A Sunny Easter

Day 170: The Bunny couldn't have asked for a more beautiful morning for hiding eggs, and although he didn't bring me any, he did deliver some chocolate in yesterday's mail. Why I should have taken a sudden craving for milk chocolate instead of my usual preference for extra-dark, super blackout, 90-92% cocoa is beyond me, but my stash was entirely devoid of anything lighter than 80%. That is neither here nor there. What matters is that the garden is beginning to show its true colours. The Hellebores are exceptionally flowery this year, although the daffodils have put on a weak showing so far. The Forsythia is lovely, its arching stems visible through the kitchen window when I'm washing dishes, and the Red-flowering Currant has begun to attract the hummingbirds even though the flowers aren't open far enough to admit their probing little beaks. It is a rare day in March when blue sky shows as a backdrop to the promise of more flowers to come.

They're Back!

Day 169: When I stepped out to fill the bird feeders yesterday morning, a familiar and anxiously anticipated chatter filled my ears. "They're back!" I said, as I began scanning the phone and power lines for swallows. Mine aren't as predictable as those which visit Capistrano, but they always arrive some time between mid-March to mid-April. The House of Chirp and Pussywillow Cottage go up in late February or early March to be sure housing is available, and already one potential renter has sized up the House of Chirp. It is the most desirable of the two, and has carried successful broods every year since I put it in place. Not so Pussywillow Cottage, which has been ravaged by a succession of squirrels, starlings and wasps, despite being relocated several times. During one notable mating season, the House of Chirp saw two broods hatch, and in another, produced six chicks in one brood. That year was particularly memorable for me because I witnessed five of them fledge. The sixth hung in the doorway much longer, and when I simply had to step away for a minute, it was gone when I returned. For the last several years, the occupants have been Tree Swallows (above, Tachycineta bicolor), although occasionally, Violet-Greens have made it their home. It is always a thrill for me to see the first twigs and grass being taken inside, or for a parent to return with a soft, white feather gleaned from parts unknown to line the nest. Here's to you, little ones! I look forward to watching you grow!

Undulating Twill

Day 168: The April Weave-Along has almost officially begun, and several of us have gotten a bit of a head start on the project, including me. The first challenge I faced was that the tie-up in the assignment draft did not match the way I have Max tied up, so I had two choices: get down on my hands and knees again and change the tie-up to one I might never use again, or change the draft to get the same undulating twill pattern. The issue with changing the draft is that there are a lot of "moving parts" (so to speak), and changing one thing means you have to change another. Add to that the fact that I am just learning how to use this weaving software...well, let's just say that added a whole 'nother layer of complexity. My first attempts turned the drawdown backwards, sideways, and many combinations thereof, but eventually I hit on the solution. However, after I had it threaded and began weaving, I discovered my sett was too wide at 20 epi, so I pulled everything out of the reed and rethreaded it at 24 epi. My finished piece isn't going to be as wide as it should have been, but since I was using 8/2 cotton instead of 8/4, I had added additional width to the original to compensate, so the finished piece will be only slightly narrower.

Two-Footed Spinning

Day 167: Apart from any of her other attributes, making it possible for me to spin with both feet was the most important advantage Bronka had to offer. My old Louët S15 is a single-treadle wheel, and particularly on Ply Day when I needed to devote myself to the task almost exclusively, I was prone to getting severe cramps in my right leg and a kink in my back from sitting cocked to one side for many hours. The double-treadle system is more like walking, both legs being used equally. That said, when I moved her from her overnight position and sat down to spin this morning, Bronka began talking to me with a rather loud squeak which had not been there yesterday evening. I could trace it to the treadles, but shifting my foot position or moving the treadles from side to side seemed to have no effect on it. As I shifted the spacers around, I noticed that the one in the center was wedge-shaped. Then I saw that the sides of the wedge weren't equally spaced from the axle hole, and the light dawned: Kromski intended the wedge as a central "foot," and I had the wrong side down. A half-turn, and Bronka's squeak disappeared. I'm finding other nuances in her construction as we become better acquainted, subtle things which make spinning easier and more enjoyable, and I am convinced that the person who had her before me had done very little spinning on her. Two of the three bobbins which come standard with this model don't even have leader cords on them, which tells me they were never used.

