Excavated Object

For the SKA August challenge, finishing WIPs, I excavated a gray version of Embossed Leaves by Mona Schmidt that was cast on in November 2007. Needless to add, it's been a UFO for a long time. The most recent photo of it was taken in January 2008. Here's what the sock looked like then.



It's well-preserved, in the August 25 (2023) proof of sock photo it looks like it scarcely aged a day.



Er, or put another way, there hasn't been much progress on this work in progress in 16 years. Can I finish the pair before the end of the month? To be continued....

Memorial Day 2020 a Week Later

One week later, and I feel OBE yet again. Memorial Day weekend roundabout Exit 151 was somber and intermittently rainy, with the long shadow of covid19 looming over the unofficial start of summer. Many of the traditional observances at veterans cemeteries were simplified and restricted to family members with passes and face coverings, and some of the first-of-the-summer holiday revels took on political overtones, becoming either cautiously mannered or defiantly raucous. The grinding partisanship often didn't seem to leave much room for appeals to empathy and decency.

By grim coincidence the tally of confirmed covid19 deaths in the U.S. neared 100,000 during the holiday weekend, prompting the astonishing Sunday, May 24, 2020 New York Times front page shown to the right. It's a list of names with brief obituaries of 1,000 people known to have died of covid19 in the time since the epidemic began in the U.S., less than four months. Add in the unidentified deaths to the ceaselessly growing total, and it would take over 100 pages to list them all. As the headline reads, the loss is incalculable.

It seems to me one of the better ways to honor the memory of so many dead is to keep on keeping on with the single method that is proven effective: social distancing. Attempts to foster natural herd immunity, as in Sweden, have failed, at a high human cost. Many antibody tests have proven not reliable as a guide for personal behavior or public policy. Efforts to invent a safe and effective vaccine continue, as they should, although in the U.S. opinions on taking a vaccine are evenly split between Yes and No/Not Sure. The search for safe and effective treatments also continues. Overall, there are reasons for optimism and reasons for pessimism.

At the close of the holiday weekend came two incidents that pulled another veil off the reality of racism in the U.S. First, a white woman in Central Park got into a verbal argument with a black man, threatened to call the police on him, and indeed summoned police with a false story he was threatening her. He recorded the encounter, which went viral, with many consequences and much spilled ink.

The evening of Memorial Day, George Floyd died while in police custody in Minneapolis. Peaceful protests gave way to violence and looting, and documented concerns that white agents provocateurs like Umbrella Man and others from outside the Twin Cities had come to pursue violent agendas of their own. The protests, violence, and suspicions spread quickly to other cities amid pleas for calm from city and state officials and a flight from responsibility at the top.

As deadly serious as all this is, I am reminded that continued existence IS resistance. So I completed a pair of socks, Waterlily by Sivia Harding, in time to qualify for April/May SKA.



With so much going on, it's my first foot of 2020, and that will have to be enough.

Overtaken By Epidemic

'Way back whenever, a mere six weeks or so ago, this post started as a Sock Madness post. I had CO the SM14 qualifier on a train somewhere between Chicago and New York and had every intention of competing. Things seemed auspicious: by the most synchronous of synchronicities, the qualifying pattern was Wohin? by the ever-creative Caoua Coffee, a delight of clever technique (gentle readers know how I love technique). Wohin?, a lied in the Schubert song cycle "Die schöne Müllerin" (Op. 25, D. 795), translates to something like Where to?



Little did I suspect that the first week of March was to be the last Before Coronavirus (at least that we currently know of in this region) and the Land of Where To so far has been a place of constantly feeling O.B.E..

One sign of the times is the Times itself – here's a week of headlines for March 16-21, 2020, when reality began to sink in. Ordinarily the New York Times doesn't do full, six-column headlines all that often, so a solid week of them is unsettling all by itself. Then there's the subject of those headlines: the public health crisis and the economic crisis touched off by the novel coronavirus and the disease it causes, covid19, and the leadership crisis in response. So much of grave import has happened that it seems frivolous to note, even on a knitting blog, that there hasn't been much knitting going on at casa Jersey Knitter.



