Socks are cast on at the cuffs and worked from the top down seamlessly in the round. The heel is worked as a traditional heel flap & gusset, then the foot of the sock is also worked in the round down to the toes which are grafted closed with Kitchener Stitch.

Tricolor version: MC- 230 250, 270 yards CC1- 70 80, 90 yards CC2- 20 30, 40 yards

Bicolor version: MC- 230 250, 270 yards, CC1 90 110, 130 yards

The whole cafe always emanated a glow of golden warmth- the dim lighting revealing ribbons of dimension in the old building’s polished woodwork. It always smelled like hot pastries, freshly ground beans and other people’s perfume. Despite this, It wasn’t about the drinks- even though the coffee was perpetually hot and the scratched white mugs were always full. No, this place held more than just that. As she shrugged out of her old cold-weather jacket, she noted that the stained couch by the bay window had been replaced. She carefully set some notebooks and her favorite good-handwriting pen on the little table before it. It sat slightly turned out, facing upper Front street. This spot felt like the hollow beneath a hemlock- cozy, and hidden yet visible. Perfect for observing as she wrote.

Two older men, one an author of tweed and tortoiseshell, the other a fisherman with rainwater and salt still dripping off his boots, were having an animated conversation about zoning ordinances by the back corner. In the alcove by the local art, an earthy mother broke apart a danish much to the glee of her messy haired toddler. Two women, sleek and professional with id cards clipped to their blazers offered crisp smiles as they filled up travel mugs. A young, hip couple sat in the center of the room, (obviously on a romantic getaway), dreaming over stuffed croissants and planning a future.

They all seemed so interesting. Each generation, each path so different from one to the next. She stole a glance back over towards the author. ‘I wish I had written something by now. Why would my work matter, though?’ As she gazed around the room, she realized she wanted to sit down and know every single person’s story. Every single one of these humans had walked a different life, had a different perspective. All of them, valid, worth hearing. It was then she realized that yes, her own story mattered, too. It was the perfect place for putting pen to paper.