2 turned wood darning eggs, measuring 6" high and 11" high. Date and maker unknown. Condition: Fair to Good
I inherited these darning eggs from my paternal grandmother more than twenty years ago. She lived in Western Massachusetts most of her life, and was accomplished at all forms of needlework. She had a degree in Home Economics from Simmons College in Boston, Massachusetts, and worked as a social worker during the Depression. I do not know whether she also inherited these tools, as I did, or bought them new in the 1920s or 1930s. Darning eggs were used as supports for the tedious work of repairing holes in socks and sweaters.
Neither darning egg is marked with a maker’s name or date. The smaller one measures approximately 6” long; its quaint, turned handle is permanently affixed to the egg. The larger one is a multi-purpose, “Swiss Army”-styled, modular darning-tool-and-carry-case all in one. Fully assembled, it measures 11”, but the egg-shaped top can be removed and used alone, or attached to either the top or bottom section of the carry case to make two shorter darning tools measuring 5” and 7”. Originally, the pieces probably fitted and held together neatly and securely, but the wood has expanded and all the joins have loosened over time.
Inside the carry case was an assortment of 8.5” unmarked steel sock needles ranging from Size 0000 to Size 00 – very small by today’s standards – and a crochet hook marked “Milward 13”. I do not know whether the needles and hook came with the darning egg, or were added later by my grandmother.
In 2015, I used these darning eggs as originally intended to mend a pair of socks. In one of the images that accompanies this post, you can see that once I put the darning egg inside the sock, the support it provided made it easier to see and overstitch the threadbare areas. You can read more about my observations on the current interest in repairing and mending garments, and how to use a darning egg on the CKC Blog: “The Art of Mending” published on June 26, 2015. I am now very grateful to have these simple, specialized tools on hand.
]]>First, I knitted the yellow piece, which was about 5 inches wide at the start. As many beginning knitters do, I accidentally added stitches, so the width at my last row was 6.75 inches. The piece measured 4.75 inches from bottom to top. The yarn was probably wool.
I had watched my mother knit slipper socks for my father. They were blue with a wondrous stranded pattern in red. After the heel, she worked two sets of 2 x 2 stranded checks, for a total of four rounds. Then came a decorative diamond shaped pattern, and finally another 4 rounds of 2 x 2 checks.
"Mom, I want to knit checks," I told her. She gave me more wool, and told me how to knit checks. I offer written instructions, all these years later:
Following her spoken instructions, I created a (mostly) checkerboard pattern with textures. But, "Mom, I want to knit colors!" I said, thinking of the checks on the slipper socks she made.
She gave me multi-color yarn in the Fiesta colorway. I guess that satisfied me for a time. The finished piece was 5 to 6 inches wide and 10-ish inches from cast on to bind off.
My mom influenced the course of my life by teaching me how to knit. I am glad she did.
]]>I ran across it several times over the next 30-some years, but didn't crochet it again until 2017. Our daughters' piano teacher and our good friend remarried, and she and her new husband didn't need anything at all. I tucked a crocheted picot heart in a card for the couple, writing that I hoped they would think of the heart as a symbol of all the good things to come. "It was perfect!" my friend said.
In 2020, I needed to write a bunch of extra-special thank you notes. Crocheted hearts might be just what I needed to help me not just say, but show my gratitude.
One recipient was a life-long fan of The University of Texas at Austin, so he received a burnt orange picot heart. He also enjoyed iced tea, and I thought he might use his crocheted heart as a coaster. The yarn was Brown Sheep Company's Cotton Fleece, crocheted with a U. S. size H-8 (5mm) hook.
Friends who raised buffalo gave me a big box of buffalo fur and hair plucked from bushes, trees, and barbed wire fences. Their picot heart was crocheted with buffalo fur which I spun and plied with a hand spindle. The yarn was bulky and was crocheted with a U. S. size K-10.5 (6.5mm) hook.
What will people do with the crocheted hearts? Maybe they will add a piece of thread to hang the heart as an ornament, glue the heart into a scrapbook, or give it to their Valentine. Maybe they will just leave it lying around where they can see it from time to time, and let it remind them that their efforts were appreciated.
The red hearts are crocheted with No. 10 crochet cotton and a Susan Bates aluminum hook, U. S. steel size 4 (2mm). They are about 1.75 x 1.75 inches.
]]>When it came time to craft these holiday table mats, my received button collection came in handy. The plan was to use holiday-themed crochet applique to embellish a pair of shaggy felt rectangles.
I crocheted corrugated leaves, inspired by similar leaves in Irish Crochet lace. Crocheted with red yarn and arranged in a wide circle with stems pointing inward, the corrugated leaves made a pretty good approximation of a poinsettia flower. That was appropriate, because live poinsettia petals are specialized leaves. I tried adding crocheted green leaves, because poinsettias have those as well. No matter how I arranged them, they overwhelmed the red "petals." The piece needed green though, so I added green buttons, which probably came from the estate of one of my aunts.
A slightly altered, crocheted fern frond made a reasonable Christmas tree. My then five-year-old daughter Ella helped me choose the best red buttons to decorate the tree. Ella wanted to decorate her own tree mat, so we found a crocheted leaf, sewed it to a scrap of felt, and sewed button ornaments on it. Unfortunately, I could find only a very small photo of Ella's holiday mat.
The edges of the shaggy felt were wavy. Since the felt was synthetic, I was reluctant to press it with a hot iron. The edges needed a trim or something else to weigh them down and flatten them.
My sister-in-law's sister, Sharon, had worked in a fabric store and collected several half-gallon tubs of buttons. Sharon decided she would never use them all, so she passed them along to me. With a trove of buttons like hers, I could afford to be extravagant. I sewed a solid line of buttons just inside the edges of each holiday table mat. That flattened the edges.
I am grateful that people thought of me when they had sewing, knitting, and crochet supplies they didn't need. Naturally, I couldn't keep everything, so I passed along items I wouldn't use in a thoughtful and respectful way.
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