Tuesday, October 31, 2023

Yucca Curls


Day 18: There's a point where I draw the line insofar as fiberarts are concerned, but I have to admit I'd be tempted to try retting, pounding and twisting yucca fiber into cordage if I didn't know it would be pretty hard on my hands. I hadn't really thought about it until I was out in the yard a few minutes ago and noticed these curls at the edges of my yucca's leaves. I mean, it's like they're offering themselves to me in a way, saying, "Look! New fiber source! You know you want to try it!" Do I? My plant is still quite small. I probably wouldn't get enough fiber to make a thimble-sized basket without stripping it entirely of leaves. Let's put this idea on hold, shall we? In the meantime, I'm going to read up on the traditional methods, the easiest methods, the best methods and all the pitfalls associated with processing yucca into something usable.

Monday, October 30, 2023

Time To A-ply Myself


Day 17: It's time to "a-ply" myself to the task! There's a system here, not a backlog. You see, it's recommended that after spinning a "singles" (I'd call it a "single," but the spinning community uses "singles" as a singular noun), you let the yarn have at least 24 hours to rest and adjust to its new twisted lifestyle. This gives it time to get the kinks out before it's asked to twist the opposite direction in tandem with another "singles." I spin one bobbin and set it aside. Then I spin another. In order to give the second one its rest, then I will spin a third (in this case, of a different colour), and when that one is off the wheel, then I can ply the first two singles together. Alternately, I can spin two more singles as I've done here, which gives the second two a chance to rest while I ply the first two. It really isn't as complicated as it sounds. In the end, these four bobbins will yield two double-ply yarns and will then be freed up for the next round of singles spinning.

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Eight-Throw Pinwheels


Day 16: You might recall my use of the word "challenging" in yesterday's post. This is it. I am weaving a pattern designed for an eight-harness loom on a rigid heddle. That means that out of the eight sheds required, only two are loom-generated. The other six have to be manually picked up with a pickup stick. One pinwheel (eight passes of the shuttle) takes about ten minutes to create. It's easier to see the design from the side like this. Looking straight down on it (the weaver's perspective), your eyes tend to go all M.-C.-Escher-ish, only allowing you to see either green whirligigs or blue ones. However, at this stage of the game, the weaver is focused on individual threads: lift two, push one down, lift one, push another one down, lift one, push two down, repeating the sequence for that throw across each colour. The six pickup rows are all different, three starting with "lift," three with "push down." It's amazing how many times your mouth can say "lift" even as your fingers push down the threads. Which was correct? Pause, regroup, begin again. Focus is mandatory here. Destined to be a runner for the harpsichord, the spring colours are apropos. It may take me until April to finish it!

Saturday, October 28, 2023

Working Up The Chain


Day 15: Yesterday was spent working my way up the chain, i.e., winding warp onto one of my rigid-heddle looms for a rather challenging project. I should explain that I live in a small house. While I have sometimes had several looms and a quilting frame set up in the living room (the Loom Room being almost fully occupied by the floor loom and storage cupboards), having multiple "portable" projects in my living space makes me feel a bit too squeezed. For that reason, I tend to cycle through the various types of weaving, albeit not in order, going from one band loom to another, to inkle to rigid-heddle to backstrap and so on. I just finished a band on my Leksand loom, so I decided she needed a rest. A particular pattern has been nagging me to try it, and since my floor loom is full of overshot and my table loom is full of false damask, the only feasible solution was to pull out the larger of my rigid-heddle looms (I'll be explaining the project in greater depth in an upcoming post). Just suffice to say that I measured warp from peg to beam ten feet away while navigating around a quilting frame, two warping boards, one band loom, a frame loom and a spinning wheel, plus various baskets of fiber and tools without tripping even once. Tippy, familiar with his mama's antics, prudently stayed in the chair.

Friday, October 27, 2023

Killing Frost


Day 14: We've had our first "killing frost," 26° F to be exact (that's -3.5° C to you metric types). Any delicate plants are done for, tender annuals terminated, and the coup de grace has been delivered to the vegetable garden, but over there on the fence, the bryophytes are demonstrating what it takes to survive in a harsh world. How do they manage? The secret lies in the ability of their tissues to husband sugars. When frost draws moisture out of them in a way which would kill most other plants, it serves to concentrate the sugars within mosses and lichens, thereby lowering the freezing point. Cold-hardy plants utilize this same strategy, although most of them aren't as good at it as the bryos. You can't help but admire the evolutionary process here. A bit of vegetation we deem "primitive" is better equipped to withstand climate extremes than we are. That should make you re-think your position in the scheme of things, shouldn't it?

