In Front of Yew

Day 19: In the thirty-plus years I've lived here, my English yew hedge has only produced berries half a dozen times or so, and always just a few...or so I thought. Sometimes, it pays to look in front of Yew. I don't know why, but this morning I was inspired to walk around to the roadward side and...well, it kinda looked like Christmas. Admittedly, there's only one female in the entire line of shrubbery which forms my hedge, but it was "berrying" like crazy. Yew berries are poisonous, and the oils in the bark and needles can cause skin irritation or other allergic reactions. Birds don't eat the fruit, but one year, a robin nested deep in the heart of the hedge. I've given up trying to keep the yews pruned back. The hedge is ten feet tall and almost as wide at this point.

Gold Leaf

Day 18: If Washington is girt with greens in spring with shades so numerous that thousands have no names, so too is the state gilt with golds in autumn. Warm and cool, dappled with rose and russet, they wait to be studded with silver raindrops to show their greatest glory. The hostas have met with first frost, changing almost overnight, but no less beautiful in their imminent collapse. And if autumn chills my feet, it also warms my heart, knowing that the Earth and Nature are ready for a bedtime story. It is time to rest, renew, reset, there to dream of warmer days and longer light.

Not A Clue!

Day 17: Whatever they are, there are a lot of them growing on the decaying hawthorn stump alongside my prized bioluminescent Carbon Antlers. Something has nibbled the tops of a few caps (mouse, I suspect) and may now be regretting that it failed to heed the most essential advice for mushroomers: "Unless you are 110% sure of the identification, do not eat it." And further, just because another mammal can consume a certain mushroom, it does not necessarily follow that it is safe for a human to eat. Different critters' digestive systems contain different enzymes and can process alkaloids which might be poisonous to a human. For example, deer and elk eat several Amanita species which can cause long-term damage to human livers and kidneys. Some might say that I am over-cautious when it comes to 'shrooms. I remind them that there is a good reason one mycological society referred to its annual dinner as the "Survivors' Banquet."

Good Ol' Brownies

Day 16: Today is National Chocolate Day. Coincidentally, it's also National First Responders Day. Therefore, I went with my first response and made good ol' cake brownies out of the red-and-white Better Homes and Gardens cookbook which has been my companion since...good grief, really?...1966. It was the first cookbook in my kitchen as I set up housekeeping on my own at a time when I barely knew how to boil water. I graduated from the "Cookies" section to the "Bread" section within a year, and the rest is history. I've never been one for exploring recipes for main dishes, but carbs? Give me a sack of flour, a little sugar, a couple of eggs some butter, and a cupboard stocked with additives like baking soda/powder, yeast, vanilla, and I'm a happy camper. And oddly, there was a time when I didn't care for chocolate. My, how times change!

Joyful Unwinds

Day 15: My Adeniums were getting too leggy, so it was with great trepidation that I decided to prune one back in the hopes that it would sprout a new "head." Typically, the showy, large-flowered Adeniums sold by nurseries are grafted plants, hybrid stems grafted onto sturdier rootstock, much like what is done with fruit trees. I was careful not to take it back as far as the graft (pretty obvious, really), and then sat back to see if my experiment was going to be successful before jumping in to prune all the plants. I covered the cut with candle wax to ensure against rot or disease, and was heartened when six months later, a tiny leaf bud appeared just below the waxed tip. Leaves developed over the next several months, and then when the plant's blooming time arrived, it put out a few buds. Emboldened by my success, I pruned the other two plants, one "head" at a time over the seasons. Now all my Adeniums are under a foot tall, and each stem has its "Tina Turner" hairdo of leaves at the top of otherwise bare sticks, and all have bloomed again. "Joyful" is unwinding its pink minaret even as I write.