Instead there have been many adjustments big and small, some bewildering in their rapidity and increasing severity. BC, I went to the Philadelphia Flower Show and, AC, I was too occupied to blog about it. Branch Brook Park was closed during cherryblossom season, along with schools and nonessential businesses. (Including malls. In New Jersey.) Spring elections were rescheduled or shifted to vote by mail. Restaurants were limited to take-out or delivery only. Supermarkets were required to limit the number of customers in the store; some placed one-way arrows to direct traffic in the aisles and sneeze guards at the registers; customers were required to wear face masks and gloves – some say food stores should move to curbside pickup and home delivery only. Although online ordering is so swamped, shopping at Amazon Fresh and Whole Foods is by invitation only. I learned about social distancing and flattening the curve and how to wash hands (for at least 20 seconds, with plenty of suds).



With all the adjustments come all the feels. So many feels. Gabrielle Treanor's "3 Stages of Pandemic Response" has it about right, except instead of making steady progress through the stages, I tend to pingpong back and forth between levels.



In the pinch, some turn to activism. There's a shortage of PPE for healthcare workers and first responders and others, so I've been sewing DIY facial masks. Other crafters have been turning out parts for face shields using 3D printers and other fabricators. Still others – small groups of apparently well-funded of counter-majority populists – have been protesting stay-at-home orders... some wore hazmat suits and masks, some didn't, some toted guns, some "displayed swastikas ironically," and then there's the Operation Gridlock folks who were blocked by healthcare workers in scrubs. There's a politician who wants "to put on our big boy and big girl pants" and choose to cause people die, there's a candidate for office who looks like a zombie, and it feels like we are living in a failed state.

Whew.



After all that, I cast on another sock, Waterlily Socks by Sivia Harding. It's got a bit o' everything: beads, small cables, lace. The yarn is Sweet Georgia Tough Love Sock, colorway Sapphire. I've stopped worrying about Where To? It's one small consolation in a world turned up to eleven.

State of Away

Happy Thanksgiving weekend! I thought I'd made the slow return from the Land of Too Much Travel and was pretty much Back, but perhaps not completely. It's entirely possible, I've found, for my body to occupy one space and my head (or whatever it is that dreams up and posts blog posts) another. For example, almost post-factum I was reminded by Carole's self-care post that for many bloggers November is NaBloPoMo, the goal being to blogpost (at least) once a day for a month. Gentle readers, aside from the meta-ness of a reminder in a self-care post, in a previous life I knew that, yet in this life it's the last day of November and this is "only" my second post of the month. Sigh. No, not really Sigh. Even in a previous life I've never participated in NaBloPoMo; for me the task is shedding NaBloPoMo FOMO. Er, by posting a confessional of sorts... on the last day.

Let me atone move along with "Everything to Lose," a powerful spoken word poem by Wyn Wylie (he/him) as Pattie Gonia (she/her) about the plastic crisis, a particularly dreadful part of our climate emergency.



(For gentle readers interested in more, there's also a compelling companion documentary that shows Wyn Wylie doing the research in Hawai'i, a beach clean up with Sustainable Coastlines Hawaii, and how designer Angela Luna made the dresses from found objects – plastic fishing nets hung up on the reef, single-use plastic bags floating in the ocean, and bright, brittle bits of plastic found on the beach.)

Plastic reduction has been a public goal of my knitblogging life pretty much since Year One, more than 10 years ago. Not tremendously successfully, despite concern, intermittent effort, and occasional blogposts. It would seem I'm in good company: the township is finally banning single-use plastic bags, although with many reasonable exceptions for small businesses. Even that small step has been difficult, not least because of the perceived imbalance between the many immediate benefits of plastic and its dreadful long-term impacts. A throw-away culture depends upon an Away to throw on, but it turns out there is no Away, not really, just different headspace.



So this Thanksgiving weekend I'm here, if not quite Back, and pondering the state of Away, and knitting a bit (and marveling at how frequently I used to blogpost). I have a singleton sock, Simple Skyp, to show off. While it's DNF on time for SKA, that's OK. I've been Away, and am still coming home.

Transitions

This post has been evolving a while. When I started writing about my weekend it was the season when the walls between worlds grown thin, and maybe some walls between nations, too. Ahem. To celebrate mark the date, there even was a Halloween sun, courtesy the NASA Solar Dynamics Observatory.