Bronka

Day 166: Here she is, my Bronka, my dream wheel, and she has already spun a few yards of fine wool thread, whisper-quiet and smooth as glass. Named for a dear friend who passed away earlier this year and who shared her Polish origins, she is a Kromski Minstrel, and represents years of longing on my part. She is currently set up with a single drive and Scotch tension, but operates as well with a double drive. I found her on consignment at one of my regular fiber suppliers at a price substantially below retail even for a used wheel of her breed, and although bringing her to live with me has grievously pinched the grocery budget for the next several months, I knew the opportunity would never come my way again. My weaving buddy Ed picked her up for me to save on shipping and brought her to my door today, complete with an additional niddy noddy for skeining the finished yarn.

Swofford Pond

Day 165: If you've been following along for any time, you will have heard me talk about Swofford Pond and the South Swofford trail. The pond is actually a small reservoir on the south side of Riffe Lake, kept in place by a little concrete dam, and no more than 15' deep at any point. What service it provides under the definition of "reservoir" is unclear, since it empties immediately into Riffe without any sign of a flume or pumping station. Along the north shore, there are a dozen or so single-car pullouts for fishermen, seldom fully occupied although the lake is stocked with hatchery trout. Combustion motors are not allowed on the pond, so boats are also a rare sight, except for yours truly who enjoys kayaking from one end to the other. The nature trail runs along the south shore, backed by hills and for the most part, deeply shaded. Sulphur Creek tumbles down a narrow canyon, its beautiful waterfall inaccessible to any but the most determined cross-country hiker. Farms dot the north side, and on any given day, it is possible to hear dogs barking, cows mooing, discussion between fishermen carrying across the water. It is a tranquil place, for all of being man-made, and the forested slopes along the nature trail never fail to provide me with some curiosity of nature, whether it is a snail, a fungus, a lichen or other naturalist's delight. I spent many hours on the banks with a dear friend now long gone, engaged not in the activity of catching fish, but of fishing. There is a distinct difference between the two, and you cannot call yourself a fisherman if you do not understand it.

Bolt

Day 164: I never thought of weaving as creating a bolt of fabric because when I'm making a big project like a tablecloth or coverlet, I weave it as three panels, each separated from the next by an unwoven space and hemstitched on both ends. When I began the Wall of Troy a mere two weeks ago, I decided to weave it as a single length because I had nothing in particular in mind for its eventual use. I warped 24', remembering that with my old loom, I needed to allow five feet of waste, but Max is far more efficient in that regard, and I wound up with almost 21.75' of fabric. When taking it off the loom, I rolled it into...yes, what could only be termed a bolt, just like you'd find in a fabric store. Now, I still don't know how I'll use it, other than to put it in the State Fair this year as "yardage" (minimum length required, three yards), but there it is, ready to be turned into something lovely.

They'll Grow Anywhere

Day 163: I have often said that if you hold still for very long in the Pacific Northwe't, you'll find yourself colonized by lichens. Some species can take hold in the very smallest amount of growing medium, in this case, dust and pollen which has collected on the surface of my metal garden gate. At least two species are present here, Parmelia hygrophila dominating at the junction of the two ornamental curls. I have also found the same species growing on the manufactured siding of my house where it found a toehold (rhizine-hold?) in dust trapped in the simulated wood grain. Of course, any organic material is fair game. Lichens have been found on bone, leather and old cloth, and certain species exhibit preferences for one substrate or another. Fortunately for us, they do not seem to have an agenda which includes global domination, although they appear to be fully capable of taking over the world.

Making Punis From Roving

Day 162: Having discovered the joys of spinning cotton from punis, I will never go back to my old method of tearing off little bits of roving to pre-draft (i.e., stretch out and loosen the fibers). Instead, I'm making my own punis from the roving, using a cotton carder (one with fine, straight teeth) and my best blending board technique to prepare a small batt. I cover roughly a sixth of the carder with cotton, then carefully pinch the tips of the fibers between two knitting needles and pull the fibers through the carder teeth as I roll the needles, lifting the cotton slightly as I do so. Pulling too hard or rolling too tightly compacts the puni and makes it difficult to spin. Once the material is free of the carder, the knitting needles can be pulled out and the finished puni added to the box. One I have a boxful, I will begin spinning on the charkha wheel without having to worry about prepping another batch of fiber for several hours.

