Brisingamen

I’ve fussed over this design for a long time. I’ve knit it 3 times, and I’ve had a small army of knitters test the pattern. Now, I’m finally ready to release it!

Brisingamen lined hat – photographs by Lars Bjertrup, Wendy Colding, and yours truly.

The Brisingamen hat is lined all over, and has a design that fell into place when many little pieces came together.

The yarn, for one thing. I’ve long dyed on the Norne base, a single ply pure wool yarn (700 yd / 3.53 oz). It has a very slight stiffness that makes it perfect for lace knitting. I hate knitting lace with very tiny, slippery, unmanageable yarn. Lots of such fine and expensive yarns exist, and people knit huge shawls out of it, it’s just not my cup of tea… The only problem is that Norne is not a very soft yarn.

The solution: knitting only the outside in Norne. Lace is (yea, that goes without saying) full of holes, so the lining solves two problems: it makes the hat warm, and the inside soft. The lining is knit using a new yarn I recently started dyeing: Bestla, a 65% merino and 35% silk mix (656 yd / 3.53 oz). It is amazingly soft. I’m very sensitive to itchy wool, and I find it very soft.

Another big part is the lace pattern. The overall pattern repeat came from a Japanese stitch library, but I fiddled a lot with it.

The first prototype, knit in white, turned out child-sized:

Dagmar wearing the first Brisingamen hat. She’s 7, so even with her thick hair, her head is smaller than an adult’s.

The final version has cables between the large lace motifs:

The Brisingamen hat in madder dyed yarn. Photo by Lars Bjertrup.

The large motifs gradually transition into smaller forms, and end in a rosette of small cables:

The crown decreases.

Finally, there’s the construction of the lining. Care should always be taken when claiming you’ve invented something new, but I have never seen other patterns that use this construction. I started with two provisional cast ons. After knitting a bit, they are knit together. Now, the brim is knit from one set of stitches, and from there, the outside of the hat. Later, the other set of stitches is used to knit the lining.

The lining, soft and seamless.

The result is a hat with double fabric everywhere. Lightweight, but warm, and above all else, soft inside. It will be too much if I toot my own horn any more now, but I really am happy about this design.

You can buy the pattern on Ravelry or have a look at the naturally dyed knitting kits in my Etsy shop.

Læs dette indlæg på dansk

Hypogymnia Lichen Windfall

I return from many of my walks with pockets full of lichen windfall. One of the common finds under trees is two slightly different species of Hypogymnia, a good dye lichen.

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Lichen windfall is perfect for dyeing, since it does no damage to just pick up the fallen lichens. I’m therefore writing a small series of posts on the different species of lichens typically found in windfall, and I’ve already written about Ramalina fastigiata.

This time, I’ll have a look at Hypogymnia physodes and Hypogymnia tubulosa, two common species that are closely related (that’s why part of the name is the same). Also, they do look alike – both are grey-green and foliose (flattened, leaf-like). Hypogymnia physodes, here seen covering a small branch, has flat lobes, sometimes with soredia on the outer part. Soredia is one of the way that lichens can reproduce, and break through the surface in lots of little dots, making the surface look grainy or powdery. In Hypogymnia species, the soredia are found on the bottom side, which folds up on the tips of the lobes, making the grainy lower surface visible:

Hypogymnia physodes covering a small branch. Detail on the right shows the lobe tips folded up, displaying the graininess because of the soredia.

Hypogymnia tubulosa looks a lot like Hypogymnia physodes, but has hollow lobes. In the right side of the image below, the hollowness is visible since I cut one of the lobes:

Hypogymnia tubulosa with a cut lobe on the right side.

Both species are very common, and grow in many places, including on trees, stones, and wooden surfaces. They like growing on acidic substrates, and Dobson’s “Lichens, An Illustrated Guide to the British and Irish Species” mentions that Hypogymnia physodes is among the species least sensitive to sulfur dioxide pollution. Hypogymnia tubulosa is a bit more sensitive.

The dye content sometimes differs a lot even for species that are otherwise very similar. So I decided to test if the two species give the same color.

