The snowdrops haven’t grown much over the past weeks, but just seeing them is hopeful. Other plants are budding too – the hydrangea peaking over a neighbour’s wall, the greening iris leaves along the path, the shoots of daffodils, the roses next to the house. The river is still high, but the path is no longer impassably, deeply flooded. In places the path is covered in a wrack of grass stems, trodden down or intertwined with other grasses or wire fences. As a further sign of the change of season, the birds are starting to sing, and the crowns of the black-headed gulls on the river are changing to a dark brown.
Snowdrops peeking
Over the few days following the service, Gordon’s brother and I went on some drives around the county, visiting tourist hotspots and notspots. One stop was at a cold John o’Groats, because you can’t not visit when you’re this far north. It’s a pleasant drive to get there, passing dunes, bays, brochs, and bogs, finally cresting the hill a few miles away to see Orkney spread out before you, but the place itself isn’t that interesting.
Rainbow at Camster
Another stop was Camster Cairns, where the skies were steely dark with approaching rain. With the sun behind us as we faced the cairns, we were welcomed with a full, double rainbow. We didn’t get close to the cairns – the boardwalks were treacherously slippy from overnight frost. Our final stop of the drives was at Sarclet, one of Gordon’s favourite places. Much of the drive that day was through gatherings of fog, disappearing and reappearing on a whim like playful spectres, but at Sarclet it was clear. The sun was near setting, with a beautiful pearlescent light over the cliffs and sea.
Sunset at Sarclet
The list of ‘things to do’ to settle affairs is slowly being ticked off. As in the sense of, ‘I’ve marked these things as completed’, not ‘I’m so ticked off’ or ‘ he has been ticked off for misbehaving’. I’m following the principle of ‘one difficult thing a day’, which can include going to the supermarket, where memories abound. So many things don’t need to be purchased any more . . . but it is getting easier. Difficult things can also include writing Christmas cards, making phone calls, preparing and sending paperwork. It’s a bit whack-a-mole at times, where one task is completed only to have another pop up. But the mountain is being eroded, one grain of sand at a time.
In gansey news, good progress has been made on the sleeve. I’m nearly down to the cuff, where six inches of ribbing await. I’m still trying to figure out Gordon’s notes. It’s an ongoing puzzle, and this week I found I’d misinterpreted them, thinking there were far more decreases. One penny dropped when I realised that a circled number denoted the number of rows, not the number of stitches. Everything will make sense at some point, but at the moment I wish he’d left a key to the symbols!
As a final note, thank you so much for all your lovely, supportive, and heartfelt comments. I can’t possibly answer them all individually, but can only say to all of you how grateful I am for your support and confidence as I continue the blog.
❤️
Thank you for continuing to share your days. It’s lovely to read your descriptions of the shifting of seasons. And how I understand your dilemma of “Now, what did he mean by those notes?” But we continue on and feel the closeness of deciphering as we go.
Thankyou for an interesting blog this week Margaret. Lovely to see the gansey coming on.
There’re no shortcuts as you’re discovering, but all of your ganseyites are here behind you
I was thinking (dangerous pastime). When the time feels right, would you be able to design a “Gordon Reid” gansey pattern as a memory to Gordon? I’m sure we’d all love to knit it.
Take care, and one day at a time
You know, I’d never thought of that! I’ll put my thinking cap on, and then try to remember why I’m wearing it . . .
I can see why you and Gordon were mates. Your writing dovetails nicely with his.
Thank you for continuing to share glimpses of your part of the world and the knitting.
One thing a day sounds like a good plan.
Good morning Margaret, thank you from a wintry north west England for your latest update. Thank you for the beautiful photos – I can’t see them on this phone but I know they are beautiful from your very descriptive words! You are an inspiration. I am tempted to pick up my needles and get back to an Aran tank top I have laid on one side for far too long. Please keep safe and take care. X
Thank you!
Many thanks Margaret for continuing the blog. Somebody will be happy again with the new gansey. Fondly from Finland.
It’s so nice to look forward to the blog each week. Thank you for keeping it on!
I can understand the problem of deciphering the pattern notes, since I can’t understand my own half the time!
Thinking of you in New Brunswick
Lois
Hi Margaret, Thank you for continuing this blog so beautifully – your own poetic way with words is a joy to read, along with the gorgeous photos. And it’s a great tribute to the original author of this blog.
The sweater’s looking great now – and growing apace! I meant to look a day or two ago, but we were frantically practising some new arrangements for a gig last night, and got distracted – it was worth the wait.
Very best wishes from the Deepest Middle South here in Northampton, where it feels chilly but is probably tropical compared with there.
Thanks, Richard! It’s definitely warmed up now – nearly all the snow is gone, and it’s raining.
I think a “Gordon Reid ” gansey is a really good idea
I’m really happy that you are managing to continue this blog. I have enjoyed over the last few years, as well as the knitting (which I’m not great at) I really appreciate the beautiful photographs and the descriptions of the changing of the seasons. Thank you for continuing writing such a wonderful blog! x
Thank you for the blog. You write so beautifully and movingly and your photographs are wonderful.
I found the blog quite a while ago when I began to knit a gansey and was looking for inspiration and support. I have been a bystander, not contributing, but gaining a lot from my reading. My thanks to your late husband.
I was so sad to hear of his death. Your words have moved me to send my own condolences. There will likely be many other unidentified people as I have been. It is so wonderful to experience the warmth of the community which is created across many boundaries by a shared love of the knitting and of the history. Seeing the group all wearing their ganseys is a marvelous tribute to his skill. He has created a lasting legacy. I am so glad that you are continuing with his work. I send my best wishes.
Hi Janet
Yes it is wonderful to experience the warmth of the community. It has been unanticipated, and thus even more wonderful.