Let me tell you about my history with darning.
When I was a teenager, in Junior High School, every girl had to take 'Home Economics,' and that, of course, included learning how to darn. I learned, but I certainly had no desire or inclination to use the skill.
(Now .... many of you are about to learn something about me you didn't know...)
Several years later, I was married to a man who did everything in his power to make me domestic. Including expecting me to darn his socks.
That was just one of the reasons that marriage only lasted 7 months.
Fast forward now to 2008, in which I learned to knit socks. Remember these?
Well, during our holiday in September, I wore those socks almost daily, for several hours a day -- they were lovely first thing in the morning when it was cool and damp, and then again in the evening when the sun would go down. I hand-washed them a few times, and then when we got home, tossed them in the machine. Ouch! One of them came out looking like this...
What's a knitter to do?
Darn it! ($20-odd bucks a pair, and three weeks of knitting?? Of COURSE, I'm going to suddenly remember that I know how to darn!)
Hmmmm.... not a tennis ball to be found anywhere (which is odd, because Michael plays tennis, but he was sound asleep when I went searching; this also explains why these pictures are dark and crappy -- it's 5 a.m. at my house. But I digress...)
But every self-respecting boater has one of these laying around somewhere...
Into the sock it went, and out came the darning needle...
Well, it's been 40 years or so, so the darning skills are a little rusty...
... but, hey, it's darned, darn it.
Then I added another clever idea...
... I've knit two slip-stitch 'heel flaps' that I'm now going to sew on both socks -- so the darning job won't even show. And my socks will be stronger than ever!
Which is a good thing because those plain black ones I'm knitting are taking FOREVER. :-)