Third Time’s a Charm

January 5, 2012

Recognizing your mistakes and know how to correct them is one of those things you need to do if you want to succeed — with knitting and pretty much everything else in life.

And so it was with the Brattleboro hat. The pattern, in the copy of  New England Knits  that I borrowed from the library, caught my eye  — a ribbed band and a moss stitch crown. Add a button for flair and you’ve got a lovely headcovering, one you can pull snugly over your ears.

Take 1: As I’ve said before we are a large-headed people, so it didn’t take me long to realize that the crown I was making just wasn’t going to fit. See how I’d already been decreasing for a few rows (line of stitches near marker) and it was only about as wide as the ribbed band?

Even though I didn’t know who the recipient of the hat would be, chances were it would be a member of my extended clan and that meant Big Head.* So I ripped back to before the decrease and started again, fully intending to modify the pattern. That’s when I discovered that I hadn’t followed the pattern correctly. That pesky “every other row” had escaped my notice.

Take 2: Flush with the excitement of discovering that the error was mine and not the pattern, I moved quickly to reknit the crown. A bit too quickly it turns out. It’s easy to get overly confident when you’re knitting moss stitch in the round, giving the piece a quick glance every now and again.

mismatched moss stitch

Note the seismic shift in the moss stitch. Seems obvious, yes? Well, it took me several inches to notice it.The second ripping ensued, ready for the next attempt.
Ripping out crown of knit hat

Take 3: It really is a lovely hat. My dear niece Nora (even more lovely) approves.

Nora in Brattleboro Hat

*When my kids were younger, they and cousins Ben and Nora (she of the hat) would play a game that entailed hiding from their parents, as they sat around the supper table, and tossing the occasional stuffed animal, sock ball, or other soft item toward the parents. Giggling and scampering were involved. They dubbed this game “B.H.” It was only after several years of observing (secretly, of course) this game that we parents discovered that B.H. stood for Big Heads. Yup, that’s us!

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