Was There Ever Such A Secret Stash Shed?

I know you've all been waiting, checking, fuming, but I got here as quickly as I could. Poor DH had to go out in the pouring rain and howling wind to take pictures at a football match. I did offer to go with him, for moral support, but he kindly declined. So the curtains are drawn against the night, the lamps lit, and I'm tucked up here at the computer to tell you about a morning of dreams come true...

Actually it was very cold and bright this morning, and the road looked stunning as we drove down to Killarney, but I couldn't relax. I was chewing my fist all the way for fear that John Cahill might have had to rush off somewhere else and I wouldn't get to THAT SHED. When we took a wrong turn I nearly shrieked. But at last we arrived, and he was there, and immediately led the way to the most unprepossessing container-shed you ever saw in your life, marooned there amid the long wet grass and tangling brambles.



Inside it didn't look much more promising - just a sea of cartons and the sound of rain dripping on the roof. But I got busy, clambering around and peering into boxes.




Soon treasures began to emerge. John, the sainted man, hauled out a huge empty cardboard box and put it on the floor for me. Then he whispered those seven little words that mean so much to any girl in my position:

'I'll leave you to it, shall I?'

Can you imagine a happier situation? Me, a shed full of unknown yarn yummies, and time to myself? No shopkeepers, no observers, no security guys, no nothing, just the sound of the falling rain and lots and lots of boxes to explore. (DH popped in and out to record the happy occasion for posterity, but largely I was alone. And loving it.)



I explored some more.

Soon the treasures began emerging. I felt like Carter excavating the tomb of Tutankhamen (only without the curse, of course).



I tell you I went mad in that shed this morning. I couldn't believe I was having so much fun! I just wished with all my heart that all of you could have been there as well. Just imagine the hysteria, the shrieks, the laughter! It would have been the best girls' outing ever, wouldn't it?

After about half an hour John reappeared with a large roll of sticky tape which he used to fasten up the carton (now extremely full) securely. Even then I saw another cone here, a hidden one there, a poor lonely one with a few dust smudges on it, lost over in that corner. I carried those under my arm while John toted the rather heavy box back to the weighing scales in the weaving house.



I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it weighed over 20 kilos! (That's not counting the extra cones I was hugging to my chest which he adorably threw in for nothing. Can one love a virtual stranger? If he has access to that much yarn, very probably.)

Then I suddenly remembered the bright red variegated viscose yarn with which several of you had fallen in love. Now this special order yarn is never likely to get relegated to the stash shed. It is leading a popular and successful life on the looms and thereafter in the shop at Muckross House. But I asked, very sweetly and humbly, if I could possibly buy another cone, at whatever full market price he cared to put on it. John was a tad reluctant to part with even a smidgen of his treasure, but I was as persuasive as I knew how.



'You cannot be serious! '

But I got it, dear reader, I got it.

I have to admit though that I didn't get any alpaca this time (sorry, Dez darling, I did try, honest). He's short enough of the precious stuff, apparently, but is expecting a shipment in from darkest Peru any week now. It will cost me if I do get any more, but hell, even at the price he charges, it's still about half what I'd pay anywhere else.

We were so exhausted (me from the trauma of being next to, in with, so much hitherto unknown yarn, and DH from capturing every stage of the expedition) that we had to go for coffee in the dear little thatched tea house not far away.



The tea room closes at the end of October for the winter and doesn't re-open until Easter, so if you want some rhubarb crumble, you'd better get on to the travel agent right now. It was fine enough to sit outside and the sun had warmed the chill air somewhat. After the coffee we wandered for a bit and found some lovely fly agaric toadstools just waiting for the leprechauns to come back from their own tea break.



You can just see them in the foreground here, with the jaunting car trotting past in the background.

And then it really was time to go (me with a last longing look back at that magical magical shed).

Oh what a triumph arriving home with the loot! First there was a huge box to lug out of the car...



and then it all had to be stacked neatly in the sitting room.



Les Girls really got involved in the excitement, especially Muffy who is, as you know, a bit of a yarn fiend in her own right. She became so worked up that I had to give her a discarded swatch (you know the kind that obstinately refuses either to behave or to rip back so you hurl it away in disgust).



That kept her happy for quite a while, by which time I'd got all the yarn stacked and organised.

Now I know you want to see the whole lot in close up, but I think I'm pushing Blogger by this stage. I'll try a couple more (don't blame me if the whole thing blows up).



Here are some of the reds. Top left and right are two variegate boucles, roughly chunky weight. Below left is an orange-red 'mousse' - that's a gorgeous yarn roughly about sock weight or maybe even worsted, a very very soft wool, probably merino, moussed round a nylon binder. Pride of place in the centre goes to the variegated viscose wrested with such effort from John, and on the right is a pink mousse.

OK, so far so good. I'll try to put in the blues next.



This one's a bit dark, I'm afraid, but I didn't want to drag DH out yet again, after the sterling work he'd put in this morning. Top left is a pale lavender, very fine, kid mohair, and underneath it is a lambswool in a darker lavender, also very fine (you'd need to double it for hand knitting). Centre top, a variegated boucle, under that a quite thick (chunky I'd say) mohair in greeny-blue. On the right top, a dark blue mousse, and under it (the colour doesn't show up well in this picture) a lovely grape wool, very fine.

Now there were some real prizes in this hunting expedition - among them a huge cone of dark charcoal lambswool which, doubled, just makes the gauge for that Norah Gaughan asymmetical jacket in Vogue of which we spoke recently, and a slightly lighter charcoal in the mousse yarn. There was a very fine kid mohair boucle in natural (yes, a big cone) and a very fine kid mohair plain, also in natural. Pride of place though had to go to an absolutely stunning find. Get ready to bow your heads in reverence. About worsted weight, maybe a little less (I can never remember what worsted weight is) oatmeal or ecru, looked like thick string from a distance but up close, oh my Gawd! Silk and cashmere. Yes, you heard me. Silk and cashmere. Wow, wow, and triple whammy wow! I couldn't breathe properly after handling that. But believe me I handled it into the carton pretty darn quick.

I did take a picture of it tonight but I don't think I did it justice. Oh look, I'll put it on anyway and then get Richard to do a better job tomorrow. Just imagine something more beautiful than you've ever imagined or touched and you might be getting halfway there.

You can't see the subtle shine, can't feel the unbelievable softness, but take my word for it, this makes life worth living. What a world that hath such yarns in't! I feel a better person for knowing it.