Thursday, October 26, 2023

Finishing Touch


Day 13: Sometimes it takes just the right thing to add a finishing touch to a project. When I began, I wasn't sure what I'd use for a handle on the lid of this pine-needle basket, although I knew it had to be a natural object. Oh, sure, I could have used a wooden ball, but that would have been boring. I began evaluating possibilities. Fir cones would be too fragile, walnut shells too hard to grip. Dried shelf fungi might deteriorate too quickly, and sections of twig fell into the "boring" category alongside beads and drawer pulls. My "perfect choice" needed to be small and shapely like...like a hazelnut? No, like an acorn! I put out a request to my east-coast sisters, and shortly thereafter received a bag of acorns in the mail. As a test, I treated some in the oven to kill the worms I suspected lurked inside, but found that heat made the thin shells brittle. They shattered when I tried to saw off the pointy ends. Sawing the fresh ones presented a different set of problems. For one thing, I had no way to clamp them in a vise and had to pinch the acorn between my fingers. I scored a few fingernails before I had successfully cut half a dozen of various sizes. Scraping the raw nut meat out of the interior was no easy task either, and in the process, the "lids" (caps) had a tendency to pop off, so I glued them back on. Then I filled the hollow centers with wood putty, leaving a pilot hole into which a screw could be inserted to hold the acorn to the basket's lid securely. Voila! A cute little basket just the right size to hold the bobbins I use with my Leksand loom.

Wednesday, October 25, 2023

Looking Forward


Day 12: If you were to say that this Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus) was looking forward to having breakfast at my feeder, you'd be right on two counts. On the first, he failed miserably, since every small bird in the yard quickly flew into the safety of the contorted filbert. On the second, a forty-degree field of binocular vision allowed the hunter to better gauge distance, position and size of the intended prey. Hawks' eyes are set in their heads with a greater forward rotation than that of most songbirds, and their full range of vision may extend up to 280 degrees. Some studies have concluded that accipiters' visual acuity is as much as eight times better than that of a perfectly-sighted human.

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

Moving Forward With Horticulture


Day 11: Over the years, I have allowed certain flowering plants to go to seed in my garden in the hopes that they would come up the following year. I've had some successes and some failures, the latter perhaps because my little avian friends enjoy them and pick them up as soon as I walk away. I have also saved seed from poppies, nigella, columbine and other florals to plant in the spring, again with success and failure running about 50-50. However, I have never collected seed from any edible to replant until now.

Although I had to train my taste buds to appreciate the flavour at first, cilantro is now one of my favourite seasonings and absolutely essential in such dishes as enchiladas and refried beans. For the past several years, I've grown it from seed in a pot so that I have fresh leaves available any time, and a few plants from this year's crop bolted and set seed. While cleaning out the garden yesterday, I gathered a handful of mature heads, brought them indoors and cleaned them of debris, and am now drying the seed for winter storage. Although I intend to use the leaves if I get a crop next spring, cilantro seeds give us the spice known as coriander, and is used extensively in Middle Eastern and Indian cuisine.

Monday, October 23, 2023

Xylaria Hypoxylon, Carbon Antlers


Day 10: Right in my own back yard! None of my field guides mentioned the fact that Xylaria hypoxylon is a bioluminescent fungus. I only encountered the information by accident while searching the internet for other data on the species. Although the sky had begun to lighten, I thought it might still be possible to observe the phenomenon since they were growing on a rotting hawthorn stump in a dark corner of the yard. I ran out, grabbed a small stick en route to use as a probe, and tapped the tips of the horns gently. I was not disappointed. Tiny pinpoints of blue light appeared where I had disturbed them, fading after a few seconds. I will be repeating the experiment in full darkness, for sure! I have only observed bioluminescence once before, during a kayaking trip on Puget Sound, and that given off by algae was green as opposed to the blue of this fungus. Xylaria hypoxylon is known commonly as Carbon Antlers or Candlesnuff Fungus, and occurs only on rotting wood. What a thrill!

