Around here, it is all about the tartan right now. The doctor is these days fully embracing his ancestral heritage, and as Americans, we have a lot to choose from, but in among the mixed multitude of mostly European DNA, we are Scottish--he is clan Morrison, and I (by a sliver) am clan Murray. Along those lines, he lately found himself in the position of needing some kilt hose. Say no more, I thought, and spent a few sly pre-holiday hours knitting these while he was at work.
His mother gave him her gorgeous calves, and what better to show them off? It was this or superhero tights, I can tell you. It’s only the elastic on the flashes (is that the right term? Flashes? Oy, I’m still learning) that keeps the hose up at all, and it’s a true miracle that they fit him. Knitting a secret pair of kilt hose for someone with eccentric calves is a leap of faith, people.
Winter is long in these parts. The hours must be filled. We have watched Braveheart, and discussed the historical inaccuracies therein. There is a ceremonial dagger in progress, and a sporran. He has, in half-seriousness, considered DIY-ing some bagpipes, which I frankly would adore, but I do have a doubt or two. We, obviously, don’t play the pipes. How would anybody know whether they sounded right? I think what stops him is the poor state of his wood lathe, or else it would be happening. He gets an idea, it happens. Stay tuned.
The lovely free pattern is called Toirneach and I used worsted weight KnitPicks Wool of the Andes in “Down Heather” on US 4 dpns. I managed to finish these and block them with time to spare, whew.
We will be at the Irish Festival this year (yes, he’s Irish, too,) kitted and fully kilted, and dreaming of the thistle and heather.