The yarn I bought the other day has inspired me.
There’s not much I like more than crispy, hard-wearing sock yarn. There’s something about the texture that makes me so happy even if it’s not the softest thing ever and in the space of two days the combination of colour and texture spurred me into this sock.
I am halfway down the calf of the other sock and realised I know my leg and skinny ankles so well that I can throw out a sock without thinking too hard. This is how I knit this sock (which is high enough to wear with my Doc Martens):
400ish yards pretty sock yarn
2.75mm needles (preferably wood)
A foot on which to put the sock
- Cast on a multiple of 4 – for me I usually do 60, but as this sock is longer I’m doing 64.
- Do two-ish inches your ribbing of choice. I like 2×2 but 1×1 is fine and even 3×1 if you’re feeling adventurous.
- Switch to stockinette. Forget you’re doing stockinette halfway through the row and go back to ribbing. Curse enthusiastically. Tink and return to stockinette.
- Knit about two inches plain stockinette, then decrease at the beginning of the row every three rows until you’re down to 60.
- Admire the shapely calf curve.
- Knit until you’re about as long as you want it, then remember how skinny your ankles are and decrease another two for luck.
- Do a heel flap in eye of partridge until it looks roughly square, then pick up the side stitches and curse because despite years of experience you still forgot to turn the heel.
- Go back and turn the heel. Do the dance of joy.
- Pick up the stitches on the sides of the heel flap, realise it’s uneven in numbers, shrug and decrease an extra stitch.
- Decrease the gusset stitches every two rows until you’re back to 60.
- Knit until it reaches the bottom of your long monkey toes. Do another couple of rows for good luck.
- Decrease the toe stitches – first every other row (3 times), then every row until there’s either ten or eight stitches left.
- Kitchener the last stitches with sweat on your brow.
- Weave in the ends. Triumph!
Then you have to repeat all of that again, hoping against hope that the sock ends up roughly the same length as the other one. Somehow I never succeed in this, not even when the pattern repeats say there should be exactly the same stitches in each leg. I’m pretty sure it’s magic. Dark, bad magic.
Is your sock process anything like the above?