Tír Chonaill

Woolfest is just a fortnight away! I am pleased to say I am mostly prepared (hoping to hear about the whereabouts of the last of my stock today, fingers crossed). I’ve produced two new designs to launch as kits at the event (with yarn and project bags), and sent the patterns off to my printers yesterday. As it really isn’t long till they are published, I thought I’d show you a few photographs in advance. So here’s the first design: it is a Donegal wrap or throw, and I’ve called it Tír Chonaill.

The wrap is knitted in “Soft Donegal” – the same lovely Irish yarn I used for the Bláithín designs. As well as the fresh, Spring-like shades I used for the cardigans, there are a number of deep jewel-like shades in the Donegal Yarns palette that really speak to each other, and which I wanted to bring together. The throw mingles three of these rich shades against a creamy báinín background.

The palette and pattern were inspired by Medieval tapestries. And the name of the design also has historic associations: Tír Chonaill was the name of the last independent Gaelic sovereignty in Ireland: a kingdom which, until the Flight of the Earls in 1607, covered most of what later became County Donegal.

The finished design is about 3 feet square – just right for a wrap or lap blanket – though the tiled repeats mean that it is easily customised for those who would prefer a smaller pram blanket, or a larger throw. It is knit in the round, steeked and finished using similar techniques as those used on the Bláithín cardigans. And the pattern is surprisingly simple to knit — because the yarn is worsted-weight, and the background shades are never carried over long distances, the throw works up quickly, and would be fine for someone reasonably new to colourwork. You can see the steek-sandwich and i-cord edging here:

One of the things I really like about this sort of tiled design is the way that the repeat creates different lines of visual continuity. This only works over a reasonably large area – so this is an ideal design for this particular repeat.

The rich tweedy colours – which really speak to, and blend with, each other – add to this sense of continuity as well.

We took these photographs at St Anthony’s Chapel, just down the road in Holyrood Park. When I’m there, I always think of the ascent of Arthur’s Seat in James Hogg’s Confessions of a Justified Sinner.

Unfortunately, it was too cloudy for brockenspectres when we took these photographs. But even when there are teenagers and tourist buddies about (it is a popular spot) I always find the atmosphere around the chapel just a wee bit eerie.

. . . an atmosphere which was only added to by a little wind and rain.

There were also several canny rooks knocking about the ruins of the chapel, but none of them wanted to participate in our wuthering photoshoot, unfortunately.

So, if you like this design, I’ll have it available in kit form at Woolfest! The pattern now has its own ravelry page, and printed and digital copies of the pattern will also be available shortly after the launch. I may be able to offer some kits as well, depending on the level of interest.

Arthur’s Seat

I was going to tell you about volcanic plugs and St Anthony’s well, about James Hogg’s Confessions and the brocken-spectre, but as soon as I got here this morning I knew it was just about the hill and me. Arthur’s Seat lies at the heart of Edinburgh, and since I’ve lived here, it’s been at the heart of my life as well. I can see it from the back window of my home, and I’ve walked here with countless friends, with my dad and with my sister. It is a place of happiness and exuberance: Tom and I like to run around the hill in all conditions in our trusty fell shoes; we bury our home brewed mead in a secret place , and merrily drink it here each Christmas morning. Spectacular from all angles, and visible almost everywhere in the city, the hill has also provided a dramatic backdrop for many a crafty photo.

But Arthur’s Seat is a place with sad associations, too: a few years ago, a fine young man who was my childhood friend threw himself to his death from the nearby crags. And shortly after Belle died, Tom brought his own grieving brother to the summit.

In comparison with Arthur’s Seat, Edinburgh’s other hills really do not feel like hills at all. At 823 feet it is not high, but the ground is steep, and very rough in places. For someone with a wonky leg and limited energy reserves, it is quite a serious proposition.

I found the going very tough indeed, and all I could think of was: I used to just run up here

How complacent and ungrateful was the able-bodied me, how little she valued her nimble, speedy limbs. Weak and unsteady as they are, I value my limbs now, by God.

It was early morning, and the summit took on a spooky aspect against the rising sun.