Look, stop snarling for a minute, will you? I just want to say, yet again, that if it hadn't been for all of you, I'd never have discovered this. I was so embarrassed and so exasperated at having to admit to the lack of yarn here in Ireland that I went hunting and searching and poking until I found at least some places where the stuff could be tracked down, even if those places were absolutely not and never would be public yarn stores. It isn't something everyone could do, and I admit freely that I used the journalistic ploy more than once to gain entrance. But having done it, I'm so thrilled that I seriously owe you my sincere gratitude. OK, OK, gratitude AND a stray skein of any of my finds that take your fancy. All I ask in return is a little something from your corner of the world (even bamboo needles would do...)

STOP PRESS: SECRET STASH SHED IN MY SIGHTS!

Hardly time to write - been out on jobs all day and only just got in at 11 pm - but wanted to alert you to the fact that I've run the elusive John Cahill of Muckross to earth - well to mobile phone actually - and he's taking me to that secret location tomorrow, where all the discarded and remaindered yarns, the cones of which not enough remain to make a new weaving run worth it, the new ideas which didn't work in the commercial market, the dye experiments...

'Oh, um, I'm in Waterford at the moment,' he said vaguely, 'trying to source a good linen for a new line we're trying. I'm away Wednesday - but I could meet you around 10 tomorrow if you liked...' He's lucky he was at the end of a mobile and not right there next to me or I'd have jumped him.

10 am I have to be in Killarney, to meet him. Yes, I'm emptying out the car, dropping the seats, even getting rid of the usual paraphernalia that travels everywhere. Now this just might turn out to be a bit of a disappointment but somehow I don't think so.

I promise, I will think of you all. I will try to imagine what each and every one of you would grab the second you saw it. Bright variegated dyes, buttery soft alpacas, gossamer fine mohairs - I don't know what's there but boy will I make good use of the hour or so I get! DH is heroically coming along to keep John busy and happy with chat about this and that so I can get as much time as possible.

Will post tomorrow evening with pictures, promise, and if I get anything for which you yearn, just let me know and we can work out a lucky bag exchange.

(Gosh, this is setting myself up for an even worse disappointment than Bantry Show, isn't it? I might well be reporting in tomorrow evening with a gloomy expression and a shortage of cheerful sentences. But heck, a whole shed, packed with yarn going for a song - yarn that nobody else knows about? It has to be special!)

POSTSCRIPT!

OK, OK, OK Laurie M and everybody else who complained, I've now hauled the expert out and got him to photograph the BC stash properly. Plus some of the books I got.

That better? (gosh, Blogger is panting for breath - I made the image larger). You might notice that the Handmaiden Silk (front right of the dpns) is already balled up and ready to go on the Swallowtail shawl. I'll model the plaid skirt when I've made it (don't you find that the cutting out is the best - rather like the thinking about it, getting the yarn, and even casting on with a knit project?)

Hot Chocolate Hath Charms To Soothe The Tired Knitter

Morning everyone, we're feeling quite a bit brighter today, thanks in great part to a good night's sleep. That in turn was assisted by a mug of hot chocolate before retiring. And we're not talking low-fat, cholesterol-free, sugarless, additive-less, hot chocolate here but the real McCoy, made by melting a great deal (a great deal) of rich dark chocolate in a mug with some milk, whipping it up with a whisk, adding more milk, and bringing to just the right degree of heat for wrapping the hands around. Went down very well, tucked up in bed, with Vogue Knitting for company. (Yes, I made one for DH too, he's suffering as well, though he opted out on the knitting mag). Well, we can start detoxing tomorrow... or next week...

One of the most annoying hassles on the return trip was at Vancouver Airport where we asked at check in about cosmetics and particularly lip gels (I hate doing without some form of softener on a long trip). 'No problem' said the girl brightly. 'You can take it all on board now as long as you show it at security.' Great. Got the bags labelled, were just about to wave them off on their way, when the girl said (still brightly) 'Of course you must have a clear, approved, zip lock bag for the cosmetics, otherwise they'll be confiscated.' Did she have one of these bags for us, then? 'No, we do not have these for you, you must bring them with you.' Could she then perhaps tell us where within the airport we could purchase one of the strictly approved bags? 'No, we do not have them here, but you must bring exactly the right one with you.' Looks as though even if we had brought some kind of clear bag with us, it wouldn't have been the correct one anyway. So the lipgloss went into the (almost disappeared) luggage after all, me swearing quite considerably at the waste of time. Then, when we got to security for international departures, we saw (1) the first ever notice telling us all cosmetics had to be in the aforesaid approved bags - no such notices at the airport entrance or anywhere else useful, and (b) girls happily sailing through security with their lipsticks, moisturisers, lipglosses, etc., all strewn out in the open on the moving strip. Was I a muggins for taking any notice of the rules or what? (Fortunately DH had more sense and had tucked one of my lip balms into his pocket where it passed unnoticed, so I survived the trip.) Reminds me in a very very small way of the insanity Ms Knitingale has been enduring with the authorities in her praiseworthy quest for official qualification in what she's been doing perfectly for years - check her post out if you want an insight into just how maddening bureaucracy can be.

Anyway, to happier matters. Last night, although it isn't at all cold here yet, it is is rather dark and windy, so I lit the stove and decided to photograph my stash in full for your enjoyment on the hearthrug. The dogs, of course, had other ideas, and moved in as soon as I started gathering kindling and paper, taking up the best positions they could jostle from each other. Gave up on the hearthrug and dragged over a table and a stool on which to load the yarn. Muffy and Sophie grumbled off to their beds, muttering about house moving and it was a fine thing when a dog had been abandoned cruelly at boot camp for so long, etc. etc., but Tasha, a grande dame if ever there was one, had no intention of quitting her comfort spot.




'Ready for my close up now,' she said calmly, as I piled on the stash. (Sorry all these images are rather dark - it was dark by the fire, but the software for rectifying that is acting up as well and DH is out working hard at the press photography thing, recouping some of the costs of our trip so he can't help. Shout if you need more detail on any one of them. And try to think of it as the atmospheric chiaroscuro on an Old Master, ok?)