Roundabout Exit 151 a bit more Halloween sun would have been welcome – Halloween was warm, windy, and rainy. I had planned to test a survey which claims the most popular Halloween candy in NJ is Skittles. Knock me over with a feather, I like chocolate. But, not wanting to run afoul of the generational friction of ok boomer and mindful of slave-free chocolate concerns, I gave Skittles a try on the sparse handful of trick-or-treaters who braved the balmy storm. Within the small sample size, it would seem it's true, Skittles were very well received. Huh.

After the storm and clean up, I hauled our last TV with a picture tube to the recycling center. The attendant suggested I was nuts for wanting to take a photo (and he didn't want to be in it), but it seemed important to document the occasion. Farewell, faithful TV!



As for knitting, all I got to show is this Pumpkin Socks singleton. I'm DNF for September/October SKA and feel rather indifferent about that, given everything else that's been going on. And while I'm concerned about it becoming a Singleton Sock of Shame, perhaps there's no danger – some gentle readers (who don't themselves knit) find the term objectionable and stifling, and have had the temerity to demand I find better terminology. Hm....



Moving right along... For runners, it was NY Marathon weekend, of course. As all New Yorkers well know, it's the weekend when the city is, er, overrun with fleet pedestrians and traffic closures. So perhaps it was only fitting that the president, having declared himself no longer a New Yorker (for whatever good that does), decided to snarl traffic further by attending a mixed martial arts card at Madison Square Garden, where his reception inside and out was decidedly mixed. This on top of his Game 5 reception and followed by an off-year Election Day and some of the crowd at a Trump rally in Monroe, Louisiana leaving early.

No doubt about it, the times are a-changing, winter is coming, and there's snow in the forecast.

Submerged

It's taken almost all of October to find the right pattern for this lovely sock yarn, and I'm still not completely convinced, but for SKA October/November purposes, here goes: a repeat of Simple Skyp Sock by Adrienne Ku, with a beaded CO in memory of Adrienne Fong aka bellybuttonknits.



The yarn, Three Irish Girls Adorn Luxe, colorway Big Bang, is so beautifully cosmic, very nice, although the yarn is not quite as sproingy as I prefer. As part of the memorial sock-along tribute to BBK, I tried knitting up a replacement for my worn tabi-toed Send in the Clowns, didn't like it. Tried Kilauea, didn't like that either. Then I traveled too much, liked that some but didn't like the excess, and I saw Waterlicht, an immersive laser light installation in Manhattan.



My poor digicam was not up to the task of capturing the experience, and when I left I found myself feeling oddly rested yet similarly without words to describe it. The installation was lovely, numinous, wheelchair and family friendly, and well done – one never felt crowded or rushed, there were nice places to sit and contemplate, and helpful ushers with glow sticks to show the way. For all that, I overheard a young art critic sagely opine, "This is very cool, but also kind of boring." Well, the line to get in eventually wrapped around three sides of a city block. What I liked best, I think, was how one's sense of the city never really went away.



The sense of rising waters also never quite goes away. So many coastal communities along the Eastern seaboard are experiencing an increase in sunny day flooding, or street flooding from normal tidal action, not caused by unusually powerful storms or even king tides. Indeed, the projections suggest what have been the worst inundations in past will soon simply be the new normal, most of the time. Having slogged through the aftermath of hurricanes and nor'easters and bomb cyclones, even as Western states experiences worse and worse fire seasons, I'm looking for solutions. Of course it's ironic I've been traveling too much when my perennial favorite solution is carbon avoidance, especially transit avoided carbon, but one has to start somewhere.

Rambling On

Oh hai. I've been traveling too much, knitting (and canning and blogging) too little. Some of the travel has been very pleasant, some less so. Here's some of the pleasant.



Ahh.

Too little knitting is not no knitting, of course. Here's a Pumpkin Sock interposing itself in the sculpture When Anthony Met Stanton by Ted Aub, that depicts Amelia Bloomer (you can barely see her loose trousers, known as bloomers) introducing Susan B. Anthony of Rochester to Elizabeth Cady Stanton of Seneca Falls. The statues are life-sized – it's a bit of a surprise how tiny such looming figures were. And surely gentle readers all know what happened in Seneca Falls, New York, the 1848 Women's Rights Convention, re-enacted annually in July. Something to consider if you're in the Finger Lakes region. (I can't believe I'm nattering on about travel, when I've been traveling too much as it is.)



