Hebridean Hose
My grandmother in North Uist used to knit kilt socks, with no need of a pattern,
Each pair with their own individual design at the top,
Barley braids, chunky columns, diagonal twists,
Gripping the leg,
The heels turned expertly, curved and cushioned,
Tapered toes grafted for a smooth rounded finish, no bumpy seam.
Homespun fleeces in natural hues of the Hebrides,
Dark peat, light bleached beach sand, North sea green.
I attempt socks for the first time, following instructions from my screen,
Using a skein of multicoloured self striping wool in muted greens, purple blues with a hot pink pop in between,
Making fine zigzags spiralling in ever changing combinations around the leg,
At the boomerang heel, there are broader bolder bands of each colour, meeting at right angles,
On the North Uist roadside, pale pink tendril-petalled ragged robin, blows in the breeze,
Irises, deep blue, tall flamboyant flags, surrounded by straight blades,
On the machair, bright pink globes of clover, intermingled with thread-stemmed, sky blue harebells,
On the dunes, grows the grey green marram grass, that stabs your bare legs.