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Why the Long Tail Cast on is the boss

For a jolly long time, there were a lot of things I used to ignore when working from knitting patterns, because I couldn’t entirely understand why they were there. “Ignore it and it’ll go away” is a questionable decision at the best of times, and it’s definitely a bit of a daft choice at times when knitting.

One of these times, it turns out is when you’re ignoring the long tail cast on.

I use the long tail cast-on a lot now. A lot lot. I use it in loads of my patterns; the Ya Basic bed sock, the Jimmy Jab Jumper, the Bingpot Beanie, the I Smell Snow hat, and probably at least one more that I’ve forgotten. And the reason I use it so much is this:

The long tail cast on produces a brilliantly stretchy edge.

But before we talk more about why that’s such a good thing, let’s go back a bit.

Why you should use the cast on the pattern calls for

Now, when I learned to knit, I learned one cast on, and I used it for everything. I didn’t even realise that there were different ways to cast on until I’d been knitting for a couple of years. Even then it didn’t occur to me that these different cast-ons probably did different things. I thought it was probably a bit like getting dressed; the exact steps you take might be different (socks before trousers, or trousers before socks?) but the end result is the same.

Not the case.

I now know that the first cast-on I learned was what is known as the “cable cast on”. I also know that it produces a strong, stable edge. It’s a good all-rounder, this one. Except for when you need a stretchy edge, where it’s really, really rubbish. It’s far too strong and stable to be faffing about with any of that stretching stuff.

And how did I learn this? I tried to use it to begin a top-down sock. And then I tried to use it to begin a top-down sweater. Both were absolutely terrible decisions. I could not get the sock over my heel. And then I could not get the jumper over my head. Of course, being an idiot I didn’t clock this until I’d completed the rest of the knitting and found myself with an unwearable item, and a new appreciation that maybe I should’ve paid attention when the pattern asked for a stretchy cast on.

What’s so great about the long tail cast on?

Which is where my great friend the long tail cast on comes into the story. Ooh, that’s a stretchy cast on. It’ll go straight over my heel, and my massive head. It’s brilliant for top-down socks, and top-down jumpers, and anything where you need a stretchy edge. I tend to use it to start brim-up hats because…giant head.

Now, the only thing is that the long tail cast on can be a little bit fiddly to learn. It involves arranging your yarn around your hand in a particular way, and then wiggling your knitting needle through that arrangement. That’s why I looked at it and disregarded it before knitting that sock, and that jumper. Too much faff. Couldn’t be bothered.

Don’t make my mistake.

How to do the long tail cast on

Once you’ve got your head (or perhaps more your hand) around it, the long tail cast on is actually crazy easy. And oddly fun. You can really get some speed up once you’re used to doing it. But it is a cast on that you need to see to learn, really. Which is why I’ve made this little video tutorial.

How long should that long tail be?

The only possible pitfall of the long tail cast off is working out how long that famous tail should be. There are some handy mathematical formulas out there, but I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t bother with them. I take a guess at how much yarn I think I’ll need, and then I add on about a third again. I very rarely run out of yarn, but I do sometimes end up with some ridiculously long tails sitting there unused. So if you’re running a bit tight on yarn, maybe do try one of those formulas. And then let me know how you get on.

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How to knit with German short rows: A not at all scary guide

Do you know what I really bloody love? German short rows.

Seriously. They’re one of my very favourite knitting techniques. If you’ve knitted one of my patterns, then you’ll know that I use them a lot, but I’ve never felt compelled to truly sing their praises before.

Until now.

What are short rows?

Now, before I get all over-excited about German short rows, let’s take it back to basics a bit by answering the question “what are short rows?”

The answer, like many things in knitting, is suprisingly simple. Short rows are – as their name suggests – where you knit only part of a row before turning your work. You have to do a little bit of a something at the end of your partial row to stop a hole appearing there, but we’ll get to that later.

Why would you use short rows?

You mean other than because they’re brilliant?

They can be used for all sorts of things to do with shaping knitting; adding high-low hems, shaping shoulders, creating “chunks” of knitting within a pattern (as in my Set the Tone scarf), and even turning heels.

And what are German short rows?