Here's a close up of the loot on the table. At the back, two wheels of soft roving, one from Briggs & Little, the other from White Buffalo, both bargains. No idea what I'll make from them, but an excursion into the new world of felting is clearly indicated. Next to them, a big skein of Fiddlesticks silk and wool. You're right, whoever observed that this would more than needed for the Swallowtail shawl - I now have other cherished plans for it. In the middle, a huge ball of variegated cotton in turquoises from Bernat, the better to make little petal bibs for several expected babies, with Peg's lovely felted bag centre stage. In front, on the left, what remains of the Coventry yarn with which I made the Campbell River vest, a skein of Handmaiden silk in variegated blues, and one ball of Online wool/cotton to test swatch for Aran patterns. In front is Peg's beautiful lace shawl which I treasure.



Socks reign on the stool: on the left is a lively skein of Fleece Artist merino, flanked by the emerald Cherry Tree Hill and two balls of Opal on the right. Then there are two sets of dpns, the gorgeous Lantern Moon behind, and Brittany Birch in front, in the same gauge (4mm) so I can make two sets of socks at the same time. (There was only one set of Lantern Moon available at Uptown Yarns in Courtenay - you never see a lot of Lantern Moon, but that's understandable since they're in such demand and made by hand in Vietnam after all and just as well too since they aren't exactly inexpensive.) You probably can't see it, but they're all lying on two metres of pure wool plaid which will make the most marvellous full length winter skirt to keep me warm while sitting by the fire. I'll make it on the bias with as much flaring out as the fabric will allow and might even tuck a silk petticoat underneath in really cold weather. Isn't it nice to dress up in older style in the darker months? Some of the nicest times I've had have been sitting in the firelight wearing a long skirt (sometimes I even don the pearls too), with classical music on the player to accompany my knitting and the dogs clustered contentedly at my feet (only occasionally growling for pole position or making a snatch at a straying ball of wool).

And of course there were books, magazines, patterns too - so many indeed that I had to smuggle most of the weight in my trusty little rucksack and try not to look as though it was heavy at the check-in. Elsebeth Lavold's Viking Knitting, the One Skein book, Vogue, several Interweaves, those felted clogs, that one on stoles and scarves - material enough for months of pleasant browsing. And you're perfectly right, of course, I should - and I will - subscribe to Interweave and probably Vogue Knitting International too. Makes far more sense than gnashing my teeth and depending on trips abroad to pick them up. Will get on to it right now.

[By the way, you don't realise this, because you're reading the final version, but it's taken me an hour to get this far. Every time I uploaded an image, it remained a tiny X mark on the page and obstinately refused to open. In the end, I went to the very last image I intended to use (don't ask me why) and tried that. Bingo, it worked! And so did all the recalcitrant ones after that. If you have exhausted all the possibilities, what remains must be the answer, to paraphrase Sherlock Holmes...]

Now, fingers crossed, I think my knitting mojo has come home again, thank heaven, because I'm getting interested in several more projects which I want to start right away, not tomorrow, not next week, but now. That has to be a good sign, right? The Swallowtail shawl from the autumn issue of Interweave has to be one of the first (you all know the pattern by now so I won't post a picture) and I'm going to knit it with Handmaiden Silk . I really thought I wanted to make Icarus but when I saw Swallowtail I was totally lost. Those points are irresistible. There are about 600 yds of the silk so it should be enough. And the wool/silk Fiddlesticks is what I have been searching for this eternity to make the Refined Aran from Best of Knitter's Celtics and Arans.



This is a beautiful pattern in quite a fine yarn with a lot of detail. You mightn't be able to see it, but several of the twists actually start down in the rib, which gives it much more interest. It should look stunning in the variegated Fiddlesticks (no, I don't want to think about how long it's going to take).

The emerald CTH yarn is intended for a pair of socks with mysterious Celtic twinings down the cuff. Haven't worked the pattern out yet, but so confident am I after two pairs of completed socks (well, almost completed, I'm past the heel and galloping down the foot on the Glitz so you could say I'm totally and thoroughly experienced in all aspects of the medium by now, couldn't you? COULDN'T YOU?) And I have fallen completely in love with that wonderful Norah Gaughan asymmetrical jacket in charcoal alpaca in the latest Vogue Knitting.



I must make this - it's ideal for both trousers and skirts and would go anywhere, from docklands to debutantes, fashion show to fishing fleet. Of course I don't have the right yarn in stash - do we ever? - and I feel it deserves something very very beautiful, so it will have to wait a little while, though I don't want to accept that. I want to get going on it this minute. Any suggestions for a really deep charcoal yarn in a soft luxurious fibre? I think it needs to be worsted thickness, no thicker - about 5 sts to the inch?

I am also smitten with Viking patterns and was delighted with the Elsebeth Lavold book I secured at Fun Knits on Quadra Island, although I am advised that there is a better one. Oh well, just have to get that as well... Ms Knitingale posted a picture of the superb Samus sweater she is making and I fell in love with the intricate cabled pattern that goes round the hem and sleeves.

I've been intrigued by all this playing round with Koolaid which I hear about on your postings - Wanda was using it last week to amuse some youngsters she was minding, and I got annoyed at the idea that even they could play this nice game and I couldn't. I looked for it in BC, but had no luck. But would you believe it, Wanda has actually posted some to me so I can try it too? Bless you, Wanda, you're the best.

And so Lene has been posting for a year! Doesn't she have the loveliest images for all of us to share? I feel so incompetent and frustrated that I can't share thoughts and ideas with all the non-English-speaking knitters of the world, and am so totally grateful to Lene for opening at least one doorway for us. Please please keep it up Lene, and I promise I'll try to learn another language a bit better than asking for coffee or the way to the railway station. Perhaps not Finnish, though - I may not know much about it, but I do know that it is one of the three most difficult languages in the world - the Finno-Ugrians (yours, Hungarian and Estonian, right?) But keep up the occasional language hints to us, and we'll do our best. Promise!

One of the nicest things about picking up our mail on return was finding a lovely surprise package from Marianne with handwarmers she'd knitted especially for me, plus stitch markers she'd made herself, a big ball of Koolaid-dyed yarn, and even a little scent sachet, since she thought the Koolaid had left its own scent (it hadn't, Marianne, it hadn't!) And she sent me several sock patterns including the one I really really wanted, Cascading Leaves.



I was lost for words at such thoughtfulness. Isn't it lovely, this exchanging of little gifts back and forth? I'm totally hooked. Not sure about organised official exchanges, but between friends who know something of each other's tastes, how good is that? I wonder how many tiny Midwinter stockings I could make with a leaf or acorn or moss tucked inside, before December...?

