What does it take for you to be willing to branch off into a new fiber or technique? Are you eager to try new things, or do you like to stick to tried-and-true yarn and patterns?

For the last year, I've been trying to figure out how to get flax to grow in my climate. Here in coastal NC, it gets hot and humid--fast. As a cool-weather crop, growing flax according to a ​“typical” timetable is just not possible here, as evidenced by the massive failure I had last year. From a whole raised bed, I got just a handful of stalks of flax, all very stunted in height, and then accidentally over-retted them. SIGH. 

This year I'm back at it, with two different harvests. The first was the Linore variety, planted in October and harvested in early May, making the growing season almost double the 100–110 days that's typical for flax. I planted the second, the Avian variety, on MLK Day and harvested Memorial Day weekend, putting the growing season at a much more reasonable 124 days.

Even if the super-long growing season wasn't ideal for the Linore flax, it was really nice to look out my kitchen window and see it growing throughout the winter. And while the stems aren't as fine as the second harvest, the earlier-planted Linore flax grew much taller than the Avian flax did.

Both harvests were much more bountiful than last year's. The main determination I've made is that it's primarily about planting time and how thickly the seeds need to be sown. (Very, it turns out.) 

Secondary factors that I'm considering for next year are location, soil health, and water. Generally, I prefer not to water plants if I can avoid it—we get an average of 50–60 inches of rain per year, so it seems silly to water plants! But the flax seems to enjoy consistent moisture, so maybe a rain barrel is in my future. 

Regardless of all the challenges these harvests continue to face, I think I’m on the right track here! There are so many variables at play—from the variety, and timing, to sun, moisture, and soil conditions, that it will take several more crops to know which variety I prefer, as I work to fine-tune my understanding for this particular climate.

​And I've found yet another cold-season variety I want to try this fall: Aramis, a French variety from Landis Valley Village Farm & Museum. 

But in the meantime, it’s time to start processing flax into fiber so I can actually get to spinning it! More on that soon, and if you don't see it here on the blog, be sure to check out my YouTube channel and newsletter for the most recent updates.

If you've been around this blog, then you know that I adore pockets. As I began sewing garments, I kept my eyes out for any pattern that had pockets, especially dresses with pockets. 

I made this tunic several years ago, and I'm sad to say that the pockets have always been a problem. There are a lot of reasons why: 

• I didn't have quite enough fabric for a longer version of this tunic, and when I put anything in the pockets (phone, keys, seashells), the weight of the thing would drag the pockets down below the hem. Not the look I was going for.
• I've made several longer versions of this tunic. The overall structure of the tunic means that all the weight of the garment hangs from the shoulders. Even when the garment is long enough to have pockets that don't peek out the hem, any weight in the pockets means it sits awkwardly on my shoulders. 
• The A-line shape of this garment makes the pockets prone to snagging on things—door handles, drawers, etc. This has happened with all the versions of this tunic I've made. But it was especially bad with this version, because I chose a heavier weight fabric for the pockets. At the time, I thought it would be helpful to have strong pockets, and the contrast color would be a fun secret. But it never really worked out that way.

The first time the pockets snagged and ripped a hole, I mended it with a patch of the same ikat fabric. The second time, the tear was much bigger, and I knew the pockets had to go. I took both out with a seam ripper, leaving two gaping holes in the side seams of the tunic.

I opted for a patch on the outside, and carefully matched the pattern over the holes. This is easier said than done with a true ikat fabric, like this one, because it's all hand-tied, hand-dyed, and hand-loomed. It's what makes the beauty of the fabric, and it's not something that perfectly lines up like a machine-made print would. Plus, I've been wearing (and machine washing) this tunic for three or four years now. The tunic fabric has faded some, while the patch fabric is still nice and fresh. 

After matching patterns, I used a fell stitch to attach the patch to the side of the tunic that had the tear. Then I used a running stitch to meld the patch to the main fabric. The patch was larger than I'm used to, about 4"x6", but luckily, all the tearing happened on one side of the fabric, so I didn't need to make multiple patches.

Then I trimmed the patch to match the contours of the seamed edge. I'd originally sewn this dress with French seams, but after years of wear, there wasn't enough fabric to make new French seams. Instead, I did a running backstitch for the new seams to close the holes where the pockets had been. (I could have just as easily done this on the sewing machine, but it would have taken more time to clear off the sewing desk and set up the machine than it took to do by hand.) After pressing the seam to one side, I used a catchstitch or cross stitch to tack down the edge. It's not my favorite finish, but it's held up well over several washes. 

So, were these pockets a mistake? They were definitely a learning experience! 

My first adventure in "sweater surgery," as I like to call it, was with this sweater. I spent lots of time on it, and after steeking, found it was just too tight in the shoulders and sleeves. I was incredibly disappointed, and found myself at a standstill. I showed it to an experienced Fair Isle knitter, who gave me permission to chop it up and do whatever I wanted. She said, "Who says the sleeves have to match the body? Why NOT take it in a wild and crazy direction?" These are words I've lived by (at least in my sweater knitting) ever since. 

​With my most recent sweater, I had no way to truly check the fit until I'd steeked the armhole openings. I also was having so much fun knitting that I wanted to work "just one more repeat" when I should have stopped. 

The result was a sweater that had something goofy going on at the shoulders, and was way too long (but not long enough for a sweater dress!).

It can be really frustrating to work so hard and have and end result that you're just not happy with. Luckily, knitting offers endless possibilities for repair and renovation.

The first thing I did was work on the shoulders. I'd worked short rows for shoulder shaping, and maybe did a little too much shaping. I clipped one stitch, unraveled about four rows total, then grafted everything back together. 

Next, I clipped a single stitch where I wanted to shorten the sweater, then unpicked that row, placing the live stitches on a circular needle about 3 sizes smaller than what I used to knit the sweater. Since I wasn't going to knit from that, needle, it didn't affect gauge, and it was much easier to grab the stitches with the smaller needle.

I could have knit new ribbing, but instead decided to graft the old ribbing back on, so that involved cutting off the extra and picking up the live stitches for the ribbing. Then a week's worth of grafting! 

When it comes to seaming knits, mattress stitch is my favorite technique. In this video, I seam the sleeves into the armholes of my scrappy stranded colorwork sweater.

​But...I didn't stop there. I made a bunch of swatches to demonstrate different scenarios you might face in using mattress stitch. 

Note that these swatches are at a looser gauge than I'd normally knit. The goal was for the camera to be able to pick up the spaces between stitches and for you to be able to see exactly what I'm doing. 

First up - the basics. When everything lines up, and you're just sewing two pieces together. 

The biggest thing to remember when working mattress stitch is that you're working with the right side of the garment facing you. The seam will curl to the inside to give the garment structure. This is a little different than most sewing, which is done with the "wrong" or inside of the garment facing you. 

Next - seaming a cast-on or bound-off edge to a vertical edge (selvedge) of knitting.

Followed by seaming cast-on to cast-on edges, or bound-off to bound-off, or cast-on to bound-off.

What happens when things don't line up perfectly? That's the topic of the next video. 

And lastly, what happens when you're working at an angle because of shaping in the garment? This one does require a little bit of advance planning, but by now you should be an expert in mattress stitch!