Sunday, October 22, 2023

Mis Libros Favoritos


Day 9: Estos son mis libros favoritos. ¿Por qué? ¡Porque los puedo leer en español! Yes, I'm working on Spanish again, and I'm progressing far better than with any previous attempt. Why? First of all, I have been using several different methods of learning, including DuoLingo's quirky, semi-functional website, as well as following several "comprehensible input" teachers on YouTube. I refer to Google Translate for pronunciations and definitions of unfamiliar words, and sometimes type in paragraphs so that I can read them aloud along with the robotic voice, improving on its inflection. However, the thing which is making the most difference in my learning curve is that I am reading books on subjects dear to me, specifically birds, plants and the sciences. Relevance matters! I am not the least bit interested in hotels, taxis and airports, but I find that I retain more if I can infer meaning from context when reading that a bird's wing ("ala") is flat ("plana") on the underside ('por debajo") and curved ("curva") on the upper surface ("por arriba") so that the pressure of the air which passes over the top is less than that which passes underneath, thereby giving the bird lift. This is what is meant by the phrase "acquiring a language," as opposed to learning its grammar and vocabulary by rote. I'm sure I will have many more opportunities to discuss the fact that a fifth of a bird's body cavity is occupied by air sacs than I will have chances to repeat DuoLingo's phrase, "My dog doesn't shower every day."

Saturday, October 21, 2023

Ruminating On 'Shrooms


Day 8: When my husband and I inherited his grandparents' small acreage on one of southwest Washington's prairies, we promptly dubbed it "Toadstool Acres" for the numerous varieties of mushrooms growing there. We had morels off the back step in spring, boletas throughout the yard, shaggymanes behind the root cellar, but most notable was the sheer number of Amanitas, especially A. muscaria, which is arguably the most recognizable mushroom in the world with its bright red cap and white spots. Hubby enjoyed daily rambles in our woods, and had noticed that deer seemed to be eating mushrooms with abandon, including the poisonous Amanitas. He asked me how they survived since, like us, deer are mammals. I told him, "I don't know, but I'm not eatin' deer liver. That's where all those toxins go." Since then, I've done my homework, and could give him two reasons: first, deer are ruminants. Their four-chambered stomachs process foods differently, and at least two of the chambers contain bacteria which break down the toxic alkaloids. Second, deer do not gorge on a single food. They are browsers, grazers, and therefore rarely (if ever) consume toxic doses, although amanita poisoning has occasionally been found in cattle.

Here at the foot of the Mountain, my yard also sprouts a fairly wide but different selection of 'shrooms, and again, the deer consume several species which would make a human sick. A few of the species currently fruiting in my yard include a blue-staining bolete (top left, blue-staining varieties cause reactions in some people), Stropharia ambigua (lower left, poisonous), Russula occidentalis (lower right, dubious) and LBMs (top right), those infamous Little Brown Mushrooms which are impossible to identify unless you're an expert, and risky to consume. As one wit put it, "All mushrooms are edible...once." And I'm still not going to eat deer liver (not that I would eat venison anyway).

Friday, October 20, 2023

Filberts


Day 7: Some of you may recall that Harry Lauder, the contorted filbert, bloomed this last spring and began to set fruit. I had found empty shells under the tree at least once before in its thirty-year lifetime, but had never seen nuts hanging from its branches. Previous experience with filberts during my growing-up years suggested that it was highly likely that squirrels, birds or worms would carry them away before they could mature, so I built cages around several clusters as a horticultural experiment. Some critter outfoxed my efforts on all but two bunches, and these fell off naturally and were caught by the wires. They were still green when I brought them in the house, but are slowly turning the brown typical of the species. Will they have meats inside? If so, will they prove to be edible? Or will worms emerge at some point in the future, as they did from the acorns I had sitting in a basket? This experiment is not over yet, but at least it has demonstrated that Harry Lauder can indeed self-pollinate.

Thursday, October 19, 2023

Well, That's Annoying!