I had intended to illustrate (for my own benefit as well as yours) the projects currently in progress, since I have been so casual with the list of new ones intended, but I will seize gratefully on today's problems with Blogger images as an excuse and leave them for another posting. I suspect I would become somewhat discouraged if I were to haul out even a third of them (and your laughter wouldn't help either). But I do have one right here by my desk (the multicoloured mohair boucle tabard) ready to work on if uploading is slow on something. Oh no, now that I look the Irish crochet lace is underneath that, so make it two by the desk. In the sitting room are the shepherd vest and the Glitz socks, plus, I think, the Shetland shawl started with such enthusiasm... NO, that's ENOUGH. I'm not going delving into cupboards. I'm going to take Sophie for a good healthy walk down in the Killarney woods to get rid of the last cobwebs of jetlag. Oh, and next week I must see about contacting the lovely John Cahill at Muckross Weaving about that shed he spoke of. You remember, the shed deep in the woods, packed with all the ends and leftovers and unwanted cones of yarn...?)

Back In The Old Homestead Again

We're safely back from our trip and getting sorted. This jetlag business is a bit of a nuisance - you can't sleep at night and then in the morning, when everything else is bright and cheery, you want to sink back into slumber. It doesn't help either that October has exploded here into heavy rain and high winds - nothing like the clear bright light of British Columbia. Worst of all, my knitting mojo seems to have gone walkabout. Lene, I know now just what you were talking about the other day, only in my case it's not only a strange lack of interest, it's a lack of ability. I've lost the knack! Even the Glitz socks, faithful companions throughout our trip, just wouldn't work for me. Trying to relax before bed last night by doing a few rows was a disaster. Missed stitches, incorrect pattern repeats, reversing instead of going forward, you name it, I did it. I mean it isn't as if I don't know those socks intimately by this time! At one point, reaching for the spare needle, I instead pulled out one entire needleful of stitches - all in the darkest possible colour of course - then had to rush upstairs to the one lamp with the natural daylight bulb (no you can't source Ott-Lites here, dream on) to pick the little beasties up.

Put the socks aside until such time as I should have recovered my knitting senses and tried to start on a little neck scarf like that shown by Peg in her recent posting (see how confused my jetlagged mind is, I can't even find the energy to look for the proper Html coding to put proper links - sorry Peg and Lene.) But that slipped off the needles, got tangled, wouldn't cooperate - and then I found I'd dropped three separate stitches into the bargain, so that went into the Waiting For Clarity basket too. Heck, I hope my mojo comes bouncing back soon. Do you think I might have to take up making little churches in matchsticks instead?

On our way back from town this evening I found a large red balloon bouncing in the gutter and grasped it to take home for Muffy. Muffy loves a balloon above all else. Sophie (who has been showing gloomy detachment since our return) is scared of such evil inventions, Tasha regards them with superior amusement, but Muffy - ah she goes into paroxysms of excitement.



She bounced around the room, heading it like a professional, until I couldn't stand the tension of waiting for the inevitable explosion any longer and put it away for another day.

You can just see my trip stash or some of it, piled on the table next to the balloon. Happily the large floating red object occupied my little canine yarn fiend's mind more than the Fiddlesticks, the Handmaiden or even the niddy noddy. I really must remember to move that yarn tomorrow... if I wake up before Muffy does.

A full posting tomorrow evening, I promise. Most of the work will be out of the way by then, for the moment at least. And I want to tell you about the lovely surprise package from Marianne which was waiting for me on my return. Such treasures!

Time To Go Home...

Last day of the trip! Up to last night I was hating the idea of leaving this beautiful part of the world but now the green fields of West Cork are calling me home. I'm beginning to think of the autumn leaves lying thick on the grass, waiting to be raked up when I take the dogs out in the morning; and roses to be pruned, and the long twining strands of the hop carefully cut and kept for winter decoration. And, yes, I too am thinking about midwinter (or Christmas if you prefer) and the things I'm going to make for friends. Little red or green stockings with small memories of where I live tucked inside - scented leaves, an acorn, things like that which won't annoy the postal system too much. That way we can exchange echoes of our own lives across oceans and continents.

It's been a lovely journey and we have met so many lovely people. Seeing Peg face to face was something I'll never forget and it's made me eager to do more weblog connections as I'm sure it has made Peg too. And the breathtaking scenery and wildlife along the way in this vast beautiful country - I'm very much aware that we only touched on the tiniest spot in just one province of Canada. Did I ever post that picture of Pyramid Lake at dawn? No time to check just now, so I'll put it on, in case.



To be out there in the cold dawn with just the cries of birds for company was a wonderful experience. It makes me more determined to use those early and late times of the day more instead of huddling by the fire with my knitting. If Lene can do it, so can I!

(And by the way, if you've been noticing that I haven't been putting the proper links to my favourite people and weblogs, it's because I'm not on my own machine and thus don't have access to my quick checklist. How do you do it? There may well be a short quick way to put on the code for links but what I do is keep a document open on my screen with all the correct coding for each, and then just cut and paste each time I want to mention one of you. Do tell if there is a much quicker way!)

But the stash, you cry, how has the trip stash progressed? Well, yesterday I finally got to Beehive Wools in Victoria and it was well worth the waiting.



DH went off to see what he could find around the Inner Harbour so I had lots of time to myself.



Inside it was such an Aladdin's cave that I didn't know where to turn first. Alleys, corridors, separate rooms, all with their own dizzying displays of yarns, loosely themed by fibre content. Of course I headed first for Fleece Artist, which had a section all to itself. Heavens, I didn't know she'd expanded into so many different fibres, from silk to merino, homespun to blends. And all in those glorious inspired colourways.



In fact the elusive Seasilk was here, but only in a few colours and not the one I particularly hoped to see face to face as it were - a very pale, almost white or cream with just a few smudges of colour on it, like the hint of lipstick on a well behaved young gel's face. None of the others inspired me to immediate heartstopping passion, which is what I have forced myself to use as a guide at this stage. But the pure silk - oh heavens, that was a different matter. There was a skein of blues and lavenders which reached out with its tiny hands to me and let me lift it into my basket (oh yes, I had a basket by this time). And her merino sock yarns! Did you ever see such fun? In the end I chose one which had so many daft colours that the socks will stop traffic at a hundred yards when they're done. Plus some Brittany birch dpns to match (in gauge at least) the Lantern Moons I got earlier, so that I can continue Grouchywif's excellent practice of making both socks at the same time. Oh and a whole wheel of White Buffalo soft roving which they were selling off for $1.95 because it was one of the last. How could I not at that price? It will felt beautifully and it's a very pale green which will overdye just fine to darker, I think (if I can get those dyes this afternoon in Surrey).

