Sock Anatomy

How many different sections form a whole sock?

For these socks, L knitted each part with a different color. The resultant rainbow is both beautiful and an excellent look at what exactly makes up a sock.

Starting at the top, there is a dark yellow cuff hugging the ankle. This cuff is followed by a dark green leg.

Below the green leg is where things really get interesting. The burgundy heel flap leads directly into the light yellow heel turning. Heel turning is notorious for its supposed difficulty. However, you shouldn't be frightened by it. Remember two very important things. 1. Many, many people have done this before and lived. 2. You're knitting - anything you do can always be undone and the fate of the world is not dependent on your sock being completed before midnight.

Unless it is a very special sock.


After the heel turning, some magic happens and that heel turning, heel flap, and leg get connected to the orange portion, which is known as the gusset. The gusset leads into the blue foot of the sock. The final section is known as the toe. The last two sections of the sock are my favorite, mostly because I can remember what they are called.

In the end, all of the segments come together to form a harmonious whole. Isn't it the cutest little sock?

Just Barely

L finished the pair of socks. I really love the pattern on these ones. L wears them all the time.

The sox yarn knits up very well. The socks are lovely and quite wearable.

The last few inches of the second sock were very intense for L. She vacillated constantly about whether or not she would have enough yarn to complete it.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the sock now has a companion and can relax in the comfort and security of belonging to a pair. In the picture above, you can see that it was a very close thing. There was only a short strand of yarn remaining.

Best Foot Forward

L has begun another pair of socks, still using the same skein of Bernat sox yarn. The most exciting part of this sock adventure is that there is some doubt about whether there is enough yarn left to complete the pair.

If the sun hadn't been shining so brightly, you could see in the pictures below that the finished sock and the unknitted yarn have the exact same weight.


L is using the pattern, Best Foot Forward, from 'Knit Socks!' by Betsy Lee McCarthy. She adjusted this pattern by making it slightly smaller than the original and with a shorter leg length. Hopefully, these adjustments will allow her to finish the pair, and not leave a lonely sock doomed to wander the world alone.

Toe-up socks

L's first pair of toe-up socks went well. The Bernat sox yarn finally spoke to her and told her what it would like to be. She enjoyed knitting up from the toe. It was not unusual to see her hopping around on one foot with an unfinished sock on the other.

Here's a handy tip for you. Don't step on knitting needles. It will either be very painful for you, for the knitting needles, or for everyone involved.

These socks have a lovely wave-type pattern that doesn't show up as well as was expected. Try squinting a little bit.


Did you see it? Do you see the waves?

All wave issues, aside, these socks certainly look warm and toasty. Current temperature outside? About seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Maybe the next project should be a wool sweater or something light like that.

socks - finished

After long hours of endless knitting, around and around and around, L completed the pair of red-and-white heart socks.

They are thick and warm, perfect for whatever cold weather April chooses to bring, an occasion that looks more and more impossible with each progressive day. She chose this pattern (Fair Isle Heart Socks) from Just Socks by Lion Brand Yarn.
http://www.amazon.com/Lion-Brand-Yarn-Favorite-Patterns/dp/0307345955

This was her first (and is threatening to be her last) attempt at the Fair Isle technique. Depending on what time of day it is, she is more or less positive about it. The negativity generally surfaces around mealtimes and after ten o'clock at night.

Obviously, they look just as socks should look: quite peaceful, no holes, an attractive pattern, and possessing all the requisite parts.

Currently, L spends her time combing through a multiplicity of sock books, looking for the perfect pattern to match her yarn. This is a little more mystical than it sounds, since she insists that the pattern will speak to her when she finds it. Or is it the yarn that will speak?