Sheeting Rain

Day 14: That's the view from here. Western Washington is swimming in its first atmospheric river of the season, with something close to an inch having fallen in the last 24 hours at my house. I suppose I should be thankful I don't live in Jamaica, because they're expected to get 30-50 inches of rain over the next two or three days, courtesy of Hurricane Melissa. Melissa is exhibiting behaviours not seen in a hurricane for at least a century, according to one source, and it is guaranteed to bring catastrophic flooding and landslides to the island. On this end, though, I'm dealing with the "first-world problem" of not having adequate heat, and I'm getting no action from any of the companies I've contacted with respect to getting hard copies of estimates to submit to the PUD in the hopes of qualifying for a low-income grant. In fact, I have not even received the application forms from the PUD, and it's been almost a week since I requested them. Meanwhile, I'm using a wall heater which is barely up to the task of keeping the living room warm. But unlike the unfortunate residents of Jamaica, I can put on another layer of fleece, grab and blanket and a cat, and a cup of hot tea. At least I still have power (she says, knocking firmly on wood).

Birdseed Loaf

Day 13: By its very nature, my "Birdseed Bread" is more dense than sourdough or white bread, being comprised partly of millet flour. It has a lightly nutty flavour which I sometimes enhance with the addition of golden flaxseed meal and/or flaxseeds. Experimenting with the formula to create a Dutch-oven version, I substituted 50 grams of millet flour for bread flour in a no-knead, 70% hydration recipe which called for 500 grams total, and added 8 grams of gluten because millet flour has none. Baked in my new loaf-shaped, lidded cast-iron bread pan, it came out perfectly, cancelling any plans I had for increasing the amount of millet flour in the future. Slathered with real butter, this bread is almost a meal in itself. It also makes excellent French toast.

Although I used parchment paper here, I invested a whopping six dollars in a pair of silicone bread pan liners to help me get rather wet and oozy doughs into the pan. I'll try them out in my next experiment, but that may be a ways down the road because I now have three loaves of bread in my freezer, and I have got to make space for a Thanksgiving turkey.

Backed, Batted and Pinned

Day 12: With only two "units" left to make and sew into the "Ring Cycles" quilt, I decided it was time to address one which has been in the queue for some time. I only recently re-discovered it sitting lone and lorn in the bottom of a box of fabrics, still in unjoined blocks, so I sewed them together, made an epic journey to Ben Franklin to get backing, and the parts have been sitting on top of the dryer ever since. Y'see, I have way more Help than I need, so I had to find time when Merry had to be confined in the bathroom so that I could spread it out on the living room floor. The heat pump issue provided the opportunity, what with a repairman coming and going (but not fixing). I stretched the backing fabric, weighting the corners with dictionaries and field guides, then spread the batting out over it and made sure everything was smooth and square. Then I laid the quilt on top of that and set to pinning the layers together. It didn't take as long as I'd expected (I'm using a new type of batting which is more cooperative), and now the "Autumn Quilt" (aka the "Orange Quilt") is ready to go on the frame. Time to get this one done, done, done! Some of the fabrics in it were purchased forty years ago!

Beware: Mad Scientist

Day 11: The flask are filled, the beakers bubbling, the retorts rumbling, and the Grand Experiment is under way. Can I successfully adapt my "birdseed bread" recipe to make a high-hydration Dutch oven loaf? If there are 12-24 grams of gluten in every 100 grams of bread flour and I want to substitute 50 grams of millet flour for the same amount of bread flour, I will need to add 6-8 grams of gluten, i.e., in my 500-gram loaf, I will want to use 450 grams of bread flour, 50 grams of millet flour and 6-8 grams of gluten (close enough for gov'mint work). That's where I'll begin. If the bread rises properly, I will try increasing the millet flour next time. Dough goes down for 18 hours. If it's nice and bubbly in the morning, I should have an update for you by 9 AM.