Day 6: For as many years' weaving as I have under my belt, you might have thought I'd have woven a twill gamp at some point, but somehow I had just never managed to get around to it. I decided to remedy the situation, because a gamp is a handy thing to have around. It's rather like an index of patterns which can be accomplished with specific threadings and treadlings. In this case, I threaded for traditional bird's-eye, broken twill, rose path and regular twill. Those are the four columns. The twelve rows are a selection of the different possible treadlings from each of the four threadings. The result is 48 different patterns within the same piece of cloth (random examples on the right). By referencing the grid, I can select whichever combination catches my fancy, e.g., rose path #4 over broken twill, etc. Weavers often make plain-weave or twill gamps of colours for much the same reason: to see how they interact with each other where they combine. A pattern gamp like this is a little more complicated, though. However, as much as it pains me to admit it, I made a mistake in the last few throws of the second block up from the bottom. You can see it just below the blue horizontal stripe. I was probably tired when I did it, swapping 1/2, 1/4 for 1/4, 1/2, and did not catch the error until the finished piece was hanging on my wall. Thoroughly annoyed with myself, I've already started a second gamp on the same patterns, although in a different colour.

Wednesday, October 18, 2023

Lemon Discos


Day 5: Having discovered Lemon Discos entirely by accident several years ago, I now make an annual autumn pilgrimage to their log to assure myself that they're doing well. I have never found them in any other location, but the species is purportedly common. The issue with finding them is their size. At most, Bisporella citrina achieves a diameter of 4 mm, and not often that! Compare the grass blade in the upper left corner. These ranged from microscopic to a whopping 2 mm. Observation from the side, if you cared to lay your cheek against wet, rotting hardwood, would show that each disc(o) is supported by a short pseudostipe. Whatever they may lack in size, they make up for it in sheer cuteness, at least in the opinion of this easily entertained naturalist.

Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Lazy Kate


Day 4: Why this device is called a "lazy Kate" is beyond the scope of my etymological knowledge. "Lazy susan" I can understand. Perhaps Susan (the iconic housewife) was too lazy to walk around the table serving her guests. "Lazy daisies" in embroidery are made simply and quickly in contrast to those worked in a proper satin stitch. Was Kate the hypothetical daughter whose household chore it was to hold her mother's spindles, turning them as the strands of single yarn was plied? I could imagine her becoming bored quite quickly. Whatever the origin of the term, it now applies to a variety of implements which serve the same purpose. Some are tensioned, others not. Some hold multiple bobbins, others only two. Daughter Kate is released from her onerous task and freed to do other things like milking the goats, churning butter, gathering eggs. Her lazy namesake has nothing better to do than to hold bobbins so that the threads flow freely as Mother sits at the wheel. Many spinning wheels now come equipped with built-in Kates, a boon for those of us who have no daughters, lazy or otherwise.

Monday, October 16, 2023

Zombie Season


Day 3: Zombie season is at hand! Or maybe that should be "at fingernails." They're reaching up from the forest floor, from stumps, from rock crevices and logs. They're coming to get you, and they want to eat your brains! Yes, lichens of all sorts are celebrating the return of cool, wet weather, and Peltigera membranacea is no exception. One of the "pelt" lichens, its fruiting bodies (apothecia) look suspiciously like the tips of zombie fingers groping for an ankle from beyond the grave. Will you be dragged into their lair this Hallowe'en? Mind your step and don't go out after dark! They're waiting, waiting, waiting...

Sunday, October 15, 2023

Bifurcation


Day 2: Calocera cornea is relatively common in our PNW forests at this time of year, but it takes a keen eye to spot it since it is relatively small. It grows on rotting conifer wood, in contrast to a similar and less common Calocera which prefers the wood of deciduous trees. Either species may exhibit bifurcated tips, so the best way to tell them apart without microscopic analysis is to observe the substrate. Despite its resemblance to the coralloid species, Calocera species are classified as jelly fungi.

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Get 'Em While They Last


Day 1: Today opens the fourteenth year of my daily blog, so it seemed appropriate to have an "in with the new, out with the old" post, and Shaggymanes seemed as good an example as any. Both of these photos were taken day before yesterday. The image on the left shows Coprinus comatus almost at its prime. The loose ring encircling the stipe of the one in the center indicates that it is just beginning to turn to ink. It would still be harvestable at this point, although the bottom part of the cap might need to be trimmed away before cooking. The 'shroom in the foreground has some darkening where the cap touches the stipe. This also is a sign that it's nearing the end of its optimum culinary desirability. The image at the right shows Shaggies which are well past their expiry date, having suffered from two days of rain. That said, this transition can occur in the space of 24 hours, so get 'em while they're fresh!