German short rows are one technique that you can use to avoid those holes I mentioned earlier. A lot of people use the wrap and turn short row method and think it’s fine, but I can only assume that those people have never used German short rows. Because German short rows are way, way better.

What makes German short rows so good?

They’re really simple. Honestly, they’re so, so simple. When I tried the old wrap and turn back in my early days I got myself into a right pickle trying to pick up wraps and then dropping wraps and then forgetting to even do the wraps and oh it hurt my head.

There’s no faffing with wraps in German short rows. What you do instead is make the first stitch of your row into a “double stitch”, which sounds fancy but really isn’t.

So how do I make a double stitch?

Creating a double stitch is surprisingly easy, and weird satisfying. And it’s the same whether you’re working with a knit or purl stitch.

To create a double stitch, you bring your yarn to the front of your work, slip the first stitch onto your right hand needle, and pull the yarn over the top of your needle to make a stitch with two “legs”. That’s it.

Bet you thought it was going to be a more complex thing than that, didn’t you?

What about getting rid of the double stitch?

Once you’re done working your short rows and want to go back to knitting the full row – or round, because you can use them for knitting in the round as well – you just work the two “legs” of the double stitch together. If you’re on a knit row, you knit them together. If you’re on a purl row, you purl them. That’s it.

Can I see German short rows in action?

You can indeed. I’ve made a handy little video tutorial to German short rows and creating double stitches. It’s even got a cameo from my cat.

And just because I’m all kinds of lovely, I’ve also made a handy little reminder pin that you can use as a cheat sheet.

Got any questions about German short rows? Drop me a comment below, get in touch on Instagram, or even send me an email. In case you can’t tell, I love German short rows and will be very, very happy to help.

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2020: A year in garment knitting

(A little heads up: this blog post includes links to Ravelry, so if you have trouble with the site do take care.)

Here’s a thing: up until recently, it was a long, long time since I’d knitted myself a sweater. We’re talking 5 or 6 years long. I made excuses for this for a while; back when the Woolly Badger was in its Etsy store incarnation, it was because I had to be knitting stock. Then it was because they took too long, and I just didn’t have the time.

Really, what was behind it was this: I did not believe that my body was worthy of spending the time on a handknit.

Since I knitted that last sweater, I’ve had two children. I’ve breastfed them both. I’ve gone up two dress sizes. I’ve got a stretched out ribcage that will never quite go back to where it was before my sons shoved all my internal organs out of their way so that they could get a bit more growing room. I’ve even gone up a shoe size, because apparently that’s a thing that pregnancy can do to you.

And what I told myself, without realising I was telling myself, was this: this new body did not deserve nice knits. It would deserve them later, when the baby weight had gone. When it was smaller. When the knits would “look better”.

Well, for all the things that 2020 has taken away from us all, it has given me one thing; a nice, new sense of just not giving a shit. Sure, I do not love my body. I do not even like it most of the time. But I am never going to learn to be OK with it if I keep telling myself that it is not worthy of nice things.

And so, I started knitting myself garments. Here’s what I’ve done.

Projects one and two: the lace tees

Two lace tees hanging on a wooden slatted room divider.

Patterns: Geraldine by Agata Maciewicz (pink) and Waterlily by Meghan Fernandes (grey)
Yarn: Merino Silk 4ply from The Wool Kitchen

I love me a bit of lace knitting. I really, really do. And I loved knitting both of these tops back in the summer, because I used one of my very favourite yarns for them. Wool Kitchen merino silk is both crazy soft and just beautiful of colour, and paired with these lace patterns it made for some truly top-notch lightweight summer knits. I know it’s cliche to call things “light and airy”, but man, are these light and airy.

I even wore these two tops while I had my youngest in the sling, and neither of us ended up a horrible sweaty pool of grossness.

Project three: the everyday knitted tee

Woman standing against wall wearing a loose cotton knitted v-neck top

Pattern: Rock It Tee by Tanis Lavellee
Yarn: Summerlite 4ply from Rowan Yarns (found in deepest darkest stash)

Another light and airy summer tee here, although this time I perhaps got a tad carried away with the “airy” part of the equation. I went big on the positive ease, and forgot that cotton has a tendency to stretch out a bit. The final result has something of a tent vibe to it, but I kind of love that about it. Excellent for just lobbing on and still feeling a bit put-together.

