Part II of the Soulless Socks
So, as previously mentioned, wearing through the soles of a pair of hand knit socks is a pain in the neck. Pain in the foot, I should say. And then you pull out your darning egg, and you darn the darned thing. And then next thing you know, you wear through the darn, or around the edges, and suddenly you have holes again.
This is a red sock, with a black darn on it, and a hole through which you can see my brown darning egg.
So, fine. That didn’t work for very long. My mother snips a thread just at the ankle, at this point, and carefully pulls the foot of the sock away from the leg. She reknits the foot, from the ankle down, and ends up with some very lovely, but varied, socks.
Sometimes the feet match each other, although not the legs.
Sometimes the feet match, but the legs don’t.
I thought about doing this, but what I really wanted to was to replace the heel of the sock. A huge patch, right on top of the existing sock, so that all the little ends would be hidden, all the sole would covered with new and stronger yarn, and I could keep enjoying the lovely patterns on the top of the sock. I mean, when I make DNA socks, with RNA ribbons, I don’t really want to throw out the entire foot of the sock, just because the bottom of the sock wore through. The top is still perfectly fine in most cases. So I knitted a replacement sock heel, and sewed it on.
darned sock new heeled sock
The new heel was a little bulky, but it covered the entire darn, and the yarn was extra strong, so I was unlikely to wear through the new heel anytime soon.
Then, the yarn wore out right next to the new heel.
FINE. I’ll replace the entire sole of the sock! I knit a new sole, including a heel turn, and sewed that on!
darn and hole lovely new sole
Surely that would work? Strong new yarn, all the holes sealed. Sure, the sole of the sock was now two or three layers thick, but that just made for a comfy pad to walk on, right?
Until the new sole wore out.
That would be the black darn from before poking through the hole I wore through the new sole under the heel, exactly where all the other holes were. If I darned that, I’d be looking at four layers of sock yarn, and that started to get uncomfortable.
And with that, I threw the socks away. My lovely, hand knit socks with a DNA helix on the top went into the trash. I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Time to try something else entirely.
(To Be Continued)