Sarcoscypha Coccinea

Day 161: Sarcoscypha coccinea typically fruits in the cooler months of winter and early spring, and may be found in damp woodlands where there is an abundance of forest debris. Often, only the cup is visible through the leaf litter, but digging down will reveal its attachment to a piece of decaying wood. The lower surface of the cup is covered with fine hairs ("tomentum") and the stipe (stalk), when present, is also tomentose. Younger specimens may not exhibit a stipe. Also known as Scarlet Elf-cup, Sarcoscypha is purportedly edible but tough. Thanks, I'll just leave them there where they can serve as stoplights on elfin highways and byways. We wouldn't want traffic jams in Elfdom now, would we?

Spring Things

Day 160: Three days ago, there was no colour in the garden. It usually comes on gradually, first grape hyacinths, then narcissi, then the double daffodils. Not this year! Admittedly, only a few of each have opened, but the sudden eruption of spring things has already brightened the yard considerably. With 75-degree days this last week, it's nor surprising, although the possibility of a few snowflakes looms toward the end of the week. And that's spring in the Pacific Northwest, springing back and forth between summer and winter for the next six weeks or so until equilibrium is achieved. The signs are clear: get out the gloves, the hoe, the seed-starting trays. Check the garden store for your favourite tomatoes and bedding plants. It's time to get growing!

Usnea Longissima

Day 159: Another of my favourite lichens, Usnea longissima grows in long, unbranched strands and resembles a Christmas garland in structure. Authorities will tell you that the strands can reach ten feet in length. I have personally traced one back at least twelve feet from its broken tip, and more was hopelessly tangled in the branches of the tree where it was growing. This elegant lichen is sensitive to pollutants and can be found only in areas where the ambient air is free of them, a good sign if you're hiking for your health. As a sidebar, I must inform you that the species was placed in the rank Dolichousnea in 2004, separating it from Usnea due to subtle differences in its morphology. As much as I like to keep current with taxonomy, this one is too ingrained in memory to change. For those of you who may be curious about the etymology, "dolicho-" means "long," so the new name translates as "Long, long Usnea." At least it's accurately descriptive.

Lambs On A Loom

Day 158: There will be more botany to come, I promise, but today I wanted to share with you a little project I've been doing as an exercise as I try to improve my skill at krokbragd. The sheep are a smaller version of the ones I have shown before as turned krokbragd, and since this is regular krokbragd (as opposed to turned), the execution is a little different. In any event, the motifs can be no more than three threads wide, so creating recognizable designs can be challenging. That said, I have struggled with getting neat selvedges when weaving regular krokbragd, and recently came across some helpful hints in that regard. I also wanted to try this weft-faced weaving technique on a frame loom similar to those many of us played with in primary school, and I find it to be ideally suited to krokbragd. Weaving is done with a long needle, picking up individual warp threads manually. Since each "line" of weaving is actually made in three passes, a single "row" may contain up to three colours. I have found that it is easier to design on the loom itself than to try to graph out a pattern, owing to the unique staggered construction of the krokbragd weave. Also, by incorporating additional wraps around the outer threads once per sequence of three passes, I am now obtaining neater selvedges as well.

Schizophyllum Commune, Split-Gill Fungus

Day 157: If the peculiar "rotting lace" surface of Schizophyllum commune doesn't clue you in to its identity, you have only to turn over one of the fruiting bodies to examine the gills. Commonly called "Split-Gill Fungus," the lengthwise splits are easily visible with the naked eye, but here I have included a microscopic view (inset, right) so that you can see them more clearly. Schizophyllum commune is perhaps one of the most common fungi on the planet. In fact, it can be found on every continent with the exception of Antarctica. Although it is occasionally parasitic on living wood, it is primarily a decomposer, occurring on tree trunks and limbs already in the early stages of breaking down. This particular specimen gave me something to ponder. It was growing on a heavy Doug-fir limb, and the trees surrounding it for at least a hundred feet on all sides were Red Alder. How had that one limb come to be in their midst? No windstorm could have carried it there without damage being evident in the canopy. My sole theory is that it was brought in by a maintenance crew for bridge/trail repair, then left behind when it wasn't needed. In any event, Schizophyllum had found a happy home.

