I love purple thistles. The adoration probably started when I visited Scotland where it is the national flower. Yes, they are prickly, yes, they take over wild areas, but the blooms are stunning and grow tall and strong.


I love purple thistles. The adoration probably started when I visited Scotland where it is the national flower. Yes, they are prickly, yes, they take over wild areas, but the blooms are stunning and grow tall and strong.


I had another knitter who wanted to talk brioche knitting, so I had to brush up on my skills. I found a beautiful variegated yarn and decided to work from the inside and the outside of the skein, which was stunning done in the two-color brioche ribbing.

The color shifts are stunning, but the mistakes in the knit were not. I have a 10 second rule: if a casual observer can’t see the mistake in 10 seconds don’t fix it. My mistakes added up and overwhelmed the rule.

The yarn I’m working with is delicate, ripping out the knitting would have made the yarn unusable. Continuing on with all the mistakes was unthinkable, so I bound off and am going to try again.
And yes, those are pictures of two different cats on my lap. I have become a battle ground in cat chess.
I love knitting two socks at the same time on two circular needles, but I forget how to do the initial setup every time. Every. Time. So to help my future self, here is what worked this time (after many trials and errors.)


With the first sock cast on and divided onto two separate circular needles, I cast on 66 stitches for the second sock and transferred all the stitches to a stitch holder.


For me, the trickiest part is getting the two socks in the same direction on the needles, then keeping the stitches untwisted as I join the first row. After that, for me, it is smooth sailing. I never cross the two circular needles, always using the ends of one needle set to knit half of one sock, then half of the other sock (remember to switch yarn sources for each sock, so they stay separate.)
On this particular sock set, I will be knitting a 3×3 rib to start.
I’ve been twining with plant bast fibers (the long ones from the stems of plants), and wondered if I could twine long wool. I selected some Teeswater from my stash that has a staple length around 5-8 inches, grabbed a sponge and a spray bottle of water, and started twining. There was a bumpy learning curve, especially since I decided to learn to twine left handed to get an opposite twist. I wanted an S twist direction because my current favorite nålbinding stitch has a bias Z twist, and I thought the opposite twist yarn would help. It didn’t really.

As I write this post, I’m wondering if the twist in my work is the stitch, or the method of construction I’m attempting. I’m working in the round, which is typical for nålbinding, but I’m working around a long base chain, which is a little different. I’ll keep on and see if things even out, either as I go, or after I block the finished work.
The exciting part of this project is there are no joins in the yarn, rather, the yarn is created as I go.
Awhile back I rough shaped several needles for nålbinding from deer antler I purchased from a neighbor. I need a smaller diameter nål for a new project, so did the final shaping and polishing with progressive grits of sandpaper on one.

To make the nål I used a bandsaw to split the antler into narrow sections, then used a band sander to shape. The holes were drilled with a drill press. To get the elongated oval hole, I drilled two circular holes next to each other and then used the drill bit to mostly remove the remaining points. To finish, I shaped it using 120 grit sandpaper, then refined with 320 and finished with 400 grit sandpaper. I tested the smoothness of the holes and sides by running it through a wad of unspun wool.