Bramble and Porridge. Mulch and Bracken. Bark and Mushroom. Fox and Mallard. Porridge and Cinnabar. (And two skeins of lichen St. Ives sock yarn I picked up at the same time because I never see this stuff for sale in the US, it’s inexpensive, and Nancy Bush likes it. ‘Nuff said.)

These are my first attempts at combining colors for mittens. After I’d taken this picture and mulled over the topic for several days, I came to the May chapter in The Knitter’s Almanac. Trust Elizabeth Zimmermann to have paved the way: “Color (and you may consider this to apply to the choice of wool for mittens) is a deeply subjective matter; in the tastes of various people it can vary infinitely. . . . Experiment with mittens, and exercise and expand your sense of color with them. Combine unusual colors, and find out if you like the result.” Another choice line: “Salmon-pink I can’t stand perhaps because it used to be the color of so much cheap underwear, but in smoked salmon it’s delicious, and it suits geraniums and zinnias.”

I, too, find I can love some colors in nature, but have no wish to apply them to my clothing. I bought salmon-colored zinnias at the market this morning, but you’ll find nothing that shade in my wardrobe (nor in my underwear drawer, thank you). In yarns, I have a deep affection for tweeds, perhaps because they capture more of the complexity of colors as they occur in nature. It’s the same effect I most admire in the master painters: the ability to see and capture a kaleidoscope of shades the human eye blends into one. Above my desk is a postcard of Vermeer’s Head of a Girl: her ochre robe, on closer examination, contains greens, rust reds, yellows. Some of my favorite paintings are snow scenes by the Impressionists, particularly Monet — that snow is blue, pink, terracotta, dove grey, and yet we see it as white. The heathery Jamieson’s Shetland Spindrift I’ve chosen for most of my mittens is as good an approximation of this color depth as I’ve seen in a yarn. I don’t know how they achieve it, but I think they must not bleach the natural color out of the wool before they dye it.

I have a lot to learn. I’ll be musing on color a lot this fall. Next time I hope to have some samples knitted up so I can experiment with how colors affect each other. In addition to the lot I’ve shown you above, I have some Rowan Yorkshire Tweed 4-Ply for a Fair Isle-inspired beret. After I started hearing laments from Zimmermaniacs eager to replicate Brooklyn Tweed’s gorgeous Seamless Hybrid sweater and unable to find the RYT DK, I realized that world supplies of this great-but-discontinued yarn really are starting to run short. So I hied myself to the LYS and spent at least twenty minutes cross-legged on the floor, playing with different color combinations of their odd balls. The mittens and the beret will be my self-imposed crash course in colorwork, and I’ll want your input on what works and what doesn’t.

Chez Blue Garter we like to keep a lot of irons in the fire. Since I’m leading the Zimmermania charge, I also need to stay on top of my EZ projects. Besides the Fishtrap Aran, which I intend to cast on today, I’ve also started a Baby Surprise jacket for the firstborn of one of my dearest childhood friends. Little Cam is due in just a couple of weeks, so I need to knit fast! And on Tuesday I start two courses at the local university, so I’ll have homework on top of the knitting. I intend to become extremely proficient at knitting while reading.

By the way, it’s never too late to join Zimmermania — just send me an email!