Oxalis

Day 156: This is not a shamrock, and I'm Scottish, but hey, I can wish you a happy St. Patrick's Day! This, my friends, is Oxalis oregana, not at all related to the true "shamrock" clover which makes Ireland so green. In fact, there is some debate over which Trifolium species (clover) is actually the shamrock of Ireland, Trifolium dubium or T. repens, both of which grow in profusion there. The confusion began when an English botanist claimed that Oxalis acetosella (Wood Sorrel) was the "true" shamrock back in the first half of the 19th century. Why he made the assertion is uncertain, but the myth was born in that moment. Today, we see pots of "shamrocks" in greenhouses and garden departments; some are green, some maroon, some marked with both colours, joyously perpetuating the misconception. Tell a lie often enough, and you'll find that people come to believe it. Sometimes, you may even believe it yourself, so let's set the record straight. Oxalis may have three leaves, but it's only a sham clover.

Favourite Lichens Twofer

Day 155: No hike on the South Swofford Trail is complete without stopping to admire the Menegazzia terebrata, a greenish-grey foliose lichen whose lobes are perforated, supplying its common name of "Tree Flute." It's one of my favourites, and as I think about it, I suspect that my preference for certain lichen species may be based in the sound of their names. What a mellifluous word is "Menegazzia!" I was rolling it around on my tongue as I circled each Red Alder alongside the trail, looking for the optimal specimen to photograph, rejecting those which were too dry or in too much sun, when around on the shady north face of one tree I spotted this small rosette. Then I noticed another favourite, Graphis scripta, aka Script Lichen, its short, black lirellae etched into the bark like graffiti. "It's a twofer!" I said. "It doesn't get any better than this!" Okay, I admit I'm easily amused, but the South Swofford Trail never ceased to supply me with objects of interest, no matter when I walk it, or how many times. More will be appearing in my posts over the coming days.

First Day Of Skunk Cabbage

Day 154: This is a day of great celebration! Not only is it the First Day of Skunk Cabbage, it was not necessary for me to wade out into the bog at risk of becoming permanently mired in order to get a picture of a perfect specimen. Many of my adventures on this personal holiday have left me mud up to the knees, my boots filled with swamp water, and on one notable occasion, I even fell down, landing on my back in the muck. I have not been savaged by mosquitoes as often as you might suppose, although in some years, they have been vicious. Nevertheless, this is a tradition I have been observing for decades, partly as a nod to my mother who chose Lysichiton americanus as her favourite flower, and partly because to me the plant signifies the beginning of Botany Season. There is no set date for the occasion, other than the fact that it usually occurs in March (rarely February), and is only determined by my own first observation for the year. I usually seek it out as I did today, visiting my "best bog" along the margin of Swofford Pond.

Spinning Plant Hair

Day 153: Many of my fiberarts crafts tend to be seasonal, depending on the amount of available natural light and the colour of the material with which I am working. When spinning wool on my Louët wheel, it's a simple matter to change the contrast by laying a lighter or darker piece of fabric across my knees. However, with the charkha wheel, I'm working against a backdrop of grey carpet, so at least with tan cotton fiber, I need more "window light" on the developing thread. I put the charkha away last fall, and it sat on the bookshelf for the dark months of winter. I pulled it out a few days ago, spun a few chunks of roving just to be sure I hadn't lost my touch, and then it occurred to me that making my own punis (a miniature version of the rolags familiar to wool spinners) would allow me to spin longer without having to fuss with prepping another bit of cotton. I had not spun from a puni previously because they are rarely (if ever) available in any colour other than white, and at a much higher price per ounce than dyed roving. Having worked through the many quirks of spinning with cotton told me to beware of lumps and to roll the "mini-rolags" loosely, both easy to achieve by manually loading the roving onto a 2" x 4" section of a single cotton carder. Then, with the tips of the cotton fibers pinched between two knitting needles, I rolled the batt off the carder teeth. It was much easier to do than anticipated, and in no time, I had a boxful of punis ready to be spun. After making a few tweaks to the way I handled the feed of unspun fiber, I found to my delight that spinning from punis was a huge improvement on spinning from roving. After an hour or so, I had a full tahkli spindle, ready to ply with the thread on the one I'd put away last fall.