I used unmordanted yarn, since lichen colors are substantive. I made one dyebath with 9 g of Hypogymnia tubulosa, and put a 12-gram skein of Fenris (pure wool) and a 5-gram skein of Bestla (merino-silk) in. Another dyebath was 15 g of Hypogymnia physodes, and two 12-gram Fenris skeins and one 5-gram Bestla skein went into that one. So half the weight of lichen compared to fiber in both cases. I modified one of the Fenris skeins in an iron afterbath.

Both lichens give the same color – a fine, dusty yellow, the completely expected shade from bwm lichens. So in conclusion, no reason to sort Hypogymnia physodes and tubulosa. The merino-silk takes the color a little less well than the pure wool, and an iron afterbath does significantly darken/sadden the color at turn it green.

Left: pure wool and merino-silk dyed with Hypogymnia tubulosa. Right: pure wool and merino-silk dyed with Hypogymnia physodes, further right a pure wool skein dyed with the latter, modified with iron.

A Herd of Hats

What’s the collective noun for hats? “Herd”? “Flock”? “Mob”? “Head”? Or, in my case, “parliament”, or even “pandemonium” may even soon be appropriate. I can’t seem to stop knitting them.

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I’ve been working on two new designs for hats, a lacy one that leapt out at me from a Japanese pattern dictionary, and one in stranded knitting that came about by swatching. Yes, swatching.

Brisingamen is inspired by a Japanese pattern, and knit in two layers all over. The entire inside is knit in Bestla, a 35/65 mix of silk and merino, the entire outside is Norne, my 1-ply pure wool lace yarn. It took a bit of hard thinking to come up with a way to line both the hem and the rest of the hat – in the end, I went with two provisional cast ons. That may sound incredibly complicated, but it’s really not. And the result really is excellent. Since the gauge is small, the double fabric is thin, but very warm, even when it’s windy.

Here’s Dagmar on a snowy day a while ago, wearing the first prototype, knit in undyed yarn. It turned out too small for me, but fits her just perfectly.

Dagmar happily wearing the Brisingamen prototype.

For the final version, I only had to do small recalculations. A triple cable replaces the single line of twisted stitches between motifs, and the rib is longer. Here it is, almost done, in yarn dyed with 1:1 madder. I’ve dyed with madder on pure wool so many times, and still love how it takes the color. Silk merino takes the same dye in a slightly different, no less delicious, way. Perhaps it is the silk sheen that alters the look just slightly.

Brisingamen hat, the outer layer is pure wool, the inner silk-merino. Both dyed with madder root.

Folkvang is a tam that was inspired by Bohus patterns. Since I first read about Bohus patterns, I’ve wanted to make something using them as a starting point.

I started swatching to try patterns out. In the beginning, I wanted an arched pattern, so that’s how the swatch starts out (right side). But the arch didn’t behave, and I realized that you would have to work 3 colors in one row to make an arch that separates areas with two different background colors. I hate knitting 3 colors at a time, so I continued the swatch with rectangular shapes.

First, a white rectangle on a blue and green background. It’s OK, but the purl stitches on the long edges don’t add anything. Next, a blue rectangle on beige background. Purl stitches inside the rectangle add texture that makes the pattern more interesting. Now, I was on to something. I changed to white background, kept the dark indigo blue as the contrast color, and added in a bright green band of background color. I was getting close, and was finally happy with the pattern when I let the white background peek into the purled inside of the rectangle, and softened the bright green with a bit of beige.

The Folkvang swatch. White background with contrast colors blue (indigo), dark green (tansy and indigo), beige (velvet pax 2. bath), and bright green (reed flowers).

The vertical lines of blue purl stitches just beg to be lined up with purl stitches of a corrugated ribbing, so that’s what I did:

The Folkvang tam, flying off the needles.

The hem is lined with silk-merino. The outer part is knit in Fenris, which is excellent for color knitting, but really not that soft.

In order not to break up the corrugated ribbing when progressing from the hem to the main body of the hat, I used a new (I think?) way of closing the hem in color knitting.

In the photo below, you see the corrugated ribbing in front. The provisional cast on is undone, and the live stitches put on a needle, sitting behind the work. Now, holding the yarns appropriately for color knitting (blue is my dominant color, so it’s towards the left because I knit continental), I purl the purl stitch with blue, then knit together 3 white stitches with white, one from the front needle and two from the back. This leaves the purl columns unbroken, very satisfying to the obsessive knitter.

Closing the hem in color knitting.