Brigid (Brid)'s Profile

About

Hi,i'm a granny and Irish, now living in lovely Glenariff, near Cushendall, county Antrim - it's one of the beautiful nine glens of Antrim
I've always loved making things. My mother taught me how to knit and my granny taught me crochet. I knitted my first garment when I was at primary school - an emerald green jumper using yarn 'ripped out' from an old cardigan of my mother's - those were the days of post-war thrift.
Granny was an expert at crochet - her specialism was the fine white Irish crochet known as Clones Lace. In the upper room at Eshnadarragh (waterfall of the oak tree), on the slopes of Slieve Beagh in County Fermanagh, there were also 'granny square' cushions made from randomly coloured wool. There were few books and no TV when my sister and I stayed there, -Scroll down to read a poem i wrote about those times at Eshnadarragh - but i remember being fascinated by an old Dulux paint chart which we…

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  • Female
  • Born on October 11
  • Joined February 22, 2008

Favorite materials

Yarn in wool, alpaca, mohair, silk, angora, anything cuddly soft, fuzzy

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celticgran
irish granny originals

About

Hi,i'm a granny and Irish, now living in lovely Glenariff, near Cushendall, county Antrim - it's one of the beautiful nine glens of Antrim
I've always loved making things. My mother taught me how to knit and my granny taught me crochet. I knitted my first garment when I was at primary school - an emerald green jumper using yarn 'ripped out' from an old cardigan of my mother's - those were the days of post-war thrift.
Granny was an expert at crochet - her specialism was the fine white Irish crochet known as Clones Lace. In the upper room at Eshnadarragh (waterfall of the oak tree), on the slopes of Slieve Beagh in County Fermanagh, there were also 'granny square' cushions made from randomly coloured wool. There were few books and no TV when my sister and I stayed there, -Scroll down to read a poem i wrote about those times at Eshnadarragh - but i remember being fascinated by an old Dulux paint chart which we found in the shed among the half empty paint pots. I loved the shiny colour samples and the words to describe them - Wedgewood blue, moonlight grey - i've always loved colour! Time moves on and I now have three lovely grandchildren of my own.

I mainly sell on Etsy but sometimes sell my craftings elsewhere on the net, as 'irish granny'.

Here's that poem i wrote about my own irish granny,

My grandmother, Minnie McGinnity (1894 - 1970)

A hat with cherries in red and yellow
on a peg between the rooms,
white lace with clover and roses
handmade with crochet hook,
snapdragons in pink and yellow,
soft primroses growing wild,
chaffinches on the blackcurrants,
i remember as a child
cushions in bright colours
crocheted in granny squares,
she taught me how to hold the hook
i forgot it for a while.

Her room was a room of statues
Fatima and Lourdes,
photos of their pilgrimage
Grandad in French beret,
statues of Martin de Porres,
the holy child of Prague,
a roll of green notes hidden inside
Our Lady in gilded robes.

On the table there were blue tits
together in a nest,
salt and pepper shakers
a bird in either hand.
The picture hanging over the bed
was riddled with woodworm holes,
the book was a Christmas Carol
i read the bits about ghosts
in a room where the ceiling slanted
dark with polished wood.
The window at floor level
looked westward down the lane
to hedges of purple pink fuschia
Mex petrol pump rusting away.

I remember her lighting the gas lamp
its gentle sputtering sound
and the moths that came in from the darkness
at the close of those summer days
the jam and wheaten bread making,
hot water on the peat range,
the cat that slept in the boot polish box,
net curtains dotted with yellow and black,
like captured bumble bees.

I remember the rumbling landslide of turf
when we took from the base of the pile
the cool of the substitute bakelite eggs
used to keep the hens happy and laying.

What else? The donkeys outside the shop,
blue crystals of copper sulphate,
the box of clay pipes, the shampoo sachets,
the huge tin of Cadbury's Roses,
the post office nook where the pensions were dealt,
the stairs to the store room above,
the china and glass, the cards of hair grips,
weighing the sugar in bags,
the telephone box with its heavy red door,
the mystique of its buttons and slots ......

Though granny was busy i think she could see
the beauty in things that were near
she liked to wear cherries, grow yellow snapdragons
and her curtains were humming with bees.

From 'Beyond the Tumtum Tree' a book of poems by Brid Mulholland, published by New Century Press, Durham 2001. Full copyright owned and asserted by the author.

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