Project four: the rainbow sweater

Woman in the woods wearing a v-neck rainbow striped jumper

Pattern: Camaro by Tanis Lavellee
Yarn: Milburn DK from Eden Cottage Yarns

I don’t think it’s actually possible to love a sweater more than I love my rainbow sweater. The construction of the pattern is magnificant; it’s really fun to knit, without making your brain explode. The yarn is a beautiful soft wool and silk mix, with perfect rainbow colours. The fit is magnificent. I get compliments every time I wear this jumper out. Which is a lot. Because I love it. I really, really love it. If I were a jumper myself, I would want to marry this jumper.

That got a bit weird, didn’t it?

Anyway. I love this jumper.

Projects five and six: the inevitable Love Notes

A close up of a pink, slightly fuzzy, lace jumper

Pattern: Love Note by Tin Can Knits
Yarn: Le Petit Lambswool and Le Petit Silk and Mohair from Biches and Buches

It was always going to happen, wasn’t it? I was always going to knit a Love Note after seeing so very many of them on instagram. And I’ve actually knitted two of them – one pink, and one blue – because it turns out everyone is right and this pattern really is a joy to knit. It’s also got me into high-low hems, but we’ll see more on that a bit later.

Project seven: the colourwork yoke

Pattern: Goldwing by Jenn Steingass
Yarn: Croft Aran from West Yorkshire Spinners

It was right about here in my garment knitting odyssey that I started to go a bit rogue. Up until know I’d done exactly what the pattern had told me to do, but I got a little bit adventurous here. Only a little bit, mind. I went up a needle size for a slightly looser gauge, shortened the body, and took the colourwork cuffs out of the equation. And I’m very happy with the result; this one is so supremely warm that it’s become my go-to ‘babywearing jumper’, because it’s far easier to get a sling fitting correctly over a warm jumper than it is over a massive coat.

Also: who said gingers can’t wear orange? Fools.

Project eight: the stash dive of dreams

Pattern: Soldotna Crop by Caitlin Hunter
Yarn: All sorts; leftover Croft Aran, some Mr B Aran, a bit of Ginger’s Hand Dyed Sheepish Aran and some other stuff that I found in my stash that is a total mystery.

And here we arrive at my latest, as yet unfinished, project. For which I have gone totally rogue; I’ve added the high-low hem (thanks Love Note!), improvised some colourwork at the bottom, am adding sleeves, and have knitted the whole thing in a selection of stash yarn that isn’t even technically the right weight for the project. And I bloody love it. I’m going to go ahead and give myself 10/10 for this one, just because I can.

And coming next…a Woolly Badger original

But, what is the moral of this jumperiffic tale? Is it that you should totally wing it and never bother swatching (totally didn’t swatch for any of these, by the way). Is it that everyone deserves a nice jumper? Is it that it’s totally fine to go off-pattern and make things your own?

Turns out it’s all of the above. Because after getting so stuck into this sweater knitting thing, I’ve designed my very first sweater. It’s for kids, it’s top-down, it’s seamless, and it’s really fun. I’m hoping to have it out early in 2021. Because sweater knitting is one thing that I don’t wish to leave in 2020.

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Well that’s not scary: shawl knitting

Of all the ridiculous misconceptions I’ve had about knitting, perhaps the most ridiculous of all is that knitting a shawl is a really complex thing. Any shawl. Of any kind. Must be tricky. Must have crazy complex increases and decreases to make those shapes, and must be beyond my capabilities.

Told you it was ridiculous.

But just in case you’re still hanging out in the cave of knitting fear, I’ve designed what may in fact be the world’s easiest shawl. The Math of Love Triangles shawl.

The world’s easiest shawl. Probably.

Large green garter stitch and textured triangle shawl

Ok, maybe not the very easiest – because that would probably have a whole load of nothing but garter stitch going on – but this has got to be right up there. It’s a lovely, sideways triangular shawl with a few textured panels to keep things a bit interesting. And – and this is the really key bit of information – it’s way, way easier than it looks.

