The problem is that given a moment of idle time I am likely to fill it, which is precisely what I have done. Now I'm taking Irish lessons! It's all Tristan's fault. He has this idea to expand SD to include an Irish language knitting circle...and a tea house. Imagine, hanging out with little old ladies chatting about one's tree of life cable pattern while sipping tea. In my head I'm already there. I haven't learned the words for knit and purl yet. That will come. But I have learned to say hello. (Dia duit! Which sounds like "Gee, a ditch!" I found myself saying that a lot while driving around Donegal but with alarm rather than cheerfulness, and let's face it, "gee" was not always the first word.)
And in other exciting news the giant boxes of woolen goodies have arrived. Now all I need is a sunny day for taking photographs.
Bhuel, a Chassandra, tá fáilte romhat! Cad é mar atá tú inniú. Éist, caithfidh muid put you in contact with someone who knits in Irish (and you KNOW there are plenty out there, it's just a matter of any old knitting ladies having an internet connection... somebody's granny has GOT to be of help here.) Tchifidh mé Dé Máirt thú!
ReplyDeleteAs you may have guessed I have a fascination with fiber generally and more particularly with the disappearing skills that transform it into things. There is something in the kinetic process of working with one's hands that transcends language and time. It's not about making a sweater from two hundred years ago (although that is a worthwhile pursuit) but about keeping the ability to create in the physical memory of each new generation.
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