I know you'd like to see pictures of the loot, since that's part of the fun for all of us reading each other's weblogs, but there simply isn't time what with the frantic packing and keeping an eye on the ferry timetable. I promise I'll post as soon as I'm home. In compensation, here's one of a charming building on Government Street. Can you see the 'Irish Times' sign on the left? Clearly put there especially for me - how thoughtful of Victoria.



And here's one of the cutest little houseboat I ever did see, down on Fisherman's Wharf...



R has just cleverly taken a picture of the Glitz sock to remind me that it's time to go. I'll sign off with that (should get the socks almost finished on the flight, with luck). Next time I post, it should be from my own study, overlooking the trees and hills of West Cork. Today we cross to the mainland at 11, and then dash to Surrey to find this shop which sells a good range of fibre dyes (plus Best Buy for DH to stock up on computer bitsies) and then hastily repack the cases to ensure nothing sharp, toxic, cosmetic or otherwise threatening to life and limb is left in the hand baggage. We fly out at 7 tonight, so spare a thought for us crossing the Atlantic as you slumber! Then Amsterdam for most of the day (hey, where are the good yarn shops in Amsterdam, I wonder?) and finally into Cork at about 9 pm tomorrow.

It's been lovely having you along on the trip. Like a huge friendly gang outing. Can I come on one of yours too?

Love

Jo

Island-Hopping Is Just GREAT For Yarn-Hunting!

Oh that was such a great trip over to Quadra and Cortes Islands, off Campbell River. If I have to spend the next year in dire gloomy straits, meditating over a bowl of thin gruel (what is gruel anyway, I always wondered when I read A Christmas Carol - and that reminds me - but no, leave it till later in the year), it will have been worth it. We were rather relaxed about setting off as Fun Knits didn't open until midday, and barely made the 11.30 ferry for the ten-minute ride to Quadra.

Isn't it great arriving at new islands? The little wooden houses peering out of the trees, the tiny tidal beaches, the sense of another, more secluded world?



It actually took a whole lot of time to find Fun Knits, which was tucked away on a side road (they're going to move into the mainstream shopping area though soon), and then I discovered that they'd actually been open since 10 that morning! Two hours of yarn hunting wasted!



It's the most divine little shop, packed full of yarn and, on this particular Saturday morning, people.



As I rushed in, anxious to make up for lost time, I was greeted by a chorus of 'Are you Irish?' This took me aback for a moment until Donna (mother of Shelley who was over on Cortes Island for the day at a knit-in) explained that her daughter had left notes about my impending arrival and instructions that I was to be treated well. Wasn't that nice? Here's Donna herself, coping with a shopful of madwomen very calmly and good - humouredly.



The crowd of ladies in there were from Qualicum, further down the island, reconnoitring for a spinning and weaving retreat they're planning to hold there in the spring. They were lovely friendly folk, and one, who I think probably had more than a trace of Irish blood, insisted on dancing a jig with me to celebrate the occasion.



We tore ourselves away (Richard was having great fun capturing all these images) to catch the Cortes ferry. Oh of course I didn't leave empty-handed! This place has Cherry Tree Hill and Sweater Lady and Fiddlesticks and the most gorgeous sock yarns... Tell you further down.

Cortes has very few roads and was rather quiet as we drove around, with hardly anyone or anything to be seen. Since petrol (gas) was getting low we decided to head back for the ferry - but then spotted this poster on the island noticeboard.



Now could you resist that, whatever the ferry timetable? Nope, neither could I, so off we went on another treasure hunt. Finally we ran Marnie's Books And Homespun to earth.




It's the quietest most charming little place with books and woolly things jostling for space. And there, hanging proudly on their own rack, were the socks!



Did someone really knit that argyle pattern on the left. Hats off to whoever did. I think it was Marnie, who however wasn't there that day (probably at the same knit-in as Shelley). There were wonderful bags of alpaca for spinning, cones and skeins of homespun - and this...



The most beautiful handmade niddy noddy in a dark polished wood with a little peg to keep one arm in the place you wanted. How could I resist that? DH, the adorable, bought it for me on the spot. No, of course I don't deserve such good treatment but I wasn't going to refuse such a gift.

Then it really was time to rush for the ferry back to Quadra, drive across that island and catch the boat back to Campbell River. While waiting to board, Richard found a belted kingfisher perched casually right next to the boat, almost as if it knew he had to leave and couldn't get out tripod and long lens. He didn't do too badly though.



He swears that the kingfisher winked sardonically as the ferry slid inevitably away from his perch. The one that (almost) got away!

So here's the haul from Quadra and Cortes.



Not much, you say? In yarn size, maybe, but in credit card punishment, quite enough for one day! At the back, on the niddy noddy, is a huge skein of hand-dyed silk/wool from Fiddlesticks which will be wonderful for trying out that Swallowtail shawl in Interweave. On it are lying two balls of Opal variegated sock yarn with a hint of glitter, and one of Cherry Tree Hill in emerald greens. OK, so Cherry Tree Hill are disgracefully expensive and I should resist them, but I can't. In front is a ball of Online wool/cotton which I am going to use for Aran swatch experimentation since it looks as though it would give just the right sharp stitch definition. And there with this bundle is Elsebeth Lavold's Viking Knitting. ONE of you - you know who you are, although I can't check right now with my time on this laptop limited - threw down the gauntlet on this one and I couldn't believe I'd found it right there in Fun Knits.

Now when R had done that picture he said, 'You can't just leave the niddy noddy like that, they'll want to see it in more detail.' See? He's getting involved! So he took another one of me holding the beauty.



There is a very ergonomic handle at one end, and a dear little peg on the arm at the other so you can size to suit different skeins. And yes, I'm wearing the Campbell River vest, finished on the ferry crossings. About time you saw something I'd finished, yes? Really really simple, since the yarn is telling the story here. Oh the niddy noddy - it's labelled Cortes Island Homespun - Wonderfully Woolly Things and the price was really incredibly reasonable. What a day of discovery! No, really really I will endure a long damp dark winter with gratitude and contentment, I promise, I promise. (Still two days to go, though...)

