Finish for Fall!

If Spring is a time for new beginnings, then Fall is a time to finish what we started!  Join me in Finish for Fall, a project for weaving in loose ends so that our exciting autumn/holiday knitting season isn't overshadowed by the languishing projects of spring and summer. Or last year.  Or the year before that...

We'll go step by step over the next few weeks, tackling with diligence those unfinished objects (UFO's in knitter-speak) until we will end up with finished projects, more room in our knitting storage areas, and a sense of accomplishment that will be worth celebrating.

I am going to be doing this project along with you, and honestly, I can think of several other things I would rather do instead. All of those other things would indicate denial of the issue--I have unfinished business and a real mess in my knitting storage areas.  This may shock those of you who have decided that I have it all together, in which case let me reassure you that the state of my yarn piles is pretty bad.  In point of fact, it tends to overwhelm me because if I had to go right now and look for a certain yarn, I know that bags of yarn (never the yarn I'm looking for, of course) will unceremoniously dump out of my antique armoire (which surely deserves better than this) and make a huge mess on the floor that is both shameful and frightening.

As hard is it feels like it's going to be, I'm going to pull out the big guns here and quote The Eleanor Roosevelt: "You must do the things you think you cannot do."

With her words to under gird us, well, let's do this thing.

Finish for Fall

Step 1: Search and rescue.  I think this one may be painful. Go find all of the knitting projects that you have stuffed in bags, in closets, under the bed, etc.  All of them. 

Step 2: Line up and evaluate. Taking each unfinished project one at a time, make a list (either written or electronic).  On the list, put the name of the project, who it is being made for, and your estimate of completion percentage.

Step 3: Cull. I know this one will be painful. Examine closely each project.  Be honest. Be brutal.  Are they any that frankly don't deserve to take up valuable real estate?  Would they (and you) be better off if they were, well, FROGGED???  Then do it.  It's hard, I know.  Do it and don't look back.  You have better things in store and so does the yarn.  And the needles!

Step 4: Evaluate what's left after the culling. Adjust your written list as necessary.

Step 5: Take a break.  You deserve it.  But do NOT spend your break time trolling for patterns on Ravelry.

Step 6: Find the item on your list that will be easiest to finish first. Number the list in order of completion percentage.  EXCEPTIONS: Items that have a gift-giving deadline that will fall within the parameters of your being able to finish the project.  For example, if you have a scarf that you want to give your sister in Minnesota on her birthday in 2 weeks, and you estimate that you can finish the scarf in a week and a half, finish that first, even if you have a lace bookmark with no deadline that will take you only a week. As you finish the projects that take the least amount of time, you will give yourself the momentum to keep going, as you see that you CAN do it.

Step 7: I can't believe I have to say this to you, because by now you KNOW me and really this should be something you hear me say in your sleep already. 

------------------>KNIT EVERYDAY

Seriously.  Yesterday, I was so exhausted during the short time that I was home (and not cooking) that I only had time and energy to knit a few rows on a scarf, but there was no way I was going to let the busyness of the day rob me of what I love. There's so much value in plugging away at something consistently, every day, without fail. I know I say this a lot but until every knitter hears, I will keep on saying it. Knit everyday.  This is how you will finish those projects that you have dug out of hiding and listed and gone to all the trouble in the first place to even start!

Step 8: (This step can actually be done in conjunction with Steps 1-3, depending on the amount of time you have to devote to the process)

Since you have dug out all the knitting storage, go ahead and sort through the yarn. Is there yarn you regret buying or acquiring? It's ok to let it go--sell it, donate it, trade it, just get that negative thing out of your home. Knitting should be a lot of things, but "full of regret" is not one of them.   Is there yarn that needs to be listed in your stash on Ravelry (yep, pretty much ALL of mine)?  Then set aside some time to get that done, too.  Are there too many storage spots in your home that lead you to buy more yarn or needles because you forgot you had them because that closet is kinda dark in the back and you didn't want to dig through that bag anyway so it's just easier to buy more (hypothetically speaking)? Time to get it together and find out what's really back there.  You may find yet another UFO, but now you'll know what to do with it.

That's it.  That's all there is to it. It is no doubt easier to read (and type) than to do.  However, I'm off to my storage spots now (and there are many) and I'm going to forge ahead in the spirit of Eleanor, who tackled worse obstacles than my crazy pile of UFO's.  Check back next week for an update on my progress.  If you're planning to Finish for Fall along with me, leave a note in the comments--just say "I'm in" and I'll know I'm not alone.

A bit more about WWI

Ever since I wrote this post about World War I and the knitting associated with it, I have seen several other articles pop up around the internet about this topic and I thought I'd share.

This one from Australia is interesting in that it discusses the wool issues, covers the First World War through the Korean War, and has some great photos.

This one from Washington State is long but includes some great details about what sorts of things were knit during the war, like "wool helmets and vests, chest covers and fingerless mitts to allow trigger access." Socks (of course), sweaters and "mufflers" were also in demand. Everyone was knitting, expected to knit and discouraged from knitting for personal use. This article really gives you a sense of the pervasiveness of the wartime knitting and the urgency felt by knitters around the world who were asked to knit for the boys in the trenches.

Popular at the time was the notion of not wasting precious time that could be spent knitting.  This "bag of the hour" was both useful and "smart."  Also, note its air distingue [sic].  Très adorable!

I also discovered that there is a National WWI Museum here in the U.S.  As of this time they don't seem to have a knitting program like the National WWII Museum has, it still looks as though it has many interesting programs and exhibits. The next time you're in Kansas City, MO, check it out--and of course I'm going to want to hear all about it!

