Sandra's Spiral Socks: just the facts, ma'am
I'm surprised knitting teachers don't start novice socknitters off with spiral socks. They are, to my mind (and hands), the easiest thing on the planet. No complicated heel turns. No worries about sizing. And you can drift down into a round toe and avoid Kitchenering altogether if that is your desire. (I never had a problem with Kitchener. Okay, so maybe I have to lock myself away when I do it but I do that anyway when I'm working so what's the big deal?)
That's one of the Magic Looped spiral socks I made for Sandra's birthday. The scan has a slightly greenish hue that's inaccurate but you get the idea. I only wish I could find the photo of the two completed socks but it's lost in the bowels of my scary laptop.
I'm a simple soul and since this was my first spiral sock I was entranced as the spiral began to slant its way around the growing body of the sock. I loved watching the striping unfold. I thoroughly adored the springiness of the wool, the stretchiness of the pattern. Let's face it, self-striping, self-patterning yarns were made for people like me who practically stand up and cheer when they see the brown coming to an end and a nice blue patch looming on the horizon.
So here are some details: the pattern is After Bertha from Socks Socks Socks and I am dimwitted enough to have found the process to be absolutely fascinating. The fact that I lucked into exactly the right yarn for it didn't hurt matters either: Regia 4 Fadig in Cacao, a beautiful blend of medium cocoa and that pure slightly earthy blue that works so surprisingly well with cocoas and pure browns.Stats: 66 stitches; Addi Turbos #1US; worked 3K3P pattern that takes a step over every fourth row. Couldn't be simpler. I did a round toe (embarrassingly simple but very pleasing aesthetically), wove in the ends, and I was done.
Here comes the mushy part: as I said, they were a birthday present for Sandra and once again I'm reminded of how deep the connection is whenever I make something for someone I love. I'm probably the least Zen-like woman you'll ever meet but there is a mindfulness to the process when you're knitting something for someone you love, a focus of concentration that eludes me far too often in real (read: non-knitting) life. The recipient is on my mind with every stitch along the way and the process turns into something much more than knit 3 purl 3.
End mushy part.