I don’t always take 6½ years to publish a pattern, but when I do, it’s quick, easy, and free.
Siurana was knit one midwinter in France, when climbing days meant chasing the sun and freezing while my partner worked on his project. It’s the third hat in The Destination Series, for the climbing areas I know and love. Antalya came first, followed by St. Léger. Now this. Knit in 2009, published in 2016.
Siurana is a generous type of hat: a deep, deep brim for pulling down over frosty earlobes and a long, slouchy body for tucking ponytails or braids in. It’s knit as a firmer fabric, for retaining heat. It’s made for the no-nonsense type of activity I anticipate the wearer participating in: muscle-aching, finger-popping, sweat-inducing, endorphin-producing. It’s got cables that reveal themselves slyly, an allusion to the hidden holds of some Siurana routes (at least, the routes I was on). It fits you, your climbing partner, your friends visiting from Cali who skipped the headgear, and the random crag dog enamored with its sheepy heritage. On off days it’s handy for spontaneous cherry picking or mosquito swatting, and can, in a pinch, serve as an oven mitt at a campfire.
It’s a utilitarian hat, not made to be pretty but to be worn, and loved, and warshed, and lost, and knit over and over again.
Of natural phenomena, it is the collision of particles from outer space with earthly atoms and molecules in our atmosphere that leave me speechless every time I see it. Perhaps because I haven’t yet seen the lights in situ? (Or from space!)