Next year marks the centennial of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, or (white) women's suffrage. Much ink has been shed about the racism baked into the women's rights movement, and the differences and intersections between race and gender. I have some thoughts on such matters, of course, but right now I'm going to rest (not quit) and ramble on.

Not Bemoaning

When last seen I was in the basement cowering from a late July heatwave. Time passed. August galloped by, and a major hurricane, and a double plus ungood hurricane controversy that seems to have no bottom. You can see it from space, in rainbow colors, sort of.

And now it's September. Rather than bemoan all I did NOT accomplish this summer, I decided to make an effort to get ahead of the curve and cast on Pumpkin Socks by Nicole Simmons in Claudia Hand Painted, colorway Ink and some Trekking leftover from Ekornsokkene. It's a rather, um, festive look for the second week of September, but with my record of UFOs this year I need as much of a head start as possible. Thus: premature pumpkin spice jokes, Halloween rush jokes – you are banishèd! Begone!



No doubt it will be October soon enough.

By the Light of the Super Blood Wolf Moon

Happy New Year, gentle readers, a couple weeks late! If the way January has started continues during the rest of the year, there will be much last-minute alarums and just-in-time scrambling in 2019. I sincerely hope not, I was hoping for a tranquil, prepared year. Well, onward.



Tonight there's a total lunar eclipse visible from the continental US, breathlessly dubbed a Super Blood Wolf Moon. It's the only total lunar eclipse of this year, so I'm going to stay up late, bundle up against the cold, and try to get a photo. I'll post the (possibly only blob-like) results above. (ETA: Only a little blurry, not too bad considering it was freaking cold outside and someone may have tripped over the tripod. Anyway, a beautiful copper eclipse moon.)

My first foot of the year is Invitation to the Dance by Caoua Coffee, which was the warmup pattern for Sock Madness 11 (2017). Although I enjoy her patterns for their beauty and erudition, and this one is proving similar to others, I didn't have time to knit it pre-SM and was only a cheerleader for the duration. Maybe this year will be lucky thirteen? Hm.



I'm excited that after a year away the Food in Jars Mastery Challenge 2019 will reprise the excellent 2017 experience, complete with hashtag (#fijchallenge), a presence on Facebook and on Instagram, and seasonal adjustments for participants in the Southern Hemisphere, who currently are awash in stone fruit, a heat wave, and the Australian Open. The (Northern Hemisphere) January challenge is citrus. I have a new marmalade recipe (a friend's family secret!), and I want to try candying citrus slices. In preparation I bought some crazy-expensive organic citrus because edible peel is a feature. So far I've ::cough:: eaten some excellent grapefruit and made some citrus peel vinegar cleaner. Apparently there are "18 Places You Should Be Cleaning With Vinegar" in the kitchen alone. I have a greasy oven (worse than #3) and a stinky Instant Pot sealing ring (#10) to tackle. No-longer-young-hopefully-not-yet-old fogey and neo-Luddite that I am, I don't quite get Instagram, so that's an additional January challenge for me.

Although my phone may be an impediment, and perhaps that's one more thing to remedy in 2019. Hm.

Amazing to relate, last year's last foot, Holly Jolly Cranberry Biscotti, won one of the prizes in the Sock Knitters Anonymous random prize draws for Nov/Dec 2018, a pattern from This Handmade Life. I'm thrilled. I've participated irregularly in SKA for 12 years, and this is the first time I've won a prize. Maybe it's an auspicious beginning to another lucky thirteen (even though the SKA calendar runs September-August)? Anyway, whee.

Blur

On reflection at year end, 2018 seems to have gone by in a blur. While it may not have attained 2016 dumpster fire levels of awful, the cumulative impact of winter snowstorms and autumn hurricanes, familial responsibilities, and especially the seemingly endless weary rounds of endless dreary travel really ground me down. There was sufficient miserable badness that the goodness was almost lost in the fog.

Almost. There were small consolations. Over the summer I discovered Marisa McClellan's much-celebrated tomato jams, and turned out red, orange, and yellow varieties because I grew red and orange tomatoes and got some yellow ones at the farmer's market. Now that summer is gone, a dollop of tomato jam on eggs or in a chowder is so very nice.