(Small aside: I briefly considered making “way easier than it looks” my business tagline, but then realised that’s probably a bad idea.)

Anyway. The thing that’s so magically simple about the Math of Love Triangle shawl is that it only needs three skills beyond your classic knit and purl stitches – and two of those skills are basically the same. That’s it’s. So, if you can cast on, cast off, knit, and purl, you’re ready to take on this guy.

If you’re a total beginner and want to have a crack at just doing those first, then I recommend having a little look at the kits and patterns that Lauren Aston Designs and Moloney Makes put together. But seriously, this shawl is really not much harder than a beginner scarf.

And why am I so confident in that? Because I’m about to show you those two extra skills that you need.

How do I “slip 1 purlwise with yarn in back”?

Sounds a bit complex, doesn’t it? It’s really not. Let me show you.

You see that? It’s so straightforward I made it a gif! Because all you have to do for this one is put your right hand needle into the next stitch as if you’re going to purl it, and then just slip it off your left hand needle. Then carry on.

It’s so easy that you don’t even have to bother knitting the stitch.

And how about “slip 1 purlwise with yarn in front”?

Now, when I said that two of the skills were kind of the same skill, this is what I meant. At its core, you’re doing the very same thing here that you did above – inserting right hand needle as if to purl, and then slipping it off the left hand needle.

But because you’re working on the wrong side of the shawl at this point, you need to do a little bit of yarn jiggling to keep it looking pretty. But it’s only very little. Let’s have a look, shall we?

So, for this one you work to the stitch you’re going to slip, move the yarn forward, slip the stitch, and then move the yarn back again.

It ends up lying across the stitch you’ve just slipped, but as we’re on the wrong side of the shawl here, so you’re all good.

And how about this “knit front and back” thing?

Now, this one is every so slightly more complex. But only in that you actually have to do some knitting with it.

And what knitting do you have to do? Well, pretty much what it says; you knit into the front of the stitch, and then into the back of it. Now, if you’re not super familiar with knitting yet than it can be a bit tricky to work out exactly what this means, so yet again I’m going to show you.

Let’s break that down. Starts off normal; you knit into the front of the stitch, as per usual. But then, instead of slipping that stitch off the left hand needle, you go round the back of the stitch and knit into it again.

Once you’ve done that, you’ve got two stitches instead of just the one. That’s exactly what you’re meant to have; these increases are how the shawl gets its lovely triangle-y shape.

So now you’ve watched those demonstrations, you’re all ready to get going with a bit of shawl knitting. The Math of Love Triangles shawl comes out on Thursday 5 November, so not long to wait.

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Well that’s not scary: Knitting Intarsia

A FEW WEEKS BACK, I ASKED ON INSTAGRAM IF THERE WERE THINGS THAT OTHER KNITTERS FOUND A BIT SCARY. BECAUSE I’VE GOT A THEORY THAT ALL BUT THE MOST CONFIDENT AND CAVALIER OF KNITTERS HAS A SECRET LIST OF THINGS THAT THEY FIND A LITTLE BIT INTIMIDATING.

I know I did. I’ve written before about how I found yarn substitution to be a thing of absolute mystery. But that wasn’t my only fear; I had a whole big mental list of scary techniques. They intimidated me right to my yarn-y core. So much so that I’d avoid any patterns that used them, no matter how beautiful those patterns looked.

I’d see people talk about these terrifying techniques, and I’d freak right out. How could they do this incredible thing with this scary technique, and I couldn’t?

Turns out there’s a simple answer to that one. They’d tried, and I hadn’t.

Because – and this is the point of my asking the “what scares you” question on Instagram, and of starting this new series of blogs – nothing in knitting is actually that scary. It’s just yarn and sticks. The worst that can happen is that it goes a bit wrong, and you try it again. And that’s fine.

And so, in the spirit of de-scarying knitting, I thought I’d start off by talking about colourwork – after all, quite a few people said they were scared of it. And I’m not starting with just any colourwork; I’m starting with intarsia, the style of colourwork that scared the beejesus out of me until a few short months ago.

What the hell is intarsia?

