I've told this story before... It's family lore that my grandmother, the Wise Hilda after whom this blog is named, used to earn a penny turning the heel of socks knitted by women in her neighbourhood.
I've become a bit of an expert in sock knitting, given the articles I've written, and the book contributions I've made...
and I do dearly love it.
I've always got a sock project on the go. At the moment, I have two. The plain grey self-patterned pair that I started to take to a movie, and an orangey pair in my standard ribbed sock pattern. No specific requirement drove those, just a fancy for the yarn.
I've finished up all my pending design and sample projects, and the only other current thing I have on the go is the Scurvy Shawl, which is fiendishly complex and attention-needy.
So the two socks are growing fast, between conference calls and a trip to the theatre. (Twelve Angry Men is not a comedy, BTW.)
By chance, I found myself turning two heels yesterday.... one on a grey sock, one on an orange sock. Halfway through the second, working entirely on autopilot, it hit me: turning the heel of a sock is the most natural thing in the world for me.
Wise Hilda would be proud.
But also she'd probably be a little disappointed that I'm not charging for it...