As hard as it is now to recall or even imagine there once were winter Ravellenics or Sock Madness 12, they occurred, and I participated to the limited extent that I could. Sometimes frogging and qualifying are all that one can manage.

 

Perennial optimist that I am, I also entered make-alongs with every good intention of finishing odd socks and weaving spa cloths. Alas, that didn't go as planned. Ah well, next year.

 

It should be no surprise that one sock – the SM12 qualifier! – went onto the Clothesline of Shame and none came down for a total of ten Singleton Socks of Shame. Not the most ever, but still backwards progress.

Singleton Socks of Shame 2018, left to right, oldest to newest: Meadowlands, Fawkes, Julesokker, Love Me Knot, Chain Link, Hanauma Bay, handspun Queen of Diamonds, Twisted Madness, Dropping Madness, Fée Dragée with a counting thread.

One last fibery consolation for the year is my last foot, just-finished holly jolly Cranberry Biscotti by Elizabeth Sullivan. I'm beyond pleased with the way they turned out. I added a beaded cuff, which while not super-visible, nonetheless makes me absurdly happy.



With the year closing amid increasing economic turmoil and willful political failures, more so than ever knitting has become both solace and expression of resistance. I have no sage advice to offer this New Year's Eve beyond the usual, perhaps all the more important in unusual times: take good care of yerselves...



... and see you on the other side.

Holly Jolly Time

Since it's holly jolly time roundabout Exit 151, it must be time for holly jolly Cranberry Biscotti by Elizabeth Sullivan. It's a second attempt – I'd started this pattern once before in a candy corn colorway, and never finished. Somehow the colors never clicked for me. I'm liking the holly jolly colorway much better.



It's a second third fourth attempt for the green Fleece Artist yarn as well, having previously been tried in Green Vine Socks, Whitby Socks (which didn't make the blog), and Little Arrowhead Lace Socks (also didn't make the blog). It's looking like fourth time is the charm.



The red and white yarns are Koigu. Somehow, in all the sock knitting I've done, I've never made socks with Koigu. Remedying that now.

Cheerful Playfellow of Half-Blood Princes

It may be necessary to sit down for this one. I finished a pair of socks in time to meet the deadline for the SKA October/November Architecture Challenge. Go me.



This FO is Hidden Stairways by Erica Lueder, worked in Ancient Arts Fibre Crafts Socknado, colorway Lichen In My Crevices. The pattern is playful, easily memorized, and delightfully absorbing. The yarn reminds me of Shakespeare's "rude ragged nurse, sullen playfellow of princes" (the Tower of London) and stands in well for Hogwarts Castle, home of the half-blood Prince. Not to be overly gloomy or lit'ry – this is a happy pairing.



Despite all that knitting happiness or perhaps because of the giddy fumes, by some perversity I kept misreading the instructions for Sockdown and posting non-qualifying photos. Ahem. I have no wish to become the scofflaw of SKA. I hope I've got it all right now.



The pattern is modified by substituting 2x2 ribbing on the cuff, a shortie leg (minimum of 3 inches (7.62 cm)), continuing the pattern down the heel, and tabi toes. Because the staircases at Hogwarts like to change, the second sock was knit with the pattern varied by a half drop. As the Headmaster knows, a good pair of socks is a good thing – these are a much-needed replacement for my poor Clowns). Happiness in sock form.

Trolls Ascendant

What a strange and terrible week it's been, so dominated by the spectacle of corrupt and spineless politics in Washington, Big Lies, and crackpot threats of violence. In an odd way it reminded me of the scene on a beach while a hurricane is going by: the warning flags are up, the water is churning with tremendous force, and yet some people are surfing. Perhaps some of the same principles of responsibility and self-care may apply.



When trolls are ascendant, one is left to concoct one's own sunshine amid the sturm und drang. A third way, if you will: not reacting to them, not pretending they aren't there, but a form of resistance (admittedly privileged) to their coarsened public discourse. So I've been doing some cauldron work, and am rather pleased with the results. There's more tomato jam to add to the Great Wall of Tomato Jam, this time using yellow and (more) orange tomatoes. It's Marissa's recipe again, with 20% less sugar, white vinegar substituted for cider vinegar, and ground jalapeño subbed for smoked paprika and cayenne. I'm ridiculously happy at how the colors have held during cooking and processing.