Friday, October 13, 2023

Shaggymane Hill


Day 365: When I first discovered Shaggymanes (Coprinus comatus) on a local but little-used hiking trail, I dubbed the spot "Coprinus Corner" and lodged the coordinates firmly in my mental GPS. Every year since then, the location has produced at least one bowl of soup. A few years ago, I found a few additional 'shrooms a bit farther up the hill and added two more spots to the map in my head. Yesterday, I decided to make a loop with a double purpose: to put some miles on my feet and to ascertain whether the hard rain had ruined all the budding Shaggies I'd seen last week. Since I didn't want to risk having them turn to ink if I carried them for the whole trip, I did the route in reverse of my usual pattern so that I would be closest to my car if I picked any. As I came down from the crest of the hike, this was what met my eye at the topmost recorded location. At least 85 percent of them were too far gone to harvest, but I managed to find enough firm ones for a very hefty bowl of soup. The ones at Coprinus Corner were past pull date. Now I think this area deserves renaming to "Shaggymane Hill."

Thursday, October 12, 2023

Seeing The Small Things


Day 364: A friend suggested that I notice small things because I'm built closer to the ground, i.e., I'm barely five feet tall. While his hypothesis has a certain degree of merit, I firmly believe that it's because I've trained my eye to spot the unusual, regardless of its size. In this instance, I was down on my knees in wet leaf litter taking photos of Lemon Discos (a fungus) which, at a diameter of a millimeter, are pretty dang little. About a foot to the left, something on the same log peculiar registered. "Is that a freakin' SNAIL???" I said. Sure enough, I was being observed by the tiniest snail I have ever seen. Obviously, I can't offer an ID, but I suspect it is Allogon townsendiana, one of our most common snails here in the PNW. The shell, roughly 2 mm in diameter, clearly exhibited whorls, and I could see the little eye stalks probing the world of giants. This image was taken with a 4x macro filter, also on a macro setting.

Wednesday, October 11, 2023

Thoughts And Prayers


Day 363: As an avowed atheist-slash-animist ("this one Crow all same-same rock-tree-bird"), I'm not long on the "thoughts and prayers" thing, but right now, the world needs all the help it can get, so I'm not above hedging my bets with some offerings to the deity my mother most revered. Ganesha, son of Shiva and Parvati, is widely known as the remover of obstacles, although he may also place them in the paths of those who are bent on mischief or harm to others. I've been giving him offerings of flowers since late summer when the black-eyes Susans were still in bloom. They're gone now, and only a few snapdragons light the flower beds with hot pink and yellow. The fragrant foliage of sweetfern serves as incense, but I fear these are poor tributes when laid against the griefs of the world.

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

King's Flower


Day 362: Oh, those infamous words: "It seemed like a good idea at the time." For all my careful planning, measuring, weighing, colour selection, etc., once I had woven 16" on the proposed holiday tablecloth, I said with emphatic asperity, "I do not like this, no, not one bit." I ruminated on the problem for a couple of days, trying to decide whether to keep going despite my sentiments or to simply cut it off the loom, thereby leaving myself short of the warp length I'd need to complete the seasonal project. I liked the pattern, but the floats were too long for my customary 8/2 cotton, and the colours I'd chosen simply didn't play well together. A pair of options faced me: I could rethread the loom with a different pattern, or I could try a heavier thread for the overshot and hope that it would plump up sufficiently to accommodate the floats. I happened to have two cones of a 5/2 blue with the same dye lot, so I elected to do the latter. The floats are still rather loose, but I think once the piece is subjected to a hot-water wash and high-heat drying, it will have shrunk up sufficiently to be used for bedroom curtains or some other low abrasion purpose. The next time I weave King's Flower, I will sett it at 24 epi so I can use 8/2 throughout.

