I started my sock last night. I used a modified round toe.
See, my feet are silly. They are smallish, but wide. And my toes…. My toes are kind of short and stubby. My first toe is longer than my big toe. The rest of my toes aren’t straight across, but they aren’t a nice sharp angle either. I would show you a picture of my toes, but my toenail polish is chipped. And, well, it’s not that I’m obsessive. Or compulsive. Honest. It’s just that chipped toenail polish really bothers me on a fundamental personal level. Okay, maybe I AM a little OCD about it. So, pointy-toed socks? They do not get my love.
Doesn’t it look like a delicious little hat?
Well, it isn’t! It’s a toe! Ha!
The classic round toe calls for you to cast on 8 stitches over 4 needles and then work a plain round. Then you k1f&b in each stitch. Then you work a plain round. Then, because 16 stitches does not make a sock, you k1 and k1f&b, then knit two plain rounds. Then it’s k2 and k1f&b and three plain rounds, and so on from there until you have the number of stitches for which you are aiming.
It’s really pretty.
It’s really pointy.
I, because I fiddle with things, figured out that if I cast on 6 stitches over 3 needles and then limited my number of plain rounds (I use one plain round the first go ’round and then two plain rounds every time thereafter), I could use the same pattern of increases while creating a MUCH roomier toe. It’s still pretty, though not as swirly in texture as the classic round toe, and I just like the rhythm of it.
You might observe that there’s a little ring at the top/center of the sock. That is true. It’s from casting on and knitting a plain round. You can eliminate it by going immediately into your increases, but it doesn’t bother me, so I leave it. For some reason, I think it’s kind of silly and charming. Casting on 6 instead of 8 means I don’t have the little hole that exists in the center of 8 stitches and it means I can increase up to 80 stitches (well, 81, but I leave one increase off and it’s perfect) without really thinking about it.
Yeah, 80 stitches. I have been making socks on 1s and 0s and my foot is really wide. This is one reason I am kind of dreading the leg portion of knee socks. I’m STARTING with 80 stitches and while Grumperina refers to her shapely calves, if she’s complaining about 108 stitches then I’m going to be in for a world of hurt. My legs are fat, people.
Ah, well. Dreams of knee socks carry a stiff penalty of knitting, I suppose.
Not that these are going to be kneesocks. I’ll save that special torture for the pirate socks. I imagine I’ll knit on these until I get tired of them, and then bind off and call it a success. Given that they are going to be (more than likely) a pretty simple ribbed pattern, I’m guessing that I’ll have yarn left over.
At least with toe-up socks, and this new Widdershins heel, I can get the foot out of the way first. The foot of socks is the bane of my sock knitting existence. The leg gets all the fun! While the foot, poor foot, seems like a mile-long slog through the snow.
Not that I’ve ever slogged through snow. I grew up in Atlanta, moved to Thailand, and then moved to Florida where I’ve pretty much lived ever since (except for a few brief Atlanta interludes).
Anyway. The sock, it is calling to me, and I must answer.