Nut Birb

Day 152: The internet has spawned many new words, but none with quite as much personal appeal as "birb." The Reddit definition of a birb per Audubon is a bird which is "funny, cute or silly in some way." Audubon expands by adding roundness and smallness to the equation, but specifies that lacking these characteristics does not necessarily exclude a bird from birbiness. A case in point is the Shoebill, which is neither small nor round, but is nonetheless hilarious in appearance. Therefore, the ungainly, top-heavy Shoebill is a birb, although a Great Blue Heron is not. Still, some birds are birbier than others, and in this writer's opinion, the Red-breasted Nuthatch (here affectionately known as "Nut") is about as birby as they come. Round? Check. Small? Check. Funny? Absolutely. Cute? Definitely. Silly? One only has to watch them hanging upside-down to eat to see the point. On all counts, the Red-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta canadensis) is a capital-B Birb, a Nut Birb. In the interest of taxonomic clarity, I propose that the scientific name should be changed to Sitta nuxbirbia since the species is not exclusive to Canada.

Doctor What?

Day 151: I simply could not resist the impulse. I hadn't cut the colour gamp towels apart yet, and every time I looked at the heap of fabric laying on top of the cedar chest, I thought, "Gee, that looks like Tom Baker's Doctor's scarf." My version was slightly longer (24' as opposed to 21' for the real thing), but it was just as colourful. I said to myself, "I have an appropriate wig. I have an overcoat. I have a Tardis, and I assume it's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, although I've never used it. I'm going to reincarnate myself as The Doctor." We just won't mention that Tom Baker is over a foot taller than I am, and therefore the signature "scarf" had to be wrapped around my neck an additional time. You can probably guess what the follow-up will be. Yep, I have got to weave myself a real Doctor Who scarf.

Under Construction - Wall Of Troy

Day 150: Construction has commenced on the Wall of Troy. I am amazed at how much easier it is to hang a warp on Max, owing to the way he was designed. I have mentioned before that Bergman looms can be folded up for transport or storage even when fully loaded with a project. This feature also allows the weaver to remove certain pieces which otherwise interfere with accessibility. The breast beam comes out and can be laid aside, making it easier to reach the warp threads where they lie across the lease sticks, thence to pull them through the heddles. With 480 ends to work with, I figured I would spend the entire day heddling, but the process went much faster than expected, and almost before I knew it (read, "a couple of hours later"), I was ready to thread the reed. That was nearly my downfall, and brings up the one design issue I find problematic with the Bergmans: the warp roller is mounted above the warp, not below, and therefore the warp itself is in shadow. For someone whose vision is poor in low light, this makes dark-coloured threads difficult to see. I thread from the middle outward both ways. After pulling the warp through the reed, I was ready to tie onto the cloth apron, but when I started on the center section, I discovered my sequence was short by five dark brown threads. Sure enough, they were hanging loose in front of the heddles. There was no recourse but to pull that half of the warp out of the reed to be re-threaded. It went fairly quickly since I was threading two ends per dent, but by the time I was done, I was tired and almost ready for bed. After a few minutes of down-time, I decided I couldn't sleep easily until I knew if I had done everything properly. And I had! The Lego-like structure of the Wall of Troy shows up beautifully in natural across a gradient of eight warm tones.

Playing Warp Chicken

Day 149: Sooner or later, anyone who weaves a lot is going to find themselves engaged in a game of warp chicken. I think I came closer this time than ever before, and all because I was determined to squeeze five towels out of a warp I'd measured for four. Having never woven on Max before, I wasn't sure how much loom waste to allow. I knew it would be less than on my old loom for purely mechanical reasons, and Max turned out to be very efficient in that regard. The knots behind the heddles prevented me from advancing the warp another step of the large gear, and on the front, I barely had room to pass a shuttle through the shed, certainly not enough to weave the small sample I usually include in my files. But better a whole towel than a swatch! And as of a few minutes ago, I was almost finished winding on a new warp. At the very least, I will be able to get the heddles and reed threaded today, although I may not have time before bed to start his next piece (well, maybe a few throws).

