I’m writing this onboard a train headed east to Montreal. March was a hard month, and my vacation/escape has come at an opportune time. I don’t have much planned for this trip, some sightseeing, some eating, and some shopping. Montreal is a new city for me, having only stopped briefly in it over 4 years ago on route to Quebec City.
So far on this trip, I’ve read almost an entire book, drank quite a bit of coffee, and have worked a few rounds on a pair of socks destined for my grandfather. I’m hoping to make more of a dent in the leg as the morning progresses.
I worked Saturday afternoon, so yesterday was the first true day of my holidays. I spent time getting my house organized and getting myself organized for this get away. I also took time to repair (albeit poorly) a pair of socks.
I’m a little disappointed this pair hasn’t held up; I’m inclined to blame the yarn, but perhaps I was harder on this pair than others? They were a great mindless pair to make, and I was sorry to see the hole starting in the toe. The day earlier, I was at an event, talking about many objects from long ago, one of which was a sock darker. It’s a funny looking, dumbbell shaped wooden object, and it allowed for conversations about handicrafts and quick consumer culture of today (“What happened when you get a hole in your sock?’ I would ask, and inevitably, the answer was, “Throw them out.”) A few guests would say they remember their mothers/grandmothers using something similar to the sock darker example I had, and one guest remarked that they remember a person in their life using an egg when darning. When I settled in to repair the sock, I don’t have a sock darker of my own, but remembered the anecdote about using an egg. Good enough, I thought.
And here’s where I make my confession: I had no idea what I was doing when I was darning. I watched a few YouTube videos about darning, I had my yarn ready, and I just went for it, aesthetics be, well, darned. I couldn’t find the same colour yarn I used for the toe, but I had quite a bit of the body colour left. While it does stick out very noticibly, I’m rather pleased with the result – it’s almost as if the patch is a visible marker of where I’ve been, of what those socks have been through.
Everything is a skill, which can get better with practice. I’ll likely have to darn more socks to get better at this technique (although I hope I don’t have to do this too often – I rather like my sock collection!). For now, the patch job works, and the socks are ready for their next wear.