By Any Other Name

Day 10: Puttering around on YouTube, I kept seeing references to "slow stitching," and found myself wondering what the heck it meant. Well, you know what they say about roses and "any other name." Turns out it's nothing more than HAND-SEWING, for pity's sake, but there is a twist on it called "stitch meditation" which appealed to me. Basically, that means doing whatever you want with whatever you have, and having fun while doing it. Odd bits get sewn together...that last tiny little piece of quilt fabric you wish you'd bought more of, tails of embroidery floss long enough to make five French knots, a three-inch piece of bias tape or leftover bandweaving...put 'em together and what have you got? A slow-stitching meditation piece which can be scrolled around an old spool, a dowel, a stick, a dolly clothespin, and then unrolled when you feel like you need a walk down Memory Lane. One variation on the "meditation" particularly appealed to me: the names of all the wildflowers the artist had seen in an area where she was vacationing. I said to self, "All the plants I've photographed for the Burke Herbarium! Yes!" In the end, it will be wound around a vintage narrow-waisted wooden sewing thread spool I've been hanging onto for at least forty years. The fabric is a 32-count cotton, dyed (by me) with tea and a few bits of Lobster fungus to warm the tone. Y'see, I'm coming to the end of the Ring Cycles quilt. Okay, I still have to quilt it, but I needed something to work on in my lap, not sitting up board-rigid at the quilting frame. With each flower name I stitch in, I'm remembering where I saw it, who I was with, what the weather was like, and in many cases, the excitement of finding an oddity, a rarity, even a previously unrecorded weed.

Any Excuse

Day 9: I really never need an excuse to make bread, but since the recipe which came with my new "Dutch oven" style loaf pan suggested an 80% hydration dough, my scientific curiosity pushed me forward in an experiment. My regular sourdough is roughly 60% hydration (560g flour to 330g water, counting the poolish), so I realized this white bread was going to be a much wetter mix and harder to get in the pan. How would it turn out? Well, there was only one way to find out. The recipe starts yesterday. Combine 450g bread flour with 360ml water, 1/2 tsp. dry yeast and 1.5 tsp salt into a wet, shaggy dough (I use my bagel-twizzling stick to stir mine...wooden spoon handle works well, too). Cover it and let it proof in a warm place for 12-18 hours until it's nice and bubbly. Pour it out onto a floured surface, try to shape it into something remotely resembling a loaf (I did tell you it's a very wet dough), cover and let rise for an hour. Halfway into that hour, start preheating the pan and lid in an oven set to 450 degrees. When the full hour is up, make a slit down the center of the loaf to release steam, coerce it into the pan (I lined my pan with parchment), put the lid on and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the lid, bake for an additional 15 minutes. And this is what you get: a lovely high loaf with a crisp thin crust and a light, airy texture perfect for sandwiches or toast.

Fall Colours

Day 8: It's not a spectacular year for colour here in the mountains. Reds and oranges aren't as vivid as they might be, and yellows lack something in enthusiasm as well. Nevertheless, these little spots of beauty draw the eye and brighten the landscape in one last grand performance before the greys and browns of winter take the stage. My vining hydrangea (left) has fully recovered from an unfortunate encounter with a lawn mower a few years ago, and now covers its trellis on the garage wall, in full view from the kitchen window. The vine maples at the edge of the yard (middle) and across the street are blushing, and even compete with their larger Big-leaf cousin (right) for Best of Show. Nature schools us in the beauty of diversity, if only we will heed her lesson and open our eyes to the wonder of it.

A Proper Loaf

Day 7: As much as I prefer the convenience and end-product quality in baking bread in a Dutch oven, it has had one drawback: it's hard to cut a round or oval loaf into same-size pieces for your breakfast toast. I was bemoaning the fact that I had never seen a loaf-shaped Dutch oven to my weaving friend Ed, whereupon he sent me a photo of one which put me on a new search. And I found scores of them! After several hours of comparison shopping I opted for an enameled one (lidded) which weighs almost 10 pounds, and this morning, I turned out my first loaf of sourdough after having adjusted my customary recipe to make it just a little smaller. In hindsight, I think I could have used the full recipe, but I like the height of this loaf. The sides got a little wrinkled as I dropped it into the pre-heated Dutch oven because my banneton is just a little too long and wide for a 9" x 5" pan.