Monday, October 9, 2023

Arachnophobia


Day 361: Arachnophobes, avert your eyes! My botany partners insisted that I post this since it was such a large specimen. I would have felt better about it had it not been walking up the wall right beside my front door, but there you have it. I wasn't going to inquire further into its personal information. I did step out a second time to measure it. Even with its legs bent more than they are here, it was an inch and a half from tip to tip. Had it raised a foot in my direction, I probably would have leapt so far I'd have come down in Canada. What is it that inspires arachnophobia in so many humans? I know that mine is due in part to having grown up in Black Widow country, and saw my mother's reaction when she found one in the corner of my sandbox as she let me out to play one morning. After her initial panic and frantic shrieks, she called my father home from work to dispatch it. Even now, I react strongly when even a small spider gets on me. (Footnote: I have been advised that this is NOT a Wolf Spider, but perhaps a species of Orb Weaver.) (Update: identified as Araneus saevus, Fierce Orb Weaver.)

Sunday, October 8, 2023

Twill Gamp


Day 360: According to Webster's Third New International Dictionary, the word "gamp" was derived from a character' surname in Charles Dickens' "Martin Chuzzlewit," Sairy Gamp. I won't argue with Webster, although I have the feeling there is a deeper history there. How it also came to be applied to the weaver's equivalent of a sampler, I do not know (nor, apparently, does Webster, other than to suggest it was pilfered from Dickens). A gamp can be as simple as an all-over tabby weave of different colours, helpful to the weaver who wants to see how they interact with each other, or a gamp may be a sampling of different threadings and treadlings such as the one I am making here. Each of these designs is threaded through the heddles in a different fashion, for example 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4 for one pattern, then 4-3-2-1-2-3-4-1-2-1 for the next, and so on across the width of the fabric. The treadling remains the same throughout the blocks, but treadling shafts 1 and 3 raises every other thread as 1-3-1-3 in the first instance and 3-1-3-1-1 in the second, a different pattern emerges. I will change to a different treadling for the next set of squares. Thus, with careful planning, it is possible to weave multiple designs across a single width of cloth. During my years as a weaver, I had never woven a twill gamp (i.e., one based in variations of the twill pattern). I thought it would be an amusing experiment.

Saturday, October 7, 2023

Shaggymane Season


Day 359: I'd gone out of the house at a dead lope, hurrying to get down to the pharmacy before they ran out of vaccines again, and other than grabbing a "perhaps bag" and sticking it in a day-pack, did not really consider what else I might need. Halfway to Eatonville, I said, "Oh, dang. I think there's a 'shroom knife in here someplace," and there was, tucked in the console. It wasn't until I got out of the car at the trailhead and started up the hill that I realized I didn't have a hat. I never go out without a hat, and the problem was that I was walking into the sun and it was blinding me. I got up to my Shaggymane patch, looked in all the usual places, didn't see anything, and then continued on up the hill to check a second site. There was nothing there either, so I turned around and started down. Now that I was facing away from the sun, I saw what I hadn't seen before: a nice cluster of a dozen or so 'shrooms just begging to be cream-of-shaggy soup. I'd gone right past them! The biggest one had begun to turn to ink, so I left it, and there were quite a few end-of-thumb sized caps poking up through the grass, too small to pick. If the rain doesn't ruin them, there'll be another batch of soup next week.

Friday, October 6, 2023

Forest Gold


Day 358: Like the old prospector said, "There's gold in them thar hills!" And there are more chanterelles in that basket than you might think. I know. I ate them all as one lunch fry-up, and was still too full at dinnertime to eat my regular meal. Admittedly, I had to hit three different spots to collect them all, but as is my usual wont, I left enough behind to seed future generations. Mushroomers are very protective when it comes to sharing locations where "forest gold" can be mined. I've lost too many sites when they were discovered by commercial pickers who harvest 'shrooms right down to pea-sized buttons. I probably should have divided this lot into a fry-up plus a bowl of soup, my usual limit for harvesting, but I didn't. I just sauteed them in butter with a little minced garlic, seasoned them with salt and pepper and pigged out.

Thursday, October 5, 2023

A Measure Of Success - Hardy Kiwis


Day 357: Sometimes even small successes are cause for celebration. Yes, my horticultural efforts finally resulted in a micro-harvest of hardy kiwis, and I think the key to ripening them on the vine was a night just short of a frost. They are roughly the size of raspberries, and eminently juicy and sweet, perhaps surpassing their larger cousins (at least those available in the grocery store) for flavour. The chipmunks nibbled a few while they were still hard, but for the most part, most of what hung on the vine through the heat of summer was undamaged. There are still some firm ones out there, almost as many as you see here...a small beginning, but proof nevertheless that my purportedly self-fertile vines ("Issai") actually do make fruit without a second variety to serve as a pollinator.