I wanted to follow our usual route, which is quite steep and rocky near the top. I abandoned the poles, and resorted to lopsided scrambling on my hands and knees.

Made it, Ma.

The last of the seven hills. The highest point in Edinburgh. I felt deeply emotional, but not in the least triumphant. It had been a difficult climb, and, precisely because the hill is so familiar, the comparison with the me of just a few months ago felt quite raw and painful.
At the summit, a nice young, American couple, who had risen with the dawn like us, asked Tom to take their photo.
“Do you know how high we are?”
“251 metres”
“Are you local to Edinburgh? Do you often come up here?”
“Well we did, but Kate has had a stroke. We’re just getting back into the swing of things again.”

I managed to hold it together for a photo at the trig point.

then it was time to inch my way back down.

As I descended I realised that, though my weak leg was very shaky, it was really much better than it had been when we climbed Blackford Hill, only a few weeks ago. I had to regard this as a walk of new beginnings, rather than old memories.

Bruce frolicked in the grass . . .

. . . and lost his ball.

The tourists were starting to come up as we were coming down. Kids on a geography field trip clutched clipboards and pencils. An Italian asked her tour guide about Edinburgh’s seven hills. Everyone stopped us to remark on the lovely morning. . .

. . . and, in the end, it really was.

shade

Continuing the colour-related theme, here is a tank I made quite a while ago, as a sort of exercise in shading. At Woolfest last year, I bought four colours of some lovely Artisan Threads BFL. One was a soft rose, and the other three were slightly different shades of green/grey.

As you can see, the three green/grey shades seem quite tonally close. . . it is only when you examine the skeins and their slight variations that you see how different the colours are. For example, at a distance, the unwound skein on the far left, looks very similar to the one second from right, but their composition is not the same at all. Here, in two photos that are true to their actual colours, is second-from-right:

and here is far-left:

Close up, you can see that second-from-right is more greyish, with lots of brown and yellow tones, while far-left is much more determinedly green, with pinkish-purplish hints running through it. I suppose it is the use of the same natural dyes in different combinations, as much as the variegations from the dyeing method, that make these skeins so complex . . . and this stuff must be what dyers think about all the time. . . anyway, I loved both the proximity and the distance of the colours in these skeins, and wanted to knit something to show them off. So I worked a few swatches, developed a shaded-stripe sequence from my four colours, and then knit a tank following Wendy Bernard’s great top-down instructions in Custom Knits. This is an interesting method: you begin provisionally; start knitting flat at the back underarms; work up and over the shoulders, then down the front, before joining back to front at the underarms, and working down to the bottom edging. This was the first time I’d tried this construction, and I rather liked it. But I am such a sucker for the speed and rhythm of stockinette in the round that I would be tempted to work bottom-up and steek the armholes, simply to avoid the purls . . . (I seem to be in a strange phase in which I only want to knit tubes of varying dimensions).

To avoid a gazillion ends, I just carried the four colours up the side, weaving them in as I went. Once I had the basic tank, I decided to try some more shaded effects on the ribbed edgings, with four colours of kidsilk haze that were reasonably close to the four artisan thread shades. I knit two strands of the KSH together, which helped to blend and soften the colour transitions:

I don’t much like knitting with KSH, but it is good for this sort of thing.

I find BFL a very curious fibre: it is obviously woolly, but it is so smooth, that when working with it it, one sometimes feels like one is knitting with cotton. The fabric it has produced here is so flat and matt and neat that it almost looks machine knit (in comparison to my usual hand-knitted surfaces, anyway). I love the depth of colour in the muted stripes I ended up with:

Anyway, the end result was a simple, close-fitting tank which shaded the colours quite nicely, and which was softened around the edges with a fuzzy mohair halo. It could be the stripes, the colours, or just the basic nature of the garment, but I think that the tank has a worn, old-Boden feel to it, if you know what I mean.

