Getting Even

Too many years have elapsed since I first learned to knit and purl, and so I don’t remember if there was an aha moment when my awkwardness morphed into the smooth rhythm that produces even stitches.  But going by my more recent experiences in learning new techniques, I assume there must have been.  I also assume that, back when I was 13 and knit my first simple practice squares of stockinette under the guiding eye of my grandmother, I must have caught on to things a lot more quickly than I do now or I might not have become a knitter in the first place.

It seems to have taken me forever to manage grafting, and the pain of learning how to do it still gives me a moment of pause as I thread the yarn needle to close a sock toe or some other opening that needs to be invisible.  When I started to knit socks on dpns, there was a noticeable loose stitch at the point where I changed needles.  This persisted for some time until one day it simply disappeared and the stitches in the circular tube were as even as those I could manage on straight needles.

I didn’t think that it took me too long to manage stranded knitting, with one color in each hand, but the stitches produced from the yarn I held in my right hand, knitting in unfamiliar English style, did seem bigger than the stitches knit from the yarn in my left hand, knit Continental style.  I thought this was “normal” because, according to the rules of yarn dominance, those right-hand stitches should pop from the fabric.  It was only when I began to work Sirdal’s second sleeve that I saw that my two-color fabric on the body and first sleeve was lumpy.  And something in my hand-brain coordination must have finally clicked because Sirdal’s second sleeve looked wonderfully even—as even as my knitting in one color, in my preferred combined style.  You can see the difference here: the sleeve on the left has nice, even stitches; the sleeve on the right doesn’t.

Unfortunately, this epiphany took place after I had finished the first sleeve.  I have one beautiful sleeve, and one that isn’t.  And to make matters worse, the first sleeve I knit is looser than the second, making it somewhat larger and longer.

The instructions I’m following for knitting Norwegian sweaters recommend blocking the sleeves before cutting the slit in the body that will accommodate them, and blocking did improve things—but not completely.  There is about a quarter inch difference between the sleeves, and the second sleeve is still tighter than the first.  Having ripped and reknit parts of this sweater more times than I like to think about, and because Sirdal is now a bit more than two years in the making, I’m going to assemble the sweater pieces as they are.  This was my “practice” stranded sweater—a preparation for my future knitting on my Philosopher’s Wool and Alice Starmore sweaters.  And as a practice sweater, it has worked out just fine.

I’m now ready for the supreme challenge of steeking—scheduled for Saturday morning (if I’m not shoveling snow).  And maybe if I can accomplish that, I can go on to finish Sirdal and actually wear it before spring, perhaps standing at an angle so that the differences in the sleeves aren’t as obvious to an observer as they are to me.

 

 

Comments

[Dorothy]

I think you'll find that as time goes on, those irregularities will even out. I look at my first stranded project now, which has been washed many times, and I'm amazed at the evenness of the stitches. I'm quite sure they weren't that even to begin with. You may know, but the general public will not. They will just be looking at one gorgeous sweater!!

[Wool Enough]

No one else will notice, and the stitches will even out over time. And I believe you took on an extra challenge by using white as a contrasting color. White is such an extreme contrast with any dark color that even tiny differences become more noticeable. Had you knit the sweater in blue and green, for instance, you might never have observed any irregularities. So give yourself an extra pat on the back for this huge accomplishment.

[(Another/Not That) Joan]

I think we tend to be our own worst critics, and as Dorothy and Wool Enough said before me, it will all be fine with a little time.

It didn't snow this weekend, did it? I'm looking forward to a picture-laden post recounting your first adventure with steeking!

[Caroline M]

A few washings will sort everything out and no-one else would ever notice a quarter inch difference on a sweater sleeve. The trousers I buy for my son often have one leg half an inch longer than the other, I wouldn't have noticed except that I had to take them up.