So Little Time, So Much Stash To Secure...

Right, the tension is starting to creep up again now that there are only three and a half yarn hunting days to go before we leave BC. This tension thing is a nuisance; before you go on a trip you're so wound up with worrying about whether the dogs will be OK in summer camp and the house will be all right and whether you'll clear the backlog of work and whether this is a good idea in the first place, that you can't sleep. Don't know about you, but the night before a trip has to be the worst one in the world. You lie awake, fully aware of the fact that you have to get up at 4 anyway, and that you should really be sunk in delicious slumber, with all the thoughts whirling round in your head and resolving themselves into just one, 'Why am I doing this?'

Then you're off and it's exciting and wonderful and you meet new friends and find glorious yarn shops and all the magazines and books you'd been yearning to get hold of to read over and over again on dark winter evenings, and slowly, very slowly, you start to relax. At this stage of the trip we're both actually sleeping through the night, having finally sorted the 9 hour time difference. We're at the most beautiful spot on the Vancouver Island coast, where Discovery Passage is so narrow that we have a procession of barges, boats, cruise liners passing right outside our window. About ten minutes after each one goes dignifiedly by, there is a whooshing sound on the beach below our room as the wash rolls the pebbles round.

But it's Saturday morning and on Tuesday evening we fly out from Vancouver. There are more yarn shops to see, more stash to be tucked away in the suitcases (yep, I made sure we both had the kind with expanding zips to make them twice the width - new luggage regulations frown on more than one bag each so they had better be big. Luckily yarn is light...)

I panic because I know that over the next few days as over the last, I will see yarns and textures and colours and patterns that I might never see again. Yes, I know there's the Internet, but nothing, as Peg agreed when we met in Courtenay, beats actually seeing the ball or the skein with your own eyes and handling it. How often have you ordered something that looks perfect only to be disappointed when it arrives? So if I fall in love on the spot (which has happened rather frequently this trip) should I buy now, hope it's in the last yarn shop I visit before leaving, take a note of name and maker, or what?

And then there are needles - like the divine Lantern Moon dpns which are so beautiful I'm going to make a frame to display them when not in use, and bamboo circulars in every gauge - and all the little fudgies which you just can't get in Ireland but which you spoiled pack can just wander out and pick up any time you feel like it. Stitch markers, especially those ones like tiny plastic padlocks which can be inserted or taken out at any time instead of being accessible only when you actually get to them on the row. Big-eyed needles for sewing up, for heaven's sake. You just try finding those in West Cork!

Most of all, warm welcoming yarn stores with friendly people who all think the same way as I do and are all as excited as me about new projects, new fibres, new ideas. Shelves of books and magazines and patterns - oh dear heaven I'm going to miss them so much. Yes, again there is the Internet - but how do I know I can't live without a new book if I haven't seen it yet? All of the latest purchases in that line - and there are many - are going to have to go in my trusty handbaggage, an expandable rucksack, because they'll be far too heavy for the checked baggage. I might never see them again, you realise that? I might NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN!

OK, I'll calm down. This isn't the end of the world, it's just the end of a trip approaching. And I still have today, Sunday (not so good, I suspect) and Monday. Plus as much of Tuesday as I have the nerve to use before heading for the airport. You can never relax, can you, when that departure time is hanging there as an unspoken threat? There is a yarn store in Surrey, below Vancouver, that I think carries a really good range of dyes and I MUST have a good choice of dyes. If you're lucky at home you find Dylon in green, red, brown. That's it. And not very exciting green, red, brown, either, I can tell you. I want those wonderful magentas and purples and ochres and goldens and marigolds and sea blues and forests and mosses and everything in between. What will the customs men (or indeed the sniffer dogs) make of them? Don't ask. I don't want to think about that. With any luck they won't check.

This morning we go across to Quadra Island to see Fun Knits. Its friendly owner is in fact one island over, on Cortes for the day, at a knitting seminar, but she has arranged for her mother to keep shop so that I can go in. I love the idea of walking up from the pier to a new yarn shop, full of possibility, and bringing my loot back over the sea to Campbell River. Will post you on that later. There is a lovely shop here in town too, the Needle & Arts Centre, run by Inge Kettler. I remembered this one from my last trip a year or so ago because it was the first place I'd seen women sitting and knitting over cups of coffee right there in the store. Oh I know it's a given now, but it was new then - or new to me - and I loved it.



This is Inge. When the local knitters have more time, in the winter, they get together with leftover balls from making up sample garments, and knit them into quilts for the local elderly folk, which is a very nice idea. I got some stunning yarn from Inge which was exactly (to my eyes) like the pebbly beach and blue water and seaweed of the shoreline here, and immediately started to make it up into a little short crop vest or shrug, so I can wear it while I'm here, right on the shoreline that inspired it.



The colours don't look too good here, but they might look better when it's done and out in the open air among the rocks and seaweed. It's full of hazy teals and blues and some golden browns and lots of different textures from warm wool to shiny viscose. Coventry from Trendsetter Yarns and no, I'm not going to tell you how much I paid for four balls - DH might read this weblog. (That's why it's a crop, a small, a short, a very exiguous vest after all.)

I was working away on this vest yesterday evening as the sun was setting and then a huge cruise liner hove into view, so DH obligingly gave my project a starring role in the scene.



Which I think it rather enjoyed really. After all, it's going to bear the name of this place throughout what I trust will be a useful and much used life, so it's good to have a picture of its birthplace.

So - Fun Knits on Quadra Island today, a shop in Cumberland, another snatched visit to Uptown Yarns in Courtenay if at all possible, then several in Victoria, to hunt down the legendary Seasilk. Over to the mainland, at least three more there on this side of the airport. Where will I pack it all? So much to do, so little time left. I've been reading other webloggers' posts and am amazed and delighted at how quickly you've all got into the autumn/fall feeling with projects. And I'm still out here, amassing the stash. You'll have a head start on me. I can feel the panic rising again...

When Webloggers Finally Meet!

The picture says it all. DH and I got to Courtenay on Vancouver Island on a beautifully autumnal sunny morning and there was beloved Peg of Woolinmysoup, Peg with whom I have weblogged and emailed for months, right there in person.

