I first learned to knit from my mother, as a little girl, but I didn’t get it back then. There was too much counting and keeping track of stitches and rows. I dropped stitches and wondered where they’d gone, and accidentally added stitches when I didn’t want to. My mother only knew how to knit and purl, and not much more. I soon lost interest.
My grandmother later taught me to crochet and make tatted lace. These I took up with ease. There was only one stitch or one knot to worry about at a time, and once I caught on how to make the tatted knot slide along the thread, I was on my way. Crochet was even easier than that. I crocheted afghans, sweaters and lace, and gave tatted bookmarks to friends. I continued to reject knitting as a needlecraft until, as an adult in my thirties, I finally picked up a book my grandmother had given me, Barbara G. Walker’s Learn To Knit Afghan Book, and produced an afghan, followed by a sweater. I caught on, and quickly became impassioned by knitting’s possibilities. Knit and purl became as full of potential as the ones and zeros of binary. Knitting even makes an appearance in the background of my novel Shadows Fall, in which main character Beth Gray is a knitwear designer and artist.
The weather has finally cooled toward a need for sweaters, and I’ve picked up my knitting again. I’ve wanted to knit a lace shawl for ages, and I’ve devoured articles on Shetland lace, Russian Orenburg lace, and lots of other delicacies only a knitter or lover of handmade lace would find so riveting.
But I can be sidetracked from lace, and ever since I first read about her I’ve been interested in Norwegian Elsebeth Lavold and her Viking Knits Project. Since 1992, Elsebeth Lavold has analyzed the artwork in numerous ancient artifacts and translated many of them into knitting designs. She’s produced four books, and an exhibit of her work appeared at the Ager House in Eau Claire, Wisconsin earlier this year.
My desire to knit rekindled this fall when I read an article titled Knit Together with Prayer, in Spirituality & Health magazine. While that’s not my usual source of knitting projects, the simple, rhythmic stitch used in the prayer shawl pattern in the November/December 2004 issue sent me back to my needles and yarn stash, just in time for our nighttime temperatures to dip into the forties.
That finished, my rekindled passion leads me on to a more challenging lace project. Shetland lace consists of stitch patterns with romantic names taken from nature and the sea, such as Fir Cone, Cat’s Paw, Old Shale, Gull’s Wings, Shetland Fern, and Razor Shell. I finally chose the Fir Cone Square Shawl, from Folk Shawls by Cheryl Oberle. It begins with a square of Fir Cone lace, then a wide inner border of eyelet patterns, and an outer border that looks like cresting waves. I began work on it last night. It’s not the finest lace. I’m working my way up to that. For this shawl I’m using a sport weight wool, Nature Spun from Brown Sheep. I have several balls of Knit One, Crochet Too’s Douceur et Soie, a laceweight baby mohair and silk yarn, waiting for the next project.
Before I felt the need to go into the corporate world and earn a real living, I taught knitting, crocheting, cross stitch, needlepoint and a few other crafts. I never learned how to tat, unfortunately. I am left-handed, and could never find anyone to teach me. I wish I had pursued tatting, it is so beautiful. I’ve been fascinated with the needle arts since I was 8 years old. Lately, I’ve been busy with afgans for children and babies. It gives me a good feeling to give these as gifts.
I’m left-handed, too, but I learned to tat right-handed. In fact, I do most needlecrafts right-handed, except handsewing. There is a method of doing tatting, called needle tatting, which I’ve heard is easier to learn, though I haven’t tried it. An online lesson for shuttle tatting can be found at This ‘n’ Tat, as well as various resources at the Tattered website. Lacis sells a variety of lacemaking supplies and books.
Tatting is made up of series of double half-hitches (same knot used in macrame) that slide along a thread ring. When the thread the knots are made on is pulled closed you have a ring of knots. Chains are made between rings, using a second thread. There’s a particular movement, like a “dance,” of the hand that holds the shuttle. I think it can be learned by anyone with either their right or left hand, but once you’ve learned it, it becomes second nature, you don’t really think about it, so I can see why someone would find it difficult to translate to the other hand, once learned. I haven’t tried to, myself. I still do it the way I was taught, right-handed. Funny how the things we learn become embedded in our minds.
Thanks - I do everything else right-handed as well.
In fact, I’ve taught left-handers who think they can’t learn, and have always taught them the right handed method. They never knew.
I think I’ll check up on your tatting info.
Cas