No Kings, Yelm WA

Day 6: I make no secret of the fact that I am anti-Cheeto, but I do try to keep politics out of my posts for the most part because that seems to be all anyone talks about these days. That, and I find refuge in needlearts and science, so my posts are something of an escape for me as well. That said, I attended a "No Kings" protest in June in Eatonville, and today I went to a second one in Yelm since there weren't any closer (or at least not that were advertised). We had a good turnout, by my estimation between 200-300 people. There were a few MAGAts who tried their best to stir up trouble, including one who went around taking phone photos of everyone, claiming to be doing so at the behest of the government. He boasted that he was getting paid to do so, and intended to post them on Facebook in order to have as many people identified as possible. Was it true? I rather doubt it. I think he was simply trying to frighten people away. For the most part, our signs were met with supportive honks as people passed through the busy main intersection. Again, there were a few cars bearing folks from the other side who gave us the finger as they went past. We had some inflatable protesters, too. The cat was my favourite, of course. I will say I had a rather chilling moment when I realized one of the MAGAts was following me as I left to return to my car via a circuitous route. I dodged and wove, and pretended to return to the corner where I had been standing, and finally, he lost interest. The "situational awareness" training I've had through the Park paid off. I'm not brave and I'm not strong, but I am canny. Even so, I'm glad I went. It's good to see so many like-minded people standing up against this regime.

Four Units Remaining

Day 5: For this purpose, a "unit" refers to a central white hexagon surrounded by six 9-patches and six fill-in triangles. I have four units to go (up the left side), and the Ring Cycles quilt top will be done! Of course, that leaves the backing, batting and quilting to do, but that's a whole 'nother story. There have been a few rare days when fulfilling my quota of stitching has felt like pulling teeth. On others, I've gotten ahead of schedule because I was enjoying the process. Persistence pays in the end, and as my grandmother used to remind me, her lessons were not so much in the needlearts as they were in patience. I have not yet decided whether I will put Ring Cycles or the orange Dresden Plate on the quilting frame first. In either case, the long work is yet to come.

Easier To Spot

Day 4: There are only about a dozen and a half kiwi berries left on the vine now, and with most of the leaves having fallen, they're easier to spot. All things considered, I've had a good harvest this year. Almost every day for the last two weeks, I've been able to snack on anything from 3-4 up to about 20, and all but one from the "Anna vine." With judicious pruning, I may be able to train branches of the male "Clark" into "Issai" in the hopes of better pollination. "Issai" made a single, significantly larger berry. The garden has been good to me this year, what with 32 figs, a ton of blueberries on the foot-tall "Jelly Bean" bush, so many raspberries that I've been inviting guests to eat them because the freezer is full, and of course enough gooseberries for a batch of jam. A chipmunk helped itself to the last couple of Akebia fruits and a few low-hanging kiwis before acquainting itself with the interior of my larger Havahart trap. I'm still jealous of people who can grow veg, but in the fruit department, I'm doin' okay.

Xylaria Hypoxylon, Carbon Antlers

Day 3: First of all, conditions have to be perfect for Xylaria hypoxylon to bioluminesce. It can't be too warm or too cold. The humidity has to be just right. And above all, it has to be dark if you want to see it happen. If everything is just Goldilocks-right, a light tap of Carbon Antlers with a small stick or a finger will produce a tiny and brief dot of blue light, or at least that's my experience with the group which fruits on an old hawthorn stump in my back yard. I've only witnessed it a few times (the first, entirely and surprisingly by accident), and have never been able to capture the fairy-lantern will-o'-the-wisp blink with the camera. Despite that, it pleases me to know that I have a bioluminescent fungus so close at hand.

Perfecting the Technique

Day 2: I have said it many times: the internet is the world's largest source of MISinformation, and with that lead-in, I'm going to tell you how I arrived at the perfect artichoke. To begin, I have always made artichokes in a pressure cooker, 15 pounds pressure for 20 minutes, but my 50-year old pressure cooker needed a new gasket, and because it was so old and the gaskets so hard to find, it would have almost been cheaper to buy a new pressure cooker. Instead, I fell for the sucker-bait and bought an InstaPot. Then I started looking for how to cook artichokes in it. Almost every recipe I found said, "Cook for 5 minutes, and vent naturally," so I tried that. What I got was a warm, raw artichoke. The InstaPot and I had a few arguments about being re-started, but eventually I won and gave the artichoke another 10 minutes, thinking that surely, that would be long enough, given the slow cool-down in addition to the cooking time. Nope. Artichoke was too tough to scrape the "goodie" off the leaves with my teeth. Back in the IP it went, for another 10 minutes plus cool-down. And then it was edible. It had taken me roughly an hour and a quarter to cook one damn artichoke.