It's an incredible feeling when you actually meet a fellow knitter and weblogger. You have exchanged so many confidences, so much personal information through your postings that by the time you come face to face you are already old friends. And that was exactly how it proved. I hauled out a couple of small things I'd got especially for Peg in Ireland and hidden away in my suitcase, and then she - this was a complete lovely shock - brought out the most beautiful little felted bag for me.




It is about eight inches high and knitted in three natural shades of brown, camel and fawn, with its own lovely drawstring to keep treasures inside safely hidden. And what a treasure there was inside!



Isn't this just the most beautiful lace scarf you've ever seen? I couldn't believe that Peg had made it especially for me. It is light as thistledown, as gossamer, and almost flies by itself in the slightest breeze.



Here are Peg and her lovely husband John looking amused while I play entranced with my new length of airy thistledown lace.

We hadn't even got into Peg's LYS yet at this stage but were still talking and laughing outside while my own DH took pictures at lightning speed (well, he's used to capturing unique moments, it's his job!) So John most obligingly took R out looking for scenery and wildlife while Peg and I hit Jen's lovely Uptown Yarns, completely immersed in chat and laughter and exchanging of scrappy sentences that said 'This is great - I can't believe we've met at last!'

I have to tell you that meeting up with a fellow blogger is so marvellous we should all do it. There is an incredible linkage and power source in all these postings which I don't quite fathom yet, but know it's there. I honestly and truly think we could be a power for sanity and beauty in a world going ever more quickly mad. Can't we arrange web-log-ins in different places?

I must say Peg is blessed in her LYS. It is a gorgeously crowded little place with tempting shelves, snippets and baskets of different colours, textures, fibres at every turn. I was so excited with the journey and the meeting and the gifts that I couldn't settle on anything and bounced from one to the other like a kid. Jen, the owner, and her mother were both calm kindness as they observed their normally well behaved regular and her wildly erratic friend careering around talking at the tops of their voices and calling to each other to look at this yarn or that.

And then to top it all, just as I was fingering yet again the most beautiful hand-dyed yarns I'd ever seen, ,in came the designer responsible for creating them - one Judy McLean who lives right there on Vancouver Island. My heavens, you should see the mohairs and laceweights and homespuns and so much more, all in the most incredibly dreamlike shades. She was fascinating to talk to, as she told us how she'd gradually moved from creating one-of-a-kind sweaters to producing the unique yarns themselves and how she loved doing that. Peg, forgive me, but all this travelling is making me most disorganised and I can't even find Jen's yarn store business card with Judy's details on the back. Is she Sweatergirl Yarns? Can you tell people where to find them, until I get home and back to where I can put my hand on things quickly? And my eternal regret is that I didn't even have a camera in the yarn store. Will just have to call in again on the way back down the island, if only to get a picture of lovely happy Jen and her mother in their utterly desirable shop.

Now up at Campbell River with the sun just rising across the water behind Quadra Island and the occasional ship sliding by silently through Discovery Passage. But my thoughts are still with the wonder of meeting fellow webloggers and the joy it brings. This is something I want to do again. And again.

Tomorrow or tonight, depending on whether I can get the laptop from R again, I'll post on the shameful self-indulgences so far - did I really need a set of Lantern Moon dpns (only one answer to that...) And Briggs Mill roving... And the One Skein book...?

Shhh, I think I've sneaked up on Blogger unawares...

We're getting ready to leave for Tete Jaune at 8 am but think that Blogger might just still be asleep and won't notice me trying to upload pictures, so typing this as DH has his granola (great granola they serve here at the Bear's Hill Lodge) and I break off bits of a cheese scone in between typing on the breakfast table.

I tried to do this last night as well (never stop thinking about you waiting for the pics) and had got right through to the very last one when the whole thing crashed. D - m -nation! Still, here's hoping.



Well, got one in at least. Here's that very first of what I hope will be many yarn stores, the one in Chilliwack the morning after we arrived...



and here's the interior, lovely and crowded. I'm admiring that incredible jacket made from the book which explores new ways and shapes - can't remember its title or even author right now but will give you a closeup of the jacket next posting and you'll probably know it right off. That's the new Vogue Knitting mag under my arm.



Here's the first proof that it is better to travel hopefully than to arrive in a town late on Saturday night. Mostly quilting stuff in the window but I could see lots of yarn in the dim interior (this is 9 pm by the way).



And here's the second. First time I've seen one using the title 'Fibre' - and hey, they spell it like we do. Is that a Canadian thing?



Here's a closeup of the window - that's me reflected in the mirror, with DH pointing the camera. Silk, mohair, soy, chenille - what a beautifully designed window, calculated to get you leaping right in there to explore the treasures beyond.



Aren't these felted boots irresistible? They're made in Nepal, according to the label. Lovely jester footwear for the holiday season.



And finally here is one of those amazing peaks on the Icefield Parkway with the clouds forming and blowing above it. What a huge, impressive, slightly frightening place that icy world is.

Fingers crossed, I'm going to press Publish Post now. That's where it all crashed yesterday... Next time I'll show you the furious elk, full of desire and bad temper, and the dawn over Pyramid Lake...

Warning: Saturday Night/Sunday Morning Signifies Shuttered Yarn Stores!

Greetings from Jasper, in the heart of the snowy Rockies! Gosh, that was a long drive up from Chilliwack. And don't start laughing, I'd done my mapping homework and I knew exactly the mileage - it just didn't make the actual driving any easier. If anything it was worse, knowing how much more there was still to do.

And of course we didn't leave Chilliwack until midday, firstly because we slept like logs, getting rid of the jetlag, and secondly because there was that yarn store to check out...

The actual owner was away and the lady left in charge didn't know too much about yarn and yarn issues - hadn't heard of the Yarn Harlot (hey, this is Canada, and a Canadian yarn store, right?) and didn't know about Interweave magazine. Still it was a nice packed shop, and I bought the latest Vogue Knitting plus Nancy Wiseman's Shawls, Stoles and Scarves (hope I've got author and titles right since I'm typing this on R's laptop in my knee in the car and can't check) which I'd wanted for some time.

