pattern: Waving Lace Socks, Evelyn Clark, from 25 Favorite Socks
yarn: superwash BFL merino, from Collette’s Etsy Shop, in Stellar’s Jay
needles: size 1 dpns
dates: July 2 – September 13
verdict: These socks have caused me to start coming to terms with my love-hate relationship with sock-making.
what I love:
-the singular beauty of a slipped-stitch heel flap
-the magic of turning a heel
– and, of course, the portability
what I loathe:
I can’t seem to get the fit right.
But what is the deal with me and too-long socks? This is the second pair I’ve made myself that have ended up about half an inch too long, and I don’t know how I can keep making the same mistake. And I know myself – I’m not going to go back any time soon and rip out the toe and the extra half inch and reknit them. And part of that is because of one final realization I’ve made:
Knitted socks just aren’t that useful to me. I know that at one time they were one of the most practical things a person could make. But now, they are definitely a luxury item. And I’m beginning to think they are a luxury I just don’t have the time for. I certainly enjoy the actual knitting of them. But in terms of final product, I would be much better off with, say, a sweater. Or a hat. Or mittens. Or a scarf. Or even a shawl. Seriously. Right now I am thinking of knitted socks as even less practical than a knitted shawl (this could have something to do with the shawl I intend to finish and wear for our niece’s wedding this fall).
Still, I love these socks. Love them beyond what’s reasonable. Love them despite the fact that they have disappointed me (or, more accurately, that I have disappointed myself by not making them to fit). I love them because of where they were knit, and when, and what they got me through.
These were intended to be for my sockapalooza pal. I had chosen this colorway because I thought it would be a nice match for blue jeans. I decided to make them my main vacation knit, and then it struck me that the colors were also reminiscent of the blue-green water of the Emerald Coast, where I was headed. That helped me make my decision about a pattern – the Waving Lace looked like little ocean waves; all the more so in these colors.
(not a great shot, due in small part to the fact that the two lifeguards below the blue umbrella in the bottom of the picture were eyeing me like I was nuts, and then point-blank asked me what I was doing)
After Little Buddha’s accident, I didn’t pick up the needles again at the beach. Honestly, I was in such a state of shock and horror I’m not sure how I did anything at all other than stare at him, hug everyone every chance I got, replay scenes from the accident in my head, and cry. But as the shock began to subside, I started feeling the need for the needles again, so again I knit. Only now I knew I could not give these socks away. They felt too intimately connected with that beach, that beach house, that time with my family. I needed them. And knitting them helped me feel “normal” again. Knit on through all adversity, Elizabeth Zimmerman said. And so I did.
So yes, these socks are a luxury. A loose-fitting luxury that remind me every time I look at them or wear them of how very lucky I am for what I have that I almost didn’t get to keep.