Good question. Sounds fancy and magical, doesn’t it? But the basic definition is this:

Intarsia is colourwork where the fabric remains single thickness. Instead of carrying (or “stranding”) the yarn across the back of your work to the next area of that colour, you join in a new yarn for each area – or “block” – of colour.

(It’s a bit of a Frankenstein’s defintion, this one – smushed together from the Ultimate Knitting Bible by Sharon Brant, Rowan Yarns’ definition, and The Spruce Crafts)

Right. Lovely. What does that actually mean?

The simplest way to explain intarsia is to look at it. So, let’s look at this dog cushion. It’s one I designed and knit back in the summer because I’m a ridiculous woman who decided to make my first intarsia project a little bit complicated.

A light teal cushion with a knitted spaniel dog on it

You see all those little patches of colour on that dog? Each one is a different bit of yarn that I joined in, just for that patch*. Each eye? New bit of dark yarn. Pink tongue? Little bit of pink yarn. The teal background on either side of the dog? Two separate bits of yarn. You twist your new yarn round your old yarn at the back of the work when you join it, and that stops it forming holes. Magic, hey?

*this isn’t strictly speaking true, but we’ll get onto that later. So let’s just ignore that for now, shall we?

So, now we’ve established what intarsia is, let me share my hints and tips for how to make a great big success of your next intarsia knitting project, rather than staring at it in fear.

Let me hit you with my intarsia hits and tips

Plan out your intarsia project before you start

I know, I know. Planning is so very boring. But believe me, it’s pretty crucial to making a success of intarsia knitting. I’m not saying you have to swatch every little bit, but have a look at your pattern and have a great big think about how many areas of colour there actually are, and how many different yarns you’re going to need. It’s guaranteed to be more than you think.

For example: I didn’t initially consider that I’d need a new bit of golden yarn for each side of the dog’s nose. Or that I’d need one for the fur to the left of his eyes, one for in between his eyes, and one for to the right.

If you’re using a paper pattern, then I’d crack out a pen and circle each area. If, like me, you’ve come up with something on Stitchmastery and are just hoping for the best, then good luck to you, friend.

Bobbins are your friends when it comes to intarsia

Dark brown yarn wound round a small cardboard bobbin

And what, pray tell, are bobbins?

They’re these things; little bits that you wind your yarn around (technical, I know). I just hacked into some of the endless cardboard that we’ve got knocking about to create mine. You want one for each different area of colour you’re going to knit, so you may find yourself with four of one colour. That’s fine. That’s good. That’ll stop you getting into a flap once you realise you need more golden yarn and all your golden yarn is currently in a big ball attached to your work.

Definitely not speaking from experience there.

Do the twist

Back of a piece of knitting, showing twisted intarsia join between patches of colour

Twisting is the key to intarsia. It’s what stops big holes appearing between each patch of colour, and keeps your work one lovely bit of material. Tin Can Knits have a great blog showing you how to do this twisty join, which I should’ve looked at before starting.

Even though I didn’t check that post out though, I still managed to work it out. See, for example, the twists on the back of the cat cushion I’ve absolutely not left languishing in my WIP pile. They’re pretty much the same thing as the Tin Can Knits join, which shows that even a cavalier fool like me can work intarsia out.

Sometimes you have to cut your losses

I’m not going to lie to you; when you’re working with umpteen different bobbins, you are at some point going to end up in an almighty tangle. If you do, then it’s absolutely fine to just cut your way out of it and start again.

By which I mean to just snip off the working yarns, and rejoin them without the tangling. Not to get in a rage and take scissors to all your work. Let’s keep things in perspective here.

And finally, duplicate stitch is your friend

I’m a big fan of doing what works, regardless of whether it’s the official “correct” thing to do. So remember when I said that technically speaking, I didn’t knit with a new yarn for every single patch of colour in that dog?

That’s because I got myself into one of those almighty tangles, threw a bit of a strop, and decided that the smaller patches of colour could be added later with duplicate stitch. It was a wise choice to make, and one I would absolutely make again.

Because after all, when it comes to knitting there is no single right way to do things, there is just the way that works for you.

Have I missed anything out on my quick jaunt around the intarsia universe? Is there anything you want to see me try and de-scary for you? Let me know.