Wednesday, October 4, 2023

The Gatorade Method


Day 356: When I first began weaving, I had an assistant to help with warping in the person of my husband. "Help" is perhaps a mis-statement, because although I had heard that combing that warp with the fingers to straighten out tangles was a bad idea, he refused to listen to my instructions and we invariably wound up with a mass of thread spaghetti after only a few yards had been wound onto the warp roller. Once he was out of the picture, I had to devise a way to warp solo, and came up with what I jokingly call "The Gatorade Method." I saved up empty 16-ounce bottles, tied loops around their necks, loaded them with equal weights of water (which, I might add, can be changed depending on how tightly you want to wind the warp), and fastened my warp bundles to them so that they were barely suspended above the floor. Obviously, the bundles have to be retied roughly ever two feet, but the system allows me to wind the warp under even tension. When moving the bottles, I untie one, shake out the warp as if I was "giddyapping" a horse, then re-tie it and move to the next bundle. On a warp 16-24" wide, ten bottles is usually enough. Re-tied every two feet on a 24' warp...well, you get the idea. It's a lot of re-tying, but thread spaghetti is no longer an issue. And this warp, destined to be an overshot holiday tablecloth, is now ready to be threaded through the heddles.

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

October Weave-Along Towels


Day 355: Well, here they are: three shadow-weave towels and a "file sample," off the loom but not yet wet-finished, and I have to laugh at myself. I got so carried away with the rhythm of dark-light, dark-light that I completely forgot to put the yellow weft stripe in the last two. Shadow weave is fun! These were woven at 24 epi, more closely spaced than I usually weave with 8/2 cotton. There isn't much room for fulling here. I think 18-20 epi would be a better sett. The height of the vertical pattern rectangles is greater than the width of the horizontal ones, i.e., I did not achieve a balanced weave of 24 throws per inch, the preferred result for shadow weave when perfectly square motifs are the goal. Even so, the weave gives such a compelling optical effect that in this case, a balanced weave was not really mandatory. Widening the sett for this pattern would elongate the horizontal rectangles to the correct proportions. Switching to 10/2 cotton would also achieve the same end because it would beat more firmly. But they're towels, right? And this was my first time playing with shadow weave, thanks to Chris Acton's "October Weave-Along." Next up: a holiday tablecloth in overshot, and it's already partway hung on the loom.

Monday, October 2, 2023

The Joe Stick


Day 354: Four years ago, my botany partner Joe posted a photo of a blue-green fungus he had found in the watershed where he worked. We identified it as Chlorociboria aeruginascens, and at the time, I remarked that it was something I'd always wanted to see in person. A few weeks later, he showed up on my doorstep with a stick which was lightly encrusted with a blue film. "It doesn't look like much now. I think it dried out after I collected it," he told me. Given the habitat he reported in the area where he found it, I selected a spot for it in my front flower bed which offered similar conditions. Summer came and went, and a few weeks after the autumn rains had returned, I checked on the "Joe Stick" and was pleased to see it had sprouted cute little aqua blue cups. It has fruited every year since then, although the flush of fungal growth seems to be diminishing with each cycle. Still, I'm happy to have kept it going this long as one of my oddest horticultural projects.

Sunday, October 1, 2023

Socktober


Day 353: It...Sock...Tober. The first snow dusted Elbe Hills last week, and if I'd gone out an hour earlier this morning, I might have found a few patches of frost in the colder parts of the yard. The cucumber vine blackened, having given me precisely one cucumber, and the leaves on the mulberry (ever fruitless) are beginning to look rather limp. While the garden is in its throes, the vine maples are celebrating. Although I can't quite label this a "Red Year," they're coming close. Multiple conditions determine whether Acer circinatum turns red, orange or yellow, or whether it goes straight to brown, and the formula is too complex for mere humans to figure out. I'd call this year "mahogany." There's enough red in it to satisfy any leaf-peeper's soul even though it's not as fiery as it sometimes is. But it is definitely Socktober. My toes can attest to that.