I learned something from working with the bunny scarf yarn and of course a new pathway in learning is rapidly taking me back in time . . .
The yarn is yummy, yummy and soft. It's a blend of alpaca and angora with a tad of mohair and a strand of silk. And it is unplied. I didn't really think about these things when I was knitting the bunny scarf, because of the lace pattern and the larger needles I was using. I was just careful in picking up the fine, fine strand of silk and called it good. Emboldened by my success, however . . .
I grabbed a ball of alpaca, silk, cashmere (from the same seller) and discovered FOUR strands, unplied. Undaunted, I cast on and began knitting . . . and HATED it. Knitting is supposed to be relaxing, right? Peaceful, meditative . . . NOT! I was cussing a blue streak and two rows into the pattern frogged the whole darn thing, and considered trashing the yarn. Not at all a positive frame of mind, I tell you.
Walked away, played on facebook for a while . . . then had a brilliant idea. I went to the yarn closet and grabbed the really cheap, not well balanced drop spindle I had gotten with a drop spindle kit, and decided to ply the yarn. Never mind the fact that I have used a drop spindle a total of three times in my life, two with an alarmingly spectacular lack of success (the results of my attempt to spin an ounce of alpaca "fluff" look like diseased dreadlocks) and one with some merino and someone else's better quality spindle (with somewhat more success). Nonetheless, i decided that this yarn MUST be plied. I did a little reading . . . enough to know that I would ply the yarn anti-clockwise, and I was off.
Success! Mostly, anyway. I did manage to create a nice ball of plied yarn out of the four strands I started with. I put quite a bit too much twist in the yarn, making it really difficult to knit. However, I then turned around and replied it with a ball of the "bunny scarf" yarn, and I did not put anywhere near as much twist, resulting in a ball of lovely thick and thin earth tones, and I am now knitting a hat with it. The hat is three quarters of the way done, and I am really liking the results.
Which takes me back to the title of this post: I have been bitten! Success with the yarn plying gives me confidence that "spindling" will be easier than I had thought. Of course, it will take forever to spin enough yarn to knit anything bigger than a placemat (shaking my head and wondering if it makes any sense at all), not giving me anything like instant gratification . . . maybe I asked at some time for patience? If so, the universe is certainly giving the opportunity to learn patience (grimacing).
I took a spinning class many years ago . . . and could not get my feet and hands to work in sync enough to spin anything better than a 1970's version of dreadlocks. The little bit of yarn I actually succeeded in spinning could have been used to inflict serious injury on home invaders, and probably should have been registered as a deadly weapon. I have wanted for some time now to learn again. I'm not sure that my hand-foot coordination is any better, but I know a lot more about how to relax than I did 30 years ago. And my logical brain works better . . . plus, success breeds success, and I have had some success with the drop spindle.
And I'm beginning to drool a little about the concept of making yarn in colors I adore, vs. putting up with someone else's short repeats, or funky colors that look good in the skein and something else entirely on the needles . . .
The yarn is yummy, yummy and soft. It's a blend of alpaca and angora with a tad of mohair and a strand of silk. And it is unplied. I didn't really think about these things when I was knitting the bunny scarf, because of the lace pattern and the larger needles I was using. I was just careful in picking up the fine, fine strand of silk and called it good. Emboldened by my success, however . . .
I grabbed a ball of alpaca, silk, cashmere (from the same seller) and discovered FOUR strands, unplied. Undaunted, I cast on and began knitting . . . and HATED it. Knitting is supposed to be relaxing, right? Peaceful, meditative . . . NOT! I was cussing a blue streak and two rows into the pattern frogged the whole darn thing, and considered trashing the yarn. Not at all a positive frame of mind, I tell you.
Walked away, played on facebook for a while . . . then had a brilliant idea. I went to the yarn closet and grabbed the really cheap, not well balanced drop spindle I had gotten with a drop spindle kit, and decided to ply the yarn. Never mind the fact that I have used a drop spindle a total of three times in my life, two with an alarmingly spectacular lack of success (the results of my attempt to spin an ounce of alpaca "fluff" look like diseased dreadlocks) and one with some merino and someone else's better quality spindle (with somewhat more success). Nonetheless, i decided that this yarn MUST be plied. I did a little reading . . . enough to know that I would ply the yarn anti-clockwise, and I was off.
Success! Mostly, anyway. I did manage to create a nice ball of plied yarn out of the four strands I started with. I put quite a bit too much twist in the yarn, making it really difficult to knit. However, I then turned around and replied it with a ball of the "bunny scarf" yarn, and I did not put anywhere near as much twist, resulting in a ball of lovely thick and thin earth tones, and I am now knitting a hat with it. The hat is three quarters of the way done, and I am really liking the results.
Which takes me back to the title of this post: I have been bitten! Success with the yarn plying gives me confidence that "spindling" will be easier than I had thought. Of course, it will take forever to spin enough yarn to knit anything bigger than a placemat (shaking my head and wondering if it makes any sense at all), not giving me anything like instant gratification . . . maybe I asked at some time for patience? If so, the universe is certainly giving the opportunity to learn patience (grimacing).
I took a spinning class many years ago . . . and could not get my feet and hands to work in sync enough to spin anything better than a 1970's version of dreadlocks. The little bit of yarn I actually succeeded in spinning could have been used to inflict serious injury on home invaders, and probably should have been registered as a deadly weapon. I have wanted for some time now to learn again. I'm not sure that my hand-foot coordination is any better, but I know a lot more about how to relax than I did 30 years ago. And my logical brain works better . . . plus, success breeds success, and I have had some success with the drop spindle.
And I'm beginning to drool a little about the concept of making yarn in colors I adore, vs. putting up with someone else's short repeats, or funky colors that look good in the skein and something else entirely on the needles . . .
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