Hills And Valleys

Day 148: For decades before the government ceased scrambling signals and made GPS technology available to the general public, I navigated the deep backcountry with a map and compass. I was often miles from the nearest trail, but I was never afraid of getting lost, even though as a general rule I hiked alone (i.e., at least 95% of the time). If there was a particular feature or landmark I wanted to visit, I would chart a route, noting the bearings from Point A to Point B to Point C on my map. Apart from the occasional 40' cliff lurking between 20' contour lines, it was a good system. And then came GPS. Well, if you've ever had your batteries go flat in that little hand-held unit when you were five miles in, you probably felt pretty helpless unless like me, you had that paper map and good old Suunto mirrored compass in your pack. Nowadays, high-resolution paper topographic maps have gone the way of the dinosaurs, but fortunately I have any I might need within my local range. This isn't one of them. This, dear readers, is an overlay on a rhubarb leaf. Gotcha!

Her Last Project

Day 147: I am a bit ashamed to admit that I never named this loom, and now with the red crackle-weave Scandinavian tablecloth and green centerpiece off the rollers, she is naked before me for the last time. I did not know that looms asked for names when she came into my life some twenty or so years ago, a gift from a stranger who knew me solely from having come to one of my yard sales. I brought her home in pieces, many pieces, with no clear knowledge of how they went together, but by the end of the following day and after several trips to the hardware store, she was ready for her first warp. I do not recall what I wove first on this grand old lady, but she has served me well, never empty for more than 48 hours. She has her foibles, as do we all, but nothing major, nothing to impinge on our relationship. I know I will miss her when she leaves, because soon she is slated to take up residence with a friend and his husband. I sincerely hope they amend my dereliction of duty by giving her a proper name.

Finished Placemats

Day 146: Quite a few people have asked me what I do with all the bands I weave. Admittedly, I have dozens of them rolled up and tucked away, but here is one way I put them to use. I wove the placemats as an afterthought when I had wound more warp than I needed for the primary project, but to me, they looked unfinished. I decided to weave a band in matching colours to apply as a border around the edges. I turned the raw ends to lie beneath the band, stitched down the outer edges, then mitred the corners and stitched along the inner margin of the band. I'm not a fan of machine sewing (although I like to sew by hand), so it took me a while to get around to applying the edgings. I like they way they turned out enough that I might make more with the same variegated weft. I accidentally doubled the length of the band when I put it on the loom, so I have enough left over to make another pair.

Usnea Pacificana

Day 145: Far be it from me to miss an opportunity which literally falls from above, so when the combination of wind and snow dropped a long, heavy fir branch in my yard, I simply had to check it for lichens. I was hoping for Kidneys, but no such luck. I settled instead for a chance to improve my skills at identifying Usneas. I made a little checklist, and if you flinch at my flood of weaving terminology, you should probably quit right here, because we're diving into a whole 'nother language which includes isidia, soralia, medulla, cortex, axis, fibrils, papillae, foveation, annular rings and stereomes. With a hand lens trained on a rather dry specimen, I marked off presence/absence, colour, shape and UV reaction until I had narrowed the field down to two: pacificana and subfloridana. Although I would have preferred to have a fully hydrated subject in hand, the ratio of thickness between cortex, medulla and axis suggested Usnea pacificana. As always, I reserve the right to be wrong, because both species are common in western Washington at this elevation.

Engineering The Walls Of Troy - Gradient

Day 144: Behind any engineering project, there are plans and blueprints, and in this instance, a full two miles of 8/2 cotton have been laid out on an 8-fold gradient to be employed in construction of the Walls of Troy. That's the name of the draft I'll be using for this piece. It will be Max's next job, building a 24-foot Wall with a mortar (weft) of natural, weaving a tortuous path through the coloured warp. It's a simple repeat and doesn't require the strict attention to measurement like the designs with distinct motifs I've been working lately. It'll be a nice break from that keen focus on detail which has governed my most recent weavings. There are 482 threads in the pattern, 60 of each colour plus a natural floating selvedge thread on each side and, in the name of science, I'll be using a closer sett this time around at 20 ends per inch to see if that's Max's "sweet spot" for a balanced weave with this particular fiber. I have one towel left to go, but I always like to have a "warp in waiting."

