You Intarsia, You Brought ‘er!

A few years ago, I spent a summer working and living in Washington, DC. Granted, I was young and naive. For some reason, however, the “poker! you poke her! you brought her!” joke was hysterical. It remains so to this day. I can explain it not. Once I began working intarsia, all I could hear was this joke in my head.

Speaking of intarsia, it isn’t nearly as difficult as I thought. Sure, it’s futsy. However, the end result will be worth it. Why, for the love of all things holy, am I doing intarsia, you may ask. As anyone who has ever met me will attest, I am fairly monochromatic. Occasionally, I venture into the realm of bichromatic. That is, unless you don’t count gray and black as separate colors. At which point, I revert back to monochromatic. However, when I saw this pattern:

(courtesy Plymouth Yarn)

I couldn’t resist using it as the perfect pattern for the imortalization of my Kerry Woolen Mills yarn. However, in my haste to purchase yarny goodness while abroad, I did not think about how much yardage one would need. Alas. I realized that I would want enough to make a special project. However, as discussed earlier, I have no commitment for making a sweater. Goodness, this is probably pushing my commitment level further than I thought I could take it.

Unfortunately, little did I realize that I wouldn’t have enough yarn to make this pattern, either, when I purchased said pattern. Upside, I found a class for it, and the teacher offered to help me by teaching me intarsia. The pattern isn’t terribly difficult, but does require attention. This is not football knitting. This is serious, attention required, cables and P1 K3, K1 P3 seed stitch ribbing knitting. However, even though each row currently takes about 20 minutes, the result will be gorgeous. The charcoal compliments the red beautifully. The buttons I bought are an abstract tree pattern, but the tree is so abstract that I question whether it really is a tree.

The Kerry Woolen Mills yarn is fabulous in its wooly goodness. The raspberry is luscious and deep. The charcoal is a beautiful shade of dark gray. Every time I pick up the yarn, I’m reminded of that rainy day driving the Ring of Kerry. How I saw the sign for the mill. How Mr. Adventure (who I decided needed a name better than DH) smilingly agreed to let me go off the beaten path to see the yarn. How as I drove through the green, I suddenly came upon this:

Then rounded the corner to view this:

How at first I was disappointed to the verge of tears that the shop was not yet open. How the owner found me as I made my way back to my little rented Nissan Micra to tell me he would open a few minutes early for me. How I stood in the dim light, fondling the wool. How I transferred my missing of my dogs onto the beautiful dog in the shop. How the owner turned to my husband and said, “who’s the knitter?” and how Mr. Adventure just chuckled and said, “yeah, not me.” How I hugged it and lugged it throughout the rest of our trip. How I came home and have thought about this yarn for the last five months. Every stitch is a memory turned into knitwear.

Every purl is a moment standing in the rain at Blarney. Every knit is walking a beach on the Dingle Peninsula. Every cable front is a winding road through the Wicklows. Every cable back is a walk through the Burren over the uneven ground to the Poulawack Cairn. Every intarsia yarn crossover is a view of the ocean off the end of the Dingle peninsula. Every whiff of the yarn’s faint animal smell is a reminder of the vast amounts of wooly animals on the roadsides and the roads (and whom I nearly creamed with a Nissan Micra).

Here is the progress of memory lane so far:

Here is a closeup of the cabling progress:

Here’s a closeup of the seed stitch rib:

Here’s a close up of the intarsia:

I plan to relive every moment I spent laughing with Mr. Adventure as I create knitwear. I plan on enjoying every moment of working with this yarn. I plan on making a living reminder of all the things that were wonderful about my trip. So, sure, you may have brought her, but I will be the one to intarsia my way through my memories.