Understand something: I'm not knocking InstaPot. It's good for a lot of things, quinoa for one. But to my way of thinking at that particular moment, it was absolutely worthless for artichokes. The next time I wanted to make one, I dragged out the pressure cooker, soaked the stiff old gasket in warm water to soften it, but that was no help. It never sealed. My artichoke got cooked, but of course it took longer, and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of having a bad gasket holding even a small amount of pressure. I decided to give the InstaPot another go, using a method which seemed more logical to me. Originally, I'd put it on "steam," but I saw that it had a "pressure cook" setting. I set the pressure to "high," cooked the artichokes for 30 minutes (based on prior experience), and let the pot vent naturally (roughly another 15 minutes). And y'know what? I got good artichokes. Took substantially longer, but they were cooked properly. Satisfied that I'd won the argument at last, I went out and bought myself a new pressure cooker.

Us

Day 1: With my blog entering its 16th year of daily publication, it seemed appropriate to "go personal" today, so in order of precedence, here's the whole family, all of it, complete and total. It ain't much, but it's rich in love, and that's what matters. The Center of the Universe had no intention of waking up the rest of the way, nor was he any too happy with flash photography which, in all honestly, isn't on my list of favourite shooting modes either. As for the coming year, I'm going to do my best to keep up the regular posting schedule, but at this point, I make no guarantees. I don't get out nearly as much as I used to, a matter which Merry thinks is a better arrangement anyway. Time spent with loved ones is a precious commodity, and generally, we don't understand its true value until we're in our later years.

Some Like It Cold

Day 365: Some like it hot. Some like it cold. I am in the first category, grateful that the installation of the replacement water heater went smoothly. However, my little avian friends seem to have been waiting for it to get chilly enough for a refreshing bath. This morning, the puddles were full of robins, juncoes and the occasional Song Sparrow (above), splish-splashing to their little hearts' content with the temperature hovering at 40 degrees. Yes, they've probably been waiting all summer for water sufficiently deep for their ablutions, but dang, guys! Can't you wait for a warmer day? The universal turnout always seems to come when there's a nip in the air, and with a bird's body temperature being 112 degrees, that's got to feel a lot colder to them than it does to us at 98.6. Birds! The originators of the "Polar Plunge," brave little creatures that they are.

The Pretty-Kitty Box

Day 364: I cannot explain why this is "the Pretty-Kitty Box," but there you have it. It's akin to "your little weaver's box" in the Loom Room, and yes, he knows the difference. Y'see, the thing is, Merry never wants me out of his sight unless he has something importantly cattish to do on his own. Then I'm just furniture, but let me go into the bedroom or bathroom or kitchen without explaining that "I'll be right back, baby!" and he follows me. "Follows" isn't even an adequate word. He stops whatever he's doing, even if it's being half-asleep, and TROTS after me to be sure he doesn't miss any of the action.

A friend sent me a YouTube video about Russian Blues. "Very smart," it claimed, and to that I can most assuredly attest. "Calm companion," it also said. I wrote back to Patty and remarked, "They shoulda been here last night. I was peeling him off the walls." Honestly, I think "calm" comes with maturity, and after all, Merry is still a little babycat at 18 months old and 17 very bouncy pounds. In those rare "calm" moments, snuggled in my arms under the covers or on my lap in the chair, he fits the profile of a textbook Blue, great rumbling purr rattling the rafters. When he goes after his toys in the bathtub (one of his favourite places to bat them around), you'd think there was an 8.5 earthquake going on.

Blah But Beautiful

Day 363: Blah Coral (Ramaria acrisiccescens) is no mushroom hunter's idea of a prize, not by a long shot. The common name tells you all you need to know about its desirability as a foodstuff. Nevertheless, the corals present (in my opinion) one of the most