Ah, the colors. I could look at this all day. Flavor and yield are good, too. Tomato jam is often paired with cheese, but I like it best with eggs.



Meanwhile, the Diana Prince sock progresses, while as anticipated the shrug is Overtaken By Events. Ah well, maybe now more than ever a bit of Amazon fortitude and some fancy needlework is needed. Pew! Pew!



After an absence to several years, I'm planning to go to Rhinebeck this year. I've been before, but for the first time I'm planning to stay overnight. I'm thrilled to bits, even though I'm still so busy that I'm not going to attempt to knit a sweater. But... er... well, maybe a hat.... To be continued

Away Again

And just like that, summer turns to fall. Not that you could tell by my schedule. For me it's another long flight, another cast on. This one is Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) socks by Becky Greene. I'd admired the pattern before, almost exactly one year ago, and unwisely cast on in an overly busy yarn. One year older and wiser, I'm going with a more subtle variegation, Zitron Trekking XXL colorway 77.



That's better, sockwise. Travelwise, this trip proved rather eventful. More when I'm back in terra Jersey.

Along August

It's August, which means summer is stealing away and SKAers are finishing UFOs. Sure, I'll join another -along, I have ::cough:: a few potential candidates from the clothesline of shame. For starters, here's Hanauma Bay Socks by Adrienne Fong. Originally it was cast on September 1, 2013; it's pictured with an August 3, 2018 NYT headline noting Apple Inc attained a valuation of $1 trillion. How time passes when you're not paying attention.



Also noteworthy: I just finished the first book I've read purely for pleasure in ages, a marvelously epic yet intimate retelling of ancient Greek mythology through a feminist lens, Circe by Madeline Miller. It was quite wonderful – truly full of wonders – and erudite without being showy. I'd like to read another, but also want to slog through my long, long list of books to read not-for-pleasure. Happily, books (like UFOs) keep; I'll get to it.

Once Away

Once away from airport hell, I noticed I'd cast on Geology Socks incorrectly. Fixed that.



And, despite the dearth of FOs this crazy over-committed summer, I immediately signed up for a bath-related weave-along. Because, sure, I'll take one of those.

It's Good to Have Knitting During Airport Hell

So. The travel plan for this week ran smack into airport hell, complete with weather, power outages, tarmac captivity, flight cancellations, and screaming people unwisely threatening airlines staff and inevitably being questioned by police. All I can say is it's good to have knitting during airport hell, even while or perhaps especially while keeping a cautious eye on extremely agitated people.



My CO is Geology Socks by verybusymonkey, a late CO for July Sockdown, lace challenge. Alas, no Princess X for me, at least not this time.

Although I finally staggered home, my checked luggage would seem to be off having rather extensive adventures without me. I thought in this security-conscious age that was not possible. Somewhat disturbingly, after providing full information on the tags on the luggage and its exterior appearance, I was asked to describe its contents. Erm. I hope I see everything again soon. Meanwhile, just keep knitting, just keep knitting....

All Ahead Slow

With two days left in the Ravellenics, I just finished a singleton sock. Yay, me but either I must knit much faster, with the concomitant frustrations, if I cherish any hopes of earning any medals or laurels, or continue moving forward, albeit slowly, and stop worrying about external pressures.



Meanwhile, my tabi-toed Send in the Clowns socks suffered a blowout on the right heel and left big toe. This is the second time this brand of yarn failed after moderate wear, which is disappointing.



I know from sad experience that when sock yarn fails it's rarely worth the effort to darn the sock. Because when the yarn is this worn, it means the sock is on the verge of going to pieces – new holes inevitably appear at an ever-increasing rate. It's far better to move on and knit new socks.

Alas, this relative lack of rapid forward progress does not bode well for the upcoming Sock Madness 12. I can't say I mind overmuch. It wouldn't be the first time I ended up out of that competition.

Time to Make a Change

I started feeling dissatisfied with my Supporter's Socks. It's not the pattern, I'd knit it before; it's not the yarn either; the match just doesn't seem right. This is as far as I got. Not very, as things go. Conversely, not too far to turn back. The season of Lent is all about metanoia – re-thinking, repenting, turning back.



Under similar circumstances, sometimes I'd slog onward and keep on knitting, sometimes I'd set the project aside to hibernate. Not this time, even though it's my first foot.



