Knitting Perls of Wisdom

"Out of all the incredibly awesome facets of folk knowledge," one might ask, "why did you pick knitting?"

me, knitting; Rachel with her project

A few answers come to mind. For one, it is a skill of fabrication. I may be able to troubleshoot and repair electronics, configure and maintain servers, and elicit desirable behaviors from the Linux kernel, but I can't do much in the real world. A knit cap can really keep the real you warm! It's almost magic to me when raw materials are brought to life as finished goods.

Another reason is that it's a soft reminder of my recently departed mom. She loved knitting--it's what kept her sitting still during Relief Society.

Yet another motive is belied by the facts that I consider it a feminine activity and that I'm normally physically awkward: knitting is outside of my comfort zone. (Rachel's husband mentioned that, had he any extra time, he would teach me the much-more-masculine art of crochet. :) It was quite entertaining to get guff from my roommates when I returned to my apartment carrying a large spool of yarn and a pair of shiny fuchsia no. 5 knitting needles.



When I asked my friend Rachel to teach me how to knit, she was quite happy to--in spite of having a huge knitting project due in a competition on Thursday. (I'm still not entirely sure what one can do with 800 yards of yarn and still be sane--apparently sweaters are one possible result. :) As a matter of fact, she was even excited to get me started!

This love for her hobby seems to me to be tied to the mother-tongue nature of knitting. She had learned it from her mom and sisters, and she enjoys knitting with other like-minded individuals both in Provo and beyond.

Starting with a slip knot

The process began with a simple slip knot. Now, you'd expect an Eagle Scout to get this right, but I was flummoxed. (It's been 6 years, OK? ;) A short demonstration, one or two failed attempts, and I had it. As it turns out, this is the first "stitch" after a manner.

One of the difficulties I ran into consistently was that I would try to reverse engineer the processes. Why are we knotting this like so? How will this fit into the finished product? Does this look right? What sorts of knots am I tying? If I drop a loop, what are all the implications and recovery techniques required to restore just-such-a-loop? Wait, my brain can't process all this data! Help! (At this point she'd reach over, twist the yarn, slip it back into place, and chuckle softly at my dazed-and-confused face.)

In spite of my little side tracks (which her nerdy self tolerated nicely), I found casting off to be fairly easy. She taught me a simple formula for wrapping the yarn around my fingers, twisting, and picking up a loop with the needle.

Part way through my first row knitting

Twenty five loops later, it was time for my first knit. (Alas, the separate languages that folk-knowledge specialists speak is too large a subject for this post.) Ah, how awkward it was! You see, you have to almost drop each stitch in order to make it work.

It took a second session with my good friend James to learn how to continue. See, a knit is an asymmetric knot, so to maintain a consistent look to the piece you knit one direction and perl in the other--a sort of reversed knit. Now I know enough to get to the end...and then I'll be able to ask someone for help casting off.

Close to the end of my second row, perling

Rachel's eagerness for sharing her talent is something I admire. I think it parallels the delineation between Ursula LeGuin's father and mother tongues. An enthusiasm and vibrance attended her knitting that wasn't present when I asked for help with my mathematical proofs class last semester.

Another curious effect of knitting is that its repetitive nature lends itself to conversation. This time seemed perfect for talking about anything, and I imagine it has been used over the centuries (possibly millenia in the Indus Valley) for exactly that--passing perls of folk knowledge. You could even say that generations are knit together by it.

:)