch in Colors

Tuck Stitch in Colors, Changing Yarn in Different Rows

Slip Stitch - Hard to See Diagonal Effect

I Think This Was the Start of Lace Stitch

Plating, Using Every Other Needle, Variations in Gauge

Plating, Using Every Needle

I had a ball learning about these techniques. It's a bit like driving a car, where you have to keep track of several things going on at once.  Make sure your inactive yarns are out of the way, check your active yarn tension, be sure the carriage goes past all the live needles on each pass, on and on.  Just when you're confident that you've got a handle on it, you make a pass and knit your work right off the machine.  But that's why we have classes and books to help us learn, right?

Speaking of books, here are the ones I'm currently reading.  Bought the first two.  Borrowed the third but I'm going to buy it one of these days.

Mid-Gauge Basics + Much More.

This is the first book I bought and it expands on the techniques in the LK 150 manual.  Offers several simple but attractive projects for learning the ropes.  Can't wait to make the baby cardigan for my new great-niece!







 The Uncomplicated Knitting Machine.

This is a common-sense guide to machine knitting that takes the fear out of approaching a project.  Takes you through the phases of knitting different styles of sweaters from planning to execution to finishing.  Maybe the family will be getting sweaters this Christmas.

Hand Manipulated Stitches for Machine Knitters.

This book has a really clear explanation about how knitting machines work, various tools you might need, and the basics of casting on and binding off before it gets into the more exotic and decorative stitches.  It may be a while before I'm ready for more than just the basics, but the directions in this book are so clear and well illustrated that it's going to be a pleasure to use it.