Hello, my lovely knitting friends!
So here’s the thing. Our local yarn store announced their winter knit-along three weeks ago, and I signed up with the enthusiasm of someone who has absolutely no idea what they’re getting themselves into. The project? The famous Musselberg hat. You know the one—that gloriously textured, beautifully structured masterpiece that every knitter worth their DPNs has either made or added to their Ravelry queue with a solemn promise of “someday.”
Well, someday has arrived, and I am currently locked in an epic battle with the very first instruction: the provisional cast-on.
How To Get Started
But first, a confession: the Musselberg doesn’t start with a provisional cast-on. It starts with 8 stitches on 3 or 4 double-point needles. And I did that! Even though I hadn’t used DPNs in over 15 years, I gave it a shot. The crown shaping wasn’t beautiful, but I could have lived with it. I knitted about 2 ½ inches of that crown. While my knitting and DPNs rested in my project bag, tucked into another project bag, alongside a third project bag for the knitting class I was teaching, the stitches slid right off those DPNs. AAARGH! So…I decided to start the pattern after the crown-shaping section, using a provisional cast-on for knitting in the round.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love the Musselberg pattern. I’ve admired countless finished versions on Ravelry and in my local yarn store, each one more perfect than the last. I’ve curated a special skein of fingering weight yarn for this very project—a stunning hand-dyed beauty, bamboo alpaca fingering weight from Expression Fiber Arts in shades of green that practically begged to become a Musselberg, along with a sparkly spring-like hand-dyed from a box from Twice-Sheared Sheep. I’ve watched the tutorial videos. I’ve read the pattern notes. I’ve even cleared space in my project basket, which, if you’re a knitter, you know is basically the equivalent of preparing for a royal visit.
But have I cast on? Readers, I have not.
Procrastination Is My Friend?
Instead, I’ve accomplished several important tasks that definitely couldn’t wait. I reorganized my stitch marker collection by color, then by size, then by “vibe.” I wound three skeins of yarn that weren’t even intended for immediate projects. I knit an entire dishcloth using cotton I found in the back of my stash. I made crockpot meat loaf. I alphabetized my knitting books. Twice.
The problem, you see, is that provisional cast-ons occupy a very specific space in the knitting universe—that shadowy realm where you know how to do something in theory, but the actual execution feels like it requires a degree in engineering and possibly a prayer to the fiber gods. There are waste yarn options, crochet chain methods, and that thing with the knitting needle and the other needle and some kind of magical twist that definitely made sense when I watched the video but now seems as clear as mud. (It’s called “magic loop,” and it makes my brain hurt.)
Every time I pick up my needles and that beautiful shades-of-green skein, I think, “Today’s the day!” And then I remember the provisional cast-on is lurking there at the very beginning, like a dragon guarding the treasure of the actual knitting part. So I put everything down and suddenly remember I need to check my email. Or reorganize my knitting bag. Or research whether I really do need that interchangeable needle set I’ve been eyeing.
Meanwhile, the knit-along group chat is humming along. (All names are pseudo, to protect the innocent.) Sarah’s already past the brim decreases. Michelle has posted seventeen progress photos. Even Karen—who just learned to knit last spring—has her double-points cast-on done and is merrily working through the increases. And Stephen’s watermelon-colored hat is flying off his needles! Their collective progress mocks me gently from my phone screen.
The beautiful irony is that once I actually do the cast-on, it will probably take me ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if I mess up and have to start over. That’s it. All this avoidance, all this creative procrastination, all these reorganized stitch markers and perfectly wound yarn cakes—all to avoid fifteen minutes of slightly fiddly setup work.
Knitting Anxiety?
But here’s what I’ve learned through years of knitting: sometimes the anticipation of a challenge is harder than the challenge itself. The provisional cast-on isn’t actually a dragon. It’s just a technique, and I know how to do techniques. I’ve knit sweaters, for heaven’s sake. I’ve done four-color colorwork! I can even read a knitting chart, albeit slowly and repetitively.
So tomorrow—well, probably tomorrow—I’m going to sit down with that gorgeous yarn, my favorite needles, a cup of tea, and yes, my laptop open to that tutorial video one more time. I’m going to cast on provisionally like the competent knitter I actually am.
Right after I reorganize my yarn stash by weight. It’s really gotten out of hand.
Happy knitting, everyone! And if you need me, I’ll be the one in the knit-along group finally posting a cast-on photo… eventually.
UPDATE: The provisional cast-on was a complete BUST! I ended up with tangled yarn, stitches slipping off the needles, and a completely frustrated MESS! Soooo…I casted on 128 stitches and started knitting. I’ll finish the 3/4 of the hat, then go back and pick up stitches to shape the first crown. It may take longer, but it just might save my sanity!
Musselberg ho!
Happy Knitting!
Anita