The last couple of weeks have been a series of little steps followed by more little steps. I have finished of my third shawl for the year but still not blocked any of them. The weather here has been that dank and damp I am sure they would never dry and unfortunately my laundry monsters keep growing so I have no space in my tiny galley kitchen cum laundry to have a couple shawls blocking. Let alone one on blocking pads. I have also had issues which the camera ie a number of individuals have borrowed it an not returned it to the kitchen cupboard. I only got it back today when I threatened to cut off the food supply chain. Remember teenagers like to almost inhale food.
Dishcloth wise I had my arse kicked by a couple of dish cloths but I am restocking our supplies of these and general tea towels. I need to get some more linen so I can make some more tea towels for glasses but that will be for another day. It must be the start of spring cause I have the urge to do some major spring cleaning.
KAL = Knit along. The status update on what is going on this sock project wise. I had gotten a little behind on the A-Z kal but in the last week I have finished off my B pair of socks. The pattern is Blackrose sock by Suzi Anvin. I called my project on ravelry Róisín Dubh. I thought it was appropriate for this project in oh so many ways. For those who can not work out Róisín Dubh = Dark or Black Rose in Gaelic and is a famous political song from about the 16th century. The song in lyrical form talks about the trials and tribulations of the English rule. For the song in English see further below.
|Slightly too big.|
I had a slight gauge issue because I did not do a gauge calculations so the socks are slightly large but leave it to J. He will shrink them for me the first time he accidentally washes them in the laundry as he has not got the whole idea of colour and temperature sorting after over 20 years of doing laundry. I think he just gets frustrated and tries to shove everything into the one load. It is at least one thing a week that he manages to shrink. Son is complaining about a t-shirt that has suddenly gone short on him.
|All those years of ballet are paying off mother|
I can point my toes for photos.
This Schoppel-Wolle Zauberball Stärke 6 that I also did the last shawl in. The wool is one of those long colour repeats and it moves from white to pink to green as you can see on the right foot heel in the picture above. I have also completed sock one of the C socks in the possum wool that Zoec sent me last year and I am even doing it in the pattern she suggested Cachoeiva. Daughter is already eyeing them off to the point she tried it the first sock on before I had even knitted the toes. The second sock has been cast on and I hope to get rid of this sock project this week. For my next sock pattern for the D which was supposed to be started last weekend I have chosen a fairly simple one. I need something which will let me catch up.
Little Rose, be not sad for all that hath behapped thee:
The friars are coming across the sea, they march on the main.
From the Pope shall come thy pardon, and from Rome, from the East
And stint not Spanish wine to my Little Dark Rose.
Long the journey that I made with her from yesterday till today,
Over mountains did I go with her, under the sails upon the sea,
The Erne I passed by leaping, though wide the flood,
And there was string music on each side of me and my Little Dark Rose!
Thou hast slain me, O my bride, and may it serve thee no whit,
For the soul within me loveth thee, not since yesterday nor today,
Thou has left me weak and broken in mien and in shape,
Betray me not who love thee, my Little Dark Rose!
I would walk the dew with thee and the meadowy wastes,
In hope of getting love from thee, or part of my will,
Frangrant branch, thou didst promise me that thou hadst for me love-
And sure the flower of all Munster is Little Dark Rose!
Had I a yoke of horses I would plough against the hills,
In middle-Mass I'd make a gospel of my Little Dark Rose,
I'd give a kiss to the young girl that would give her mouth to me,
And behind the liss would lie embracing my Little Dark Rose!
The Erne shall rise in rude torrents, hills shall be rent,
The sea shall roll in red waves, and blood be poured out,
Every mountain glen in Ireland, and the bogs shall quake
Some day ere shall perish my Little Dark Rose!