Perhaps you are wondering why I’ve not mentioned the shaded tank before. The truth is that I conceived a peculiar dislike to it, and it has been buried at the back of my wardrobe for several months. I finished it on January 31st, and on that day, wore it for the first time. The following day, I got up and had a stroke. That event was, of course, nothing to do with this garment, and I’m not even sure myself why it gives me the heebies, (because it was the last thing I knitted or something?) Anyway, I have decided that this is mere foolishness, and that the shaded tank needs to come out into the open. It is perfect for these lovely late summer days, which I am spending outside in our tiny strip of shared garden. Yes, you can see mead mountain from the back of our flat – the sight of it always makes me happy.

I saw The Illusionist yesterday, and thought that Arthur’s Seat, and, indeed, Edinburgh as a whole really looked stunning. Chomet captured the light and distinctive vistas of the city amazingly well, and there was something quite curious about seeing the very cinema I was sitting in appear in animated form in front of me on the screen…The film is terribly sentimental, of course, and though the animation is beautiful and unique and knocks the socks off CGI, I’m not sure how good it is at suggesting the fundamentally physical humour of Tati… but like Chomet’s other work, the best thing about it is how absorbingly his aesthetic is used to create a feeling. The feeling of this film was of something about to end, and it captured that very well indeed.

Oh yes, I mustn’t forget to mention that I called this tank Tey, as when I was knitting it, I was also re-reading a stack of Josephine Tey novels. It is ravelled here.

Also…I returned to the colours of the hedgerow for the tortoise and hare gloves. Swatch success at last! More soon. . .

Blackford Hill

Time for the third of the seven hills. Blackford sits to the South of Edinburgh and though the hill is not at all steep, the terrain is rough in places. On Calton or Castle Hill, one is definitely walking in the city – not so here. I thought I’d try using two walking poles today: this would support me on the descent, and also give my left arm something to do. I’ve noticed that when my legs are having to make more of an effort – such as when walking up a hill – that the left arm tends to forget its duties and droops limply at my side. But with two poles, the arm must be fully involved in the walking at all times! Involve the arm!

I am really not the most co-ordinated of creatures with two poles, but once I’d got going it was fine.

Blackford Hill is most notable for being home to the Royal Observatory, which you would be able to see if it wasn’t having a face-lift . . .

But for me the summit of the hill has another signficance. . .

I could see the top of Blackford Hill from the Astley Ainsley Hospital. Many’s the time during my interment that I’d gaze out and wish to be up there rather than down here. Tom works nearby, and at lunchtimes he would go for a run and phone me at the hospital when he got to the top. If I stood at a particular place by a particular window on the ward, I could see his small figure gaily waving to me from the summit. How I wished that I could join him!

. . . and now I can. It felt damn good to be up here rather than down there.

There are excellent views to the North and East. From this angle, Mead Mountain assumes an interesting aspect, like a beast at rest. Some say that it resembles a sleeping lion.

The poles were very welcome on the descent. I will have to work at building up my strength at going down . . .


. . . my legs had turned to jelly by this point.

After our walk, we popped into Morningside to buy supplies: ingredients for a special fruit cake; tea from Falko (I am addicted); and a muthaload of cheese from Mellis‘s. Tom set to work on the cake when we returned. . .

This is what Pru Leith recommends to prevent uneven cooking. A couple of old issues of Private Eye seem to work just fine.

The tea and cheese and cake are rations for my trip – I am going away for a few days to a nice-looking pad that Mel found for us all to stay in near Stirling. I shall be attending a class on Tuesday, and will probably be knocking around the, um, ‘marketplace’ at the weekend, but mostly I am just going to spend some quality time with my favourite knitting comrades. Stop me and say hello if you see me!

view

A quick post from a flying visit. My sister came to Edinburgh this afternoon, and I took a couple of hours off to walk with her up Arthur’s Seat. Here she is enjoying some hilltop knitting.

hellsknitsb.jpg

…check her out twisting cables in the wind and everything! Go Hells!

Among my sister’s many talents are the softies of all shapes and sizes that she designs and makes for her kids. She brought some of them along for the walk. Here is one enjoying the view:

noodleb.jpg

It seemed a little perturbed by the height of the hill…

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