Some folks in England are filming a movie about WWI, and some knitters have banded together to knit costumes based on old patterns and recreations from old photos. Be careful following these links if you love history and knitting--I am still wiping the drool off my keyboard.

I will leave you with a Monday Medley of Patterns--all free. Holly Shaltz has a great website with patterns from the era, reinterpreted for modern knitters.  There's even a pattern for socks. 

You probably figured out that I'm fascinated by all this, so if you see anything else related to WWI out there that you think I might like, especially in commemoration of the 100th anniversary, let me know!

An Indigo History of my Own

We talk a lot about the history of indigo when we teach indigo dyeing, but I don't always get to say much about my own history with it.  If you've known me awhile, you've probably already heard it all (and even "been there, done that" along with me!), so bear with me just a bit as I recap.

After teaching several different knitting classes there, I was asked by the Charleston Museum to consider teaching a class on natural dyes.  My reply was "Sure, but can we just do indigo?"  I liked the focus of having the one dye to play with, plus it's a dyestuff that can be used without the necessity of hot water to set the color.  In a word, it was going to be simple, and I am a big fan of simple. It also had such a prominent spot in the history of Charleston, that I really just had to do it. History buffs are weird like that.

My first workshop was in April 2013 and it was a little scary (having never actually taught dyeing before) and a lot of fun.  We had a really diverse group that first time--a hat maker who has been featured in Martha Stewart, a couple of folks who had dyed with indigo before, and I think that was the class that also included a high school student whose teacher had suggested she take the workshop to supplement a school project. 

In the fall of last year I was privileged to attend, along with Museum staff members, a morning of indigo dyeing taught by a truly interesting individual, who knew more about indigo dyeing than anyone I'd ever met. My "indigo morning" helped solidify in me a love for the art of this dyestuff.

Since that first class, I've taught many more, both at the Museum and in my own home (including another school student who was doing a project that included Eliza Lucas Pinckney! I'm so proud of the teachers who are assigning these topics!!).  My most recent event was held at the Museum's Dill Sanctuary, which was probably the prettiest spot I've ever seen to teach or learn anything!

I have met some fascinating people, made some new friends (Hi, Wendy!) and been enriched so much by hearing the stories of folks who had come to the dye classes. 

Over the last two years of research, experimentation, practice and teaching, I have come to realize the uniqueness of this natural dye and its importance in the history of this world, this area, and my own life as well.  The dyeing, the people, the magic of it all--these things have made a difference in my journey and I am so excited at the prospect of getting to introduce indigo to more of you this October.  If you're interested, check out the info at the Museum's calendar and sign up soon because space is limited and, more importantly, I really don't want you to miss it!

Indigo reflections: On time

As I stand in my backyard, an unexpectedly gentle breeze blowing on this warm August morning in South Carolina, with my indigo dyeing equipment set up and another bunch of yarn and fabric about to experience the magic of indigo, I feel at once both primitive and very modern.  It is the irony of using ancient dyeing techniques in the 21st century, the juxtaposition of plastic 5-gallon buckets and rubber kitchen gloves with a dyestuff in use since at least 2400 B.C. It is the continuum of craft, of beauty, of art, of color.

One aspect of the irony of MY being involved with indigo is the amount of time and patience it requires (all of which are worth it. Totally.)  I'm not terribly good at waiting unless I have trained myself to see the value in the time as it passes.  I can too easily get impatient for something good to happen or to get on to my next project or to finish the task at hand. 

Indigo dyeing takes TIME. 

Unless you have a spot that is always dedicated to dyeing in your home or yard, there must be set up time.  The dye vat has to be prepped and the chemical reactions must occur (all in their own time) and the fabric or yarn must be made ready.  The time in the vat itself seems like the smallest portion of the process.  A mere 5 minutes in the greenish liquid then necessitates at least 15 or more minutes for oxidation.  Once the dyeing part is complete, comes the soaking in vinegar, the washing, the rinsing and, in the case of yarn, the multiple repetitions of the soaking, washing and rinsing in order for the excess dye to be removed.      It takes time.

Learning to love indigo and to understand it and learn the lessons it has to teach, takes time.  When I first began dyeing I was impressed with it, of course.  Years of dyeing Easter eggs and using fabric paint and painting walls and craft projects prove that I love crafts with color as much as the next gal.  But it wasn't until I kept at it and the weeks stretched into months and the months stretched into years (OK, as of now a year and a half), that I began to connect with the it.  No longer is this merely a method to turn fabric and yarn blue.  I could do that with a bottle of Rit Dye and have much more reliable, consistent, quick results.   It isn't just about the color, because if it were, then we would only use synthetic indigo, never the natural stuff that takes so long and can be a little moody like a teenager in the summer.  Indigo dyeing is a lot like teaching the skills involved in knitting.  It is something that cannot be hurried.  It sometimes takes tact and finesse and encouragement and nurturing to introduce dye to fiber or knitting to a newbie.  It takes time.

When I am spending time with my dye vat as I did today (and twice last week--now you know why all my house work hasn't been finished), I think about time.  I think about the time it takes to dye, the time it takes to learn from indigo, and the time that has passed over the many centuries--time in which indigo was the most prized of colors, the color of royalty, the color that was traded and revered and used as medicine and currency.  I am caught in the middle; I am the student, as indigo teaches me about its wealth and magic, and I am the teacher, passing on what I learn to others so that the continuum will last.  It is only a moment of time, yet it is my moment with indigo and as the sun comes over the giant, moss-draped Live Oak next door, it shines on my moment, on my modest place in the rich history of this dye stuff, and I am changed as surely as the fibers in my hands are now a deep, dark blue.