I’m working on the second prototype of the Islander sweater, and thought you might like to see how it looks before the sleeves go on. See the horizontal stripes of colored yarn at each side below the yoke? I’m going to pull those out, pick up the loose stitches above and below, and knit them in the round down to the cuffs. You can also see the short rows above, which lift the back of the neck by about an inch.

The yarn, in case you’re curious, is Koigu leftovers from my Andamento sock and Knit Picks Essential Sock in, I think, Charcoal. I wouldn’t call the latter an ideal yarn for this project. It’s a little thin and hard, not bouncy like the Koigu, but I wanted to use up some stash and I thought the color would work well against the Koigu scraps. Actually, I ran out of the original leftover color a couple of ridges before the end of the yoke, so I broke into a new skein of harmonious blue/mauve Koigu that’s also been marinating in the sock yarn drawer for a good long time.

And once I had that new skein wound up, I couldn’t resist casting on a new sock. Actually two socks. It’s going to be a sock inside a sock, which I’ve wanted to try since I read the passage in War and Peace where Anna Makarovna pulls a second finished sock out from within the visible one, to the amazement and delight of the children. Katrin thinks I’m nuts. But I can’t be the only one who’s intrigued. At least five other people on Ravelry are. I’m knitting the ribbed cuffs separately, but I’ll show you a picture when I join them!

Thanks to everyone who has responded to the Knit Local idea. We’ve got a new group flourishing on Ravelry – invite yourself in if you’re interested! I envision it as a resource for crafters trying to find local producers, research the origins of various yarns, discuss local yarn substitutions for popular patterns, and spread the word about small companies they love, as well as a showcase of beautiful knits made from local materials. Perhaps it will spawn swaps as fiber enthusiasts from different regions exchange hard-to-find local gems.

While I’m dreaming about the directions Knit Local could take, I’ve also been knitting. I’m thisclose to finishing my Indigo Ripples skirt: only another ten inches of the (seemingly interminable) bind-off row remain, and the quest for a suitable drawstring, should I opt out of the five feet of i-cord.

I’ve got a cabled hat going for my brother’s belated birthday present, in a lovely alpaca grown in our hometown by a farmers’ collective called Honey Lane Farms. This stuff comes in 52 colors, and it’s soft as a baby’s bottom.

Speaking of babies, I’m bog-bog-bogging along on a Baby Bog Jacket for the little man across the street, whose first birthday is next week. I’ve passed the “thumb trick” arm divide and I’m getting ready to toss in a handful of shortrows and a measure of shoulder shaping. All that garter stitch makes good carpool knitting, now that school is back in session.

Oh, school. The year promises a steady rolling boil in all the pots on the stove, requiring precise timing and keen attention, but will be fulfilling if I can keep a cool head while coaxing all the projects to fruition. I haven’t even counted the minutiae I’m responsible for this year on top of the major publishing efforts; I’m just taking it as earning my stripes in this place where everyone gives all they’ve got for the kids and one another and the broader community.

Besides, the sun is out this week, and September in the Northwest, when it’s good, is very, very good indeed. All that blue knitting might reflect inaccurately on my mental state, so here’s a glimpse of what’s next:

I’m not going to blog it just yet because it’s a secret something for a special someone with an approaching birthday who sometimes reads here. But tune in on Ravelry to glimpse the pretty in the next couple of weeks.

Finally, thanks to everyone who’s written with kudos and excitement about my Footlights Cardigan. I’m loving the absinthe-green version just as much as the yellow one.

(Even if I did accidentally knit an extra repetition of the lace pattern on the second sleeve.)

Thank you, each and every one of you, for your comforting words about Selkie. It’s so hard to believe she’s gone when I’m still vacuuming her fur out from under the table. My parents brought her down for a visit just a week ago when they came to collect another truckload of my grandmother’s furniture from my garage. I’m glad I got to see her so recently, to give her love and pats and praise.

During the effort to move the furniture, my father spent hours breaking down the excess packaging, and the wind blew some heavy cardboard over to squash the tender young lupines I planted in the patch of soil by the garage. I put them out in homage to a favorite book from my childhood, Barbara Cooney’s Miss Rumphius. (I loved saying Rumphius. What a name. Someday I’m going to design a comfy cardigan and call it after that character. I just had the thought that if the book were coming to print today, surely the marketing department would insist on a different title – The Lupine Lady, perhaps. Miss Rumphius isn’t a very enticing and obvious sell to grown-ups.) Anyway, the foliage on one side was all busted, but the main stalk seemed to be bent rather than broken, so we propped it up with a sturdy stick and hoped for the best. Here’s the same plant, ten days later:

Isn’t it marvelous how things grow back?

In an effort to jolly myself out of the glummery of the past week, I finished cutting my Leafy Snowball fabric and laid it all out.

Never mind the little seafoam-green squares; they’re not staying. I’ll find either a more olive-ish green or a grey-blue of similar value. But here’s the thing: I have LOTS of squares left over. I could make this quilt twice as big, and I just might. I’ll need more of the border fabric, which I think I can get; the calico for the back I think is all gone at the store, but I might be able to hunt it down somewhere else. Or I could just have the back be half something else. Here’s a medium-large cat for scale:

You’ll be glad to know I didn’t think about the layout for this quilt for more than the three minutes it took me to crawl around setting down squares willy-nilly. I wish it had more large-print fabrics, but I’m not going to worry about it too much. It seems I’m helpless before an array of beautiful calicoes, so that’s what’s here.

Oh, and lest you should think I’ve stopped knitting entirely:

Gah! Ten days gone without a post! Granted, I’ve been on the road, and I don’t travel with a laptop because I haven’t had a working battery in about eight years. But every now and then unexpected friends and relations reveal themselves as readers here, and it makes me remember that distant folks I love do check up on me in this space. And that makes me want to be a better, more consistent poster. This blog needs to become something more than it is now: I hardly know what, but I’m giving it some thought. I never remember when my blogiversary (should that be anniblogary?) is, but Blue Garter will enter its third year in the next few months. I want it to have more knitting content – more patterns, a proper gallery of finished handknits – but I want it to have more personal content, too. I want to improve the quality of the writing. I’ve meant to do these things for a long time, and my several jobs and mountain of knitting projects tend to interfere, but I know I could make more productive use of the time I do have. None of this, however, is your problem. So let’s forget the soul-searching for now and cut straight to the good stuff: squishy little edible people in handknits.

Hello. I am seven weeks old. My new hat is way too big for me.

And, dudes, I’m pretty sure my blankie is 100% acrylic.

Good thing I live across the street from someone who finds me irresistible and will knit me merino sweaters as fast as I can spoil them with bodily fluids and mashed banana.