Long long drive to Revelstoke where we arrived late on Saturday evening. And what do you know, although they hadn't shown up on my pre-trip search, this town boasts not just one but two yarn stores, a happy looking place on 1st St. West and an utterly gorgeous Fibre Market on Mackenzie. But of course it was Saturday night, and tomorrow was going to be Sunday, all day, and they were shut, shut, shut! No hope till Monday. DH gently pulled my grasping hands from the door of Fibre Market - which had the most superbly cunning window display I've ever seen - and coaxed me over to Bad Paul's for dinner. A mug of local draft beer (Attila the Honey) restored my calm somewhat, but for the rest of my life I will regret those Revelstoke stores. 'They might not have been any good,' observed DH helpfully. They might not at that. But I'll never know. They might have held treasures unavailable anywhere else in the world. One of you nip up and check, will you? At least you're on the same continent, most of you.

(Blogger is steadfastly refusing to upload pictures, so might have to wait until we get somewhere with better reception - sorry, because they were really nice.)

Revelstoke to that packed and noisy hellhole called Lake Louise and then the beauty of the long road across to Jasper with snowy peaks on either side. Found elk grazing by the roadside just as we hit Jasper which was a treat, and collapsed here for a rest. This morning (Monday) going down to check Stytchen Time on Patricia Street and will let you have all the details later. Peeked through their window last night and saw all kinds of rainbow dyed fleece and hints of irresistible yarns...

Darn it, wish I could get some pictures up. Went out before dawn this morning (we're still waking around 4 or 5, can't adjust to the 9 hours difference) and saw the sun rise over Pyramid Lake. We were absolutely on our own out in the cold beautiful silence, with the mist floating over the surface of the lake and the clouds gradually turning rosy pink. It was a joy and a privilege to be there.

Charity, I wish I do wish I could get up to Prince George but it's just too far. We'll stay here in Jasper till tomorrow and then head over to Tete Jaune and from there turn back towards Whistler and the coast. I really would have loved to see you. Maybe next time? But Peg, I'm on course to see you at Uptown Yarns in Courtenay on the Island around Thursday afternoon or Friday morning if you're in town - I have your phone number so will let you know when we're approaching the coast. Plus planning a final binge in Beehive Yarns in Victoria, where Seasilk has been known to lurk. Anybody who wants to make a fun yarn hunting trip to Victoria next Monday, I'll be there!

Will try once more with the pictures. Hold on.

Nope, no luck. But rest assured, I'm logging every yarn store in every town I pass through (the one in Salmon Arm is closed by the way, although the quilting shop stocks some of those fun fur yarns). And as soon as we reach a location with really good connections, I'll post lots of pictures.

Love

Jo

Yo, Fiendish Irish Knitter Lands in BC!

We got here, we got here, and what a marathon that was. A 4 am start is really not my favourite thing. Mercifully the howling gales and rainstorms had blown themselves out so at least we didn't get drenched leaving. Quick flight to Amsterdam followed by several hours of waiting around. I know, I know, the cool thing to do is take the train into the city to look at canals, but you can't quite relax, can you, with another flight looming on the distant horizon. Fortunately it's one of my favourite airports to spend some time - they have cute little mini-trolleys for your hand luggage (and free too - other airports take note!) there are some amazing shops, even electronic ones for DH, and how many other airports have a museum with an exhibition of Rembrandt and other old masters? Or a comfort zone where you can get a shoulder massage or a full body aqua-treatment? Plus their coffee is good, strong, and can wake up even someone who started at 4 am. With six hours between flights, the Glitz socks got a good workout.




It was the first time I'd tried hooking the little bag on to my belt and wandering around knitting, and it worked very well. Most people averted their eyes but one elderly Dutch lady was enchanted, patting my arm and saying, 'Good, good, very good,' and a fashionable gent manning a gift store was also fascinated. Maybe they'll go on from there, we must continue the good work!

It's exasperating to fly from Cork into central Europe, wait there six hours and then fly right back over Ireland to go to Canada, but that's the way it works these days - you have to get to the best hub for your trip. A nine hours plus flight tests your endurance too. Got right through a lightweight but fairly thick novel and the socks were nearly knee-length before we got to a sight that made any inconvenience worthwhile -



The coast of Greenland, totally clear with the late afternoon sunshine throwing the mountains into sharp relief. It was the kind of sight you couldn't believe you were seeing even as you flew. I forgave DH yet again for taking the window seat - his results are usually a lot better than mine.

Gosh, you Canadians, you do have a big country, don't you? Once we'd passed Greenland, which took long enough, and could finally see Canadian soil far below, there was still almost half the journey to do. How many rounds can you knit before your patience and eyes start to whinge 'Are we there yet?'



Much as I love them, I was genuinely feeling a bit sick of socks before at last we were circling over the beautiful coastline of British Columbia, seeing the huge rafts of logs floating in the Fraser River below, and dropping to the airport. And then a car to pick up, the complexities of the evening rush hour to navigate (it was about 5 pm by this time) and we headed out towards Chilliwack and the hills.



The sun was setting behind us and gilding everything in a rosy glow as we reached Chilliwack and waited for a huge freight train to pass before at last pulling up outside a motel and gratefully climbing out to stretch our tired limbs. Staying here the night to recover from the jet lag and a full 24 hours travelling. And tomorrow morning...? Tee hee, DH doesn't know it, but I've done my homework. There are two yarn stores in this here town! Will just one have that Interweave Knits issue with the Icarus Shawl that you've all been going on about and I have had to listen to you going on about all summer? Catch up with you at the next stop. Miss you!

Fair Sets The Wind For British Columbia!

Right, 9.30 at night here and really time to close down. We have to get up at 4 am (why is everybody from Yarn Harlot to Ms. Knitingale getting up at 4 am lately, really I feel in good company!) to get to the airport. Fly to Amsterdam and then to Vancouver, getting in almost at the same time we leave, thanks to the delights of different time zones.

Rest assured I will miss no opportunity to update the weblog and see what you have all been up to. This is my first lengthy trip away since getting into the whole weblogging thing and I will MISS everybody.

Until we talk again, here's my very very favourite poem. You probably know it, and it's a bit hackneyed by now, I suppose, but it expresses so much.

An Old Woman Of The Roads.

Oh, to have a little house,
To own the hearth and stool and all,
The heaped up sods upon the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall.

To have a clock with weights and chains,
And pendulum swinging up and down,
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled, and white and blue and brown.

I could be busy all the day,
Cleaning and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on the shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store.

I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself
Sure of a bed and loth to leave
The ticking clock and the shining delph.

Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,
And roads where there's never a house nor bush,
And tired I am of bog and track,
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush.

And I am praying to God on high,
And I am praying him night and day,
For a little house - a house of my own,
Out of the wind and the rain's way.

Padraic Colum.