On Friday, as I do every year, I was thinking about Patriots’ Day. It’s a holiday in Massachusetts, though it’s now celebrated on the third Monday in April instead of the 19th, to make a three-day weekend. It commemorates the start of the American Revolution in 1775, when the battles of Lexington, Concord, and Menotomy took place. It was immediately preceded by Paul Revere’s (and others) ride.
Blooming Plum
In 1894, the governor of Massachusetts, bowing to lobbying from one group wanting a “Lexington Day” and another desiring a “Concord Day”, proclaimed “Patriots’ Day” to celebrate “the anniversary of the birth of liberty and union”. The ‘union’ refers to the American Civil War. On this same date in 1861 the Baltimore Riots occurred, marking the first bloodshed of that conflict. Another factor in the ‘birth’ of Patriots’ Day could be the popularity Longfellow’s poem “Paul Revere’s Ride”, first published in 1861.
Harbour Seal on the riverbank
What I did not know, however, was that Patriots’ Day replaced the earlier “Fast Day”. Alas, this was not a day to rush around or speed on the motorway. It was “a day of public fasting and prayer,” proclaimed by Colonial governors to fend off natural calamities. A Fast Day could be proclaimed at any time and didn’t always have a set date, but they were always a day off. Often a Fast Day was proclaimed at the start of Spring, for good weather during the growing season. It wasn’t always successful, but the holiday was on the books in Massachusetts until 1894. It hung on in New Hampshire until 1991, when it was replaced by Civil Rights Day.
Nowadays, Patriots’ Day is probably better known as the date of the Boston Marathon, which started in 1897. The first race had a field of 15 and was run between Ashland and Boston. A few years later, the course was lengthened to meet Olympic standards, moving the start out to Hopkinton. This year, as ever, it was run on the same route, but with 29,451 entrants from 129 countries and all 50 US states.
Willow buds
The gansey is quickly approaching the shoulders, and I’m appreciating the pattern more and more. It’s simple to memorise; the only thing that needs attention is the number of rows between cable crosses. It’s flexible as regards sizing too. Although it’s not easy to adjust the size of the diamonds, a stitch or two can be added to either side. The chevrons have no height limitation and can be widened or narrowed as needed. The cables, too, could become 4 stitch cables instead of 6, or replaced with a single cable instead of a pair.
Similar to running a marathon, knitting a gansey is also a long-term commitment. Good progress is being made – in a mile or two the front will be split into two shoulder sections to form the front neck. Then the front and back will be bound off at the shoulders, and I’ll arrive at the Heartbreak Hill of the sleeves.
Why do the sleeves seem such a chore when the body has been such a pleasure?
First, you have to pick up the stitches . . . then, they’re sooo looong!
It’s looking splendid. A nice colour choice, too.
Grew up in NH. I still take note of Fast Day.
Why is the second part of the yoke not a problem, while people have issues with the second sleeve? Is it that the yoke is still not a completed thing, while a sleeve feels like a completion? Does anyone ever knit both sleeves alternately? (I know flat-knitters sometimes work both sleeves at once.)
I would guess one of the reasons is that the yoke is usually patterned, whereas sleeves frequently are not or only have a pattern near the top. The yoke is also short compared to a sleeve, which seems to stretch off into infinity.
I’ve knit two sleeves at once, like knitting two socks at once, but not on a gansey. It’s not convenient with coned yarn, as a separate ball would need to be wound off to knit one of the sleeves.