Sometimes one just wants a happier sock. Sometimes one needs a happier sock. This is Soul Mate Heart Socks by Elly Fales. It's a happy sock.



That's better. I'm double-dipping with Ravellenics Sock Hockey and February Sockdown (new to me designer), too.

The Pits

Oh hai. Happy... Halloween? All Saints Day? Where was I? Right, canning along and dealing with an abundance of pits, which made August, September, and October fly by bloglessly. I missed the U.S. Open. I missed Rhinebeck. While that's a sadness, there may be consolations. As gentle readers may know, when life gives you pits, sometimes that implies peaches or possibly cherries or possibly both, which is not so bad. But other times it's just the pits.

So. Back in August I canned peaches. The FIJ August Challenge was a twofer, low temperature pasteurization or steam canning. However, as both challenges require specialty equipment, impecunious renegade that I am, I just chugged along hot-packing peaches. It wasn't a good year for peaches, too cold during critical bloom times during the spring and too wet, flooded, and overcast when the developing fruits needed sun. Out of the various peaches I tried this summer – from New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina farmers markets – NJ peaches were the sweetest, which ordinarily is not the case.

Prepping peaches for canning requires blanching and peeling, slicing (halves and even quarters seemed too big, I tried sixths), then simmering until hot in canning liquid. It was a surprise to see that blanched, peeled peaches retain a lovely blush...



... that vanishes with simmering. More accurately, the slices lose their blush, but the canning liquid takes on a pretty pink tinge that eludes my poor digicam.



For canning liquid I tried recipes that use apple juice or heavy syrup (in the Ball Blue Book). My plan was to be able to eat the peaches and drink the juice, but some of the hungry peach-eaters at casa Jersey Knitter greatly prefer peaches in heavy syrup because they find juice pack too acidic. I wonder if a touch of honey would help smooth that out.

Processing is straightforward. I had some trouble with syphoning and fruit float, then read the former is caused when the contents of jars are either too hot or too cold relative to the water bath, especially with larger jars, and the latter happens when the specific gravity of the fruit is less than that of the canning liquid. Adjust accordingly. Eureka! (Alas for the peach-eaters, I think that means light syrup is more appropriate.)



The results were very good, far superior to store-bought canned peaches, which encouraged further production. Also a certain amount of backwards progress when the hungry peach-eaters helped themselves to the peaches in heavy syrup. For quality assurance purposes, of course. Only one heavy syrup pack jar made it to the class photo.



That is the most canning of one thing I've done so far, but not enough to see casa Jersey Knitter through the dearth of fresh peaches. I'd hoped to continue canning peaches through September, but the knowledgeable farmers market dude told me there's a magic moment that usually happens around the third week of August when peaches still look good, but no longer taste good. I'd never really noticed, but that is exactly what happened. Then other things happened, I was away a lot, and missed the FIJ September challenge, fruit butter, altogether. I was looking forward to trying a recipe for tomato jam... although this hasn't been a great year for tomatoes either, at least not in my tomato patch. Ah well.

I knit a loud sock for September Sockdown and was disqualified for being inattentive to the rules. Shrug. My DQ sock is a modified version of Socks on a Plane, and indeed was knit on a plane, and on trains and automobiles, too. Progress has been the opposite of speedy. I've been using a counting thread to keep the 3x3x7 cable crossings correct.



Carole fortuitously reminded me I had a bag of pitted Bing cherries in the freezer, prepped and set aside during the surfeit of cherry season for a purpose now forgotten. I decided to repurpose them for brandied cherries (recipe in the Ball Blue Book), to be used in festive cocktails and boozy desserts, except I substituted Amaretto for brandy as I find almond more sympatico with cherries. Freezing and canning were not kind to the cherries' texture, but otherwise the boozy cherries are incredible – sweet, dark, and quite alcoholic, definitely a consolation for missing the FIJ October challenge (dehydration or pressure canning). Indeed, the canning syrup was so good, I canned the excess too.



The trouble with any -along is too many inspirations/patterns/recipes, too little time. And boy howdy, do I have too little time at the moment. So let me just note these recipes (Fikira Honey Candy and Canned Lemon Curd) and the fond hope I can get to them later. November, November, that's how I'll remember!