Over on Substack last week, I wrote about the joy of doing nothing with your knitting for a while. Letting the needles rest and enjoying the pause between seasons. And I still believe in that. Sometimes we need the breathing space.

But if you’re starting to feel itchy fingers and want to shift out of that aimless, project-less space, this is the blog for you. Autumn and winter are often the most productive, cosy months for knitters – gifts, big projects, new cast-ons calling from the stash. And the best way to enjoy them without stress is to get a little gentle planning in now.

Searching for autumn knitting project ideas or just need a soft nudge to pick up your needles again? Here’s how to break through the late-summer knitting listlessness and set yourself up for a productive, enjoyable autumn.

You know that awkward bit of the year when you leave the house in a t-shirt, return in a scarf, and briefly consider hibernation in the middle? That’s right now in the UK. But instead of sulking up at the sky, I’ve decided to lean into it. This is PRIME season for transitional knits – the ones you get to wear again and again, layered, re-layered, sometimes completely on their own.

Despite having lived in this country my entire life I still march out optimistically in sandals on “sunny” mornings only for it to hail mid-afternoon. But I’m learning gradually – on my most organised of days my bag conceals a light wrap, and my shoulders are usually sporting something clever with buttons or ties.

Consider this your edit of tried-and-true patterns that make fickle weather your playground.

My attitude to sustainability, in terms of both my knitting and clothing in general, snuck up on me to be honest. One minute I was happily casting on a ribbed beanie with a half-price acrylic blend. The next, I was squinting at care labels in the fitting room like some kind of wool detective. These days, every shop-bought knit gets mentally deconstructed: could I make it? Would I want to? Is the yarn ethical, or is it secretly 90% plastic and empty promises?

What started with my handknits has spilled into the rest of my wardrobe too – jeans, t-shirts, socks (yes, even the underwear drawer isn’t safe). If I’m not making it, I want to know who did, how and why. It’s developed into a practice of curiosity and care. Like knitting itself, really.

It’s got me thinking about the ways in which we can extend our sustainability to all the different elements of knitting as a hobby – the sourcing of yarn (both in terms of fibre and the purveyor), the making of the garment, all the way through to the long-term care and potential recycling. And here’s what I came up with…

WIPs – why we start (and subsequently stall)

A seasoned knitter will know this scene very well. A basket brimming full with beautiful beginnings. A neckline here, half a sock there, that mohair number you swore you’d finish last spring. But somehow, the call of a new cast-on always wins you over. You are not alone. In fact, I’d wager most knitters have a WIP or six eyeing them from the corner of the room like mildly disappointed (and neglected) pets.

I’m not a monogamous knitter. I like a little variety: a stockinette-for-TV project, something challenging enough to keep my brain firing, a bit of selfish knitting, and something for someone else (when I’m feeling generous or guilty. Sometimes both.) But I find when I’m juggling more than four or five projects, I stop making meaningful progress on any of them and suddenly my lovely relaxing hobby that is knitting turns into a pit-of-the-stomach dread-fest. My sweet spot is to have two or three projects on my needles. Enough to feel like I have options, but not so many I descend into knitting paralysis.

I’ve been thinking about how we get from “Oh no, not another cast-on” to “Look! I finished a thing!” and actually finish your knitting projects. Maybe together we can whittle down that pile of discarded WIPs into an orderly stack of beautiful finished objects.

So let’s talk strategies.

Some knitters fly by the seat of their handmade shorts, casting on with nothing more than blind faith. Others build systems. Glorious, glorious systems. I’m firmly in the latter camp with my spreadsheets, Ravelry pages, sensitive skin yarn libraries and all. Because nothing curdles the joy of a new WIP quite like realising you’ve knitted this exact sleeve before. Twice. And you still didn’t write down what modifications you made. (I’ve been burned before as you can tell.)

Here’s a peek inside how I keep my projects, knitting wish list and yarn stash in working order, and why it makes my knitting life infinitely easier (and, dare I say, more satisfying).