A little light grafting

I have a friend who also likes to knit socks.  For some reason she prefers it if I graft the toes, though.  I think she must have been saving this pair for some time.

She has retired and knows every good place for coffee and lunch for miles around.  This was one I had never heard of, a short distance from home.  It was indeed delectable, and her company is always a fine thing.

So after the hot chocolate and before the mushroom and barley soup with goat curd–I started in…

…did the little magic trick that makes the two sides of the sock become one…

And snuggled those stitches in so you couldn’t tell the sewn row from the knit rows.  It has never lost its thrill for me.  The first time I grafted a toe, I was catching a train from Port Adelaide to the city (so I had a while) and I had three books in my bag to consult… as I had a failure of understanding with one, I would switch to the next, and then eventually back to the first having garnered a little more knowledge.  It didn’t go terribly smoothly, but it was the first time.  Now I can graft in public or in a meeting or while holding a conversation.  I love that warm glow of having acquired a skill but still being able to remember when it was an utter mystery or a very immense challenge.