Zen and the Art of the Heel Turn

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...