Fog and Frog

Yesterday morning we had fog and I felt compelled to take a picture, any picture, but being in robe and slippers somewhat limited the scope of my artistic impressions, since the slippers are still on the new side and I wasn't keen on introducing pristine footwear to the harsh exigencies of the Great Muddy Beyond, so my focal range was What I Could See From My Front Door. Guess I could have taken a picture of the bamboo in the back yard, but really, there'd be nothing much to say about it besides "This is the bamboo in my back yard", so I didn't. Also I didn't think of it until after the fog had lifted.

This is a view of the house of the neighbour who woke me at 2 one morning because she had considerately removed herself from the inside of her house in which her children were sleeping so that she could have a very loud phone fight with her boyfriend without disturbing the children (who of course can sleep through anything), and instead woke up the entire neighourhood. Not that I fault her stupid choice or anything.

It's foggy.

It cleared to an uncharacteristically bright, hot, muggy day. When I went for my walk, I noticed that the humidity seemed to collect and concentrate air temperature differentials, so I'd pass through warmer and cooler pockets. Very odd. 

Sunday I over-dyed a large skein of dog (husky I think) and wool, and extended the cuff to see if I liked the two yarns together. I did. The teenagers approved too, even the fashion maven.

This meant that I had to commit to the chosen course of action: removing part of the bottom welt in order to reuse the yarn to extend the sleeves, which mean that I had to Commit to the Cut. I measured and counted and checked and rechecked:

After The Snip, the yarn ends had to be pulled through each stitch individually to undo the separating row, and every ten or so stitches, I'd slide them onto my needle. It helped to have steamed the welt before, so that although the yarn was very kinky, it also meant that each stitch was well-formed and relaxed and would not tend to try to unravel. No stitches laddered themselves away.

Once the two parts were separated, I was able to continue to tug on the yarn to undo the knitting, and rewound it into a little kinky ball. Looks like enough for half a cuff and an extra inch of sleeve before each cuff.

Yup, it was. I ended up adding two rows of a handpainted singles yarn between the two parts of each ribbed section as a bridge, and also to make it look like an intentional design feature. While my initial choice was for a sold-colour cardigan, I'm happy with the way it turned out, as it's still basically monochromatic, and it fits me the way I want it to.

I would wear it today if only it were colder.

And then I made a sample for the class I'm teaching at one of the local guilds next month. The coloured parts are seed beads and pearls, and I'm so in love with the seeds, which are copper-lined light amethyst aurora borealis. This means that the actual glass of the bead is a lightish, somewhat warm purple with an iridescent surface finish, and the core of the bead is copper, resulting in a wonderfully deep and complex shade. Paired with matte black rather than with shiny black it would look even better.