Hexed

Day 143: I'm going to put a hex on tablet weaving! After a less than successful attempt to make my own hexagonal cards (or rather, to put holes in the corners), I decided I was going to have to buy them. The problem was that the only ones I could find were either wooden (too thick), expensive or would ship from Lithuania. I was complaining about the situation to Ed, my weaving friend, and he responded almost immediately. "What about these?" Well, what do you know? An Etsy seller had restocked the ones I'd seen another weaver using, and was offering two different designs. As much as I liked the brighter geometrics, the Victorian flower designs on these convinced me to go with the pastels. There aren't many patterns out there for six-sided card weaving, but I have one of bees which is very cute. As if I wasn't already up to my eyeballs in weaving projects! But it's something new to learn, and that's always exciting.

Adventurous Eating

Day 142: One of the tenets I hold is that life is too short not to try new foods. I have eaten some very strange things over the years, including deep-fried caterpillar larvae, chocolate covered ants, properly prepared snails and (when I was very young and didn't know any better) fresh angleworms. I'm still alive to tell the tale, and in fact, I found the caterpillar larvae quite good. Other items have gone on my "Never Again" list: brains, tripe, Rocky Mountain Oysters, to name a few. Most of you know that I like haggis, that traditional Scottish dish comprised largely of sheep organ meats, and also lutefisk. I figured it was time to try Mexican-style chorizo. I suspect most of you will stop reading the ingredients after the first entry and may even be racing for the porcelain throne, but it's actually rather tasty. I've mixed mine with refried beans to make burritos which I'll top with guacamole. I may decide not to repeat the experiment, but other things have taken me multiple tries before my taste buds were completely educated to the flavour, so I'm not ruling it out just yet.

Comparative Working Distance

Day 141: Someone asked how Max's effective working distance compared to my old loom, so this morning, I did a test. I knew Max gave me more space, but I wasn't sure how much, although I did feel that it was a little bit more than my repaired shoulder could handle easily. Still, in the name of science, I thought (with a snicker) that I could "take it to the max" just this once. Normally, I wouldn't have pushed quite so far. As you can see, Max could feasibly give me ten inches before I had to advance the warp as compared to six inches on the old loom, but I am more comfortable with nine inches. Even at that, it represents substantially fewer times that I have to get up from the bench. And yes, I have to get up. My arms aren't long enough to control the brake and the roller at the same time.

Higher Mathematics

Day 140: Some technical explanations are in order here, but I will spare you the higher mathematics which woke me at 3 AM and kept me occupied until I finally relented and got out of bed. First, looms like my old one form sheds in one of two ways: they are either rising-shed, in which one layer of threads is raised as the other remains horizonal, or sinking-shed, in which one layer remains horizontal as the other is lowered. On the other hand, with a countermarch loom like Max, the shed opens in the middle, one layer rising as the other sinks simultaneously. Why does this matter? In both rising-shed and sinking-shed operation, there is a certain amount of friction and resistance on the weft as it is beaten into place. On a countermarch loom, it has a clear path and requires very little force by comparison. I simply bring the beater back, and the shed accepts the weft with no particular energy expenditure on my part. Owing to this bit of mechanics, the weft beats tighter, requiring more throws to achieve an inch of cloth. For Max's first piece, I warped for my default sett of 15-16 ends per inch (i.e., across the width of the fabric). However, 16 throws yields only 5/8" of cloth, as opposed to being balanced (16 epi:16 throws) on my old loom when using this fiber. In order to achieve a balanced weave with the same number of ends and throws per inch on Max, I need to make some adjustments. I promised to spare you the math, so just suffice to say that I think warping at 20 epi will bring the weave into balance, or as they say, "close enough for gov'mint work." This is particularly important when square motifs are desirable as they are in most overshot. As for Max's operation, he is an absolute dream! I knew that a countermarch loom would be quieter, but I had not expected the actual weaving to go any faster or to require less effort. In fact, I find myself referring to Max as "gentle" as our relationship develops. I needed that.