As I write, we’re in a week of ice and snow, the coldest week of the winter so far. The Camellia’s bright flowers are frosted every morning like strange winter fruit. The birds are grateful for all the insect blocks and seeds. Going out to feed them, I realised that the pattern the blackbirds were leaving in the snow was like that on my father’s old Aran sweater that I’d pulled on as the cosiest thing to wear. It is over 50 years old and yet, it is still beautiful.
I no longer remember who knit the jumper – probably my granny or one of my aunts since they were both Aran knitters. My granny would knit my sister and I little Aran dresses to wear to primary school that had woven crios from the Aran islands tied around the waists. I’ve no idea where she got these but they were lovely.
In those days, these weren’t the expensive items you pay a fortune for now in Donegal – they were part of women’s thrift – making clothes for themselves and their children instead of buying them in order to save money.
I posted a picture of ‘The Blackbird’s Foot’ stitch in the Aran on Twitter and in a few days nearly 6,000 people had viewed it with close on 300 likes. My father died just as computers were coming in and before social media. So I’ve no idea what he’d have made of the jumper he wore under his tweed jacket to work in the garden being admired by so many people. But I was touched by people’s reactions, as they told me how precious the garment was, how it represented the (often overlooked) work of women, a special heirloom. They also recounted memories of their own Arans that they loved.
Maureen Boyle, Memoirs: "Wearing my father’s old Aran today, which includes this stitch that I love called ‘The Blackbird’s Foot’ which is exactly the impression they leave in snow."
Poet
There is something special in the gift of something made for us by hand. The poet Pablo Neruda wrote of how:
‘Maru Mori brought me
a pair of socks which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
my feet were honoured in this way
by these heavenly socks.’
Even a very ordinary piece of clothing can come to have such precious associations. Mary Chapin Carpenter’s This Shirt tells a whole life story through the shirt that has gone from being the outfit worn to high school dances to serving as a bed for birthing kittens, a cushion for a long train journey.
This shirt is a grand old relic
With a grand old history
I wear it now for Sunday chores
Cleaning house and raking leaves
I wear it beneath my jacket
With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it
But I’m not about to try.
Our associations, of course, are not always positive. I have another jumper I made myself during a long London winter when I knit the loss of a break-up into heavy Donegal yarn that seemed strong enough to take it.
Prompt
For this month’s prompt, I’d like you to think of a piece of clothing that has or had a special meaning for you. Perhaps it has a memory associated with it, perhaps it is about the person who made it for you or who left it to you.
You might explore a single memory or weave a whole series of memories that it evokes.
If you would like to send us your writing, please email us at icl@farmersjournal.ie.
Read more
Get writing: recalling the adults who helped shape our childhoods
Writers' Corner
As I write, we’re in a week of ice and snow, the coldest week of the winter so far. The Camellia’s bright flowers are frosted every morning like strange winter fruit. The birds are grateful for all the insect blocks and seeds. Going out to feed them, I realised that the pattern the blackbirds were leaving in the snow was like that on my father’s old Aran sweater that I’d pulled on as the cosiest thing to wear. It is over 50 years old and yet, it is still beautiful.
I no longer remember who knit the jumper – probably my granny or one of my aunts since they were both Aran knitters. My granny would knit my sister and I little Aran dresses to wear to primary school that had woven crios from the Aran islands tied around the waists. I’ve no idea where she got these but they were lovely.
In those days, these weren’t the expensive items you pay a fortune for now in Donegal – they were part of women’s thrift – making clothes for themselves and their children instead of buying them in order to save money.
I posted a picture of ‘The Blackbird’s Foot’ stitch in the Aran on Twitter and in a few days nearly 6,000 people had viewed it with close on 300 likes. My father died just as computers were coming in and before social media. So I’ve no idea what he’d have made of the jumper he wore under his tweed jacket to work in the garden being admired by so many people. But I was touched by people’s reactions, as they told me how precious the garment was, how it represented the (often overlooked) work of women, a special heirloom. They also recounted memories of their own Arans that they loved.
Maureen Boyle, Memoirs: "Wearing my father’s old Aran today, which includes this stitch that I love called ‘The Blackbird’s Foot’ which is exactly the impression they leave in snow."
Poet
There is something special in the gift of something made for us by hand. The poet Pablo Neruda wrote of how:
‘Maru Mori brought me
a pair of socks which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
my feet were honoured in this way
by these heavenly socks.’
Even a very ordinary piece of clothing can come to have such precious associations. Mary Chapin Carpenter’s This Shirt tells a whole life story through the shirt that has gone from being the outfit worn to high school dances to serving as a bed for birthing kittens, a cushion for a long train journey.
This shirt is a grand old relic
With a grand old history
I wear it now for Sunday chores
Cleaning house and raking leaves
I wear it beneath my jacket
With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it
But I’m not about to try.
Our associations, of course, are not always positive. I have another jumper I made myself during a long London winter when I knit the loss of a break-up into heavy Donegal yarn that seemed strong enough to take it.
Prompt
For this month’s prompt, I’d like you to think of a piece of clothing that has or had a special meaning for you. Perhaps it has a memory associated with it, perhaps it is about the person who made it for you or who left it to you.
You might explore a single memory or weave a whole series of memories that it evokes.
If you would like to send us your writing, please email us at icl@farmersjournal.ie.
Read more
Get writing: recalling the adults who helped shape our childhoods
Writers' Corner
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