by Ardeana Hamlin
of The Weekly Staff
I rarely buy yarn anymore, even though I haven’t stopped knitting. Instead of stockpiling more skeins, I am concentrating on using what I already have. Thus, my current project is fueled by two hanks of wool yarn I purchased at Bartlett’s mill in Harmony on the hottest day of July last summer. It’s rough wool, dark brown, the kind of yarn that will keep feet warm. I especially like buying yarn at Bartlett’s because the mill has been around since the early 1800s and even though I can’t prove it, I like to think that my Herrick ancestors, who were early settlers of Harmony, took their fleeces to the mill to be processed into skeins of yarn making me one more ripple in the long river of family tradition.
My older son is the intended recipient of the socks I am knitting. He works outdoors in the coldest weather and on weekends, he and his family are out sledding, walking, snowmobiling and otherwise enjoying the pleasures cold and snow. He needs warm socks.
“Where are my socks?” my son asked when he saw the socks I had knit his wife and son. I was prepared for that question. I showed him the yarn I had earmarked for his socks and assured him I planned to start knitting his socks that very week. He liked the yarn and its color, but had one request — that the legs of the socks be at least 12 inches long so the tops would turn down over his boots in true Mainer fashion, the way his grandfathers wore their boot socks. See what I mean about tradition?
The only sock pattern I ever use is the one my sister gave me many years ago. She received it from her mother-in-law. It is a 1940s vintage pattern so well-written that if you follow the instructions, the mystery of turning the heel, decreasing for the ankle gusset and decreasing for the toe disappears. Sock knitting was my sister’s main focus, though she also knit mittens and caps. Following in her knitting path, since her death 19 years ago, is for me one of the pleasures of knitting. Another tradition to carry on.
True, the socks are knit on four No. 5 double-point needles — the one’s my sister used — which can be daunting for beginners, but once you figure out how that all works, it’s easy
The thing I like about knitting socks is that it’s mindless enough to do while watching a DVD movie, or carrying on a conversation while knitting the leg part of the sock, which is simply knitting around and around and around. Knit 2, purl 2. The knitting mantra of my grandmother, my mother and my sister.
Turning the heel, picking up stitches for the gusset and starting on the gusset decreases takes a little more concentration, but once that part is done, the instructions call for knitting every row — around and around and around until the foot is as long as it needs to be. Once you get to the “toeing off” part — decreasing stitches to shape the toe — things go very quickly.
The very last part of the sock to require my full attention is the point where I have 12 stitches left. I use a crochet hook to weave these stitches one into the other to give the toe a smooth finish.
My yarn stash may be lighter by two skeins, but I still have a long way to go before the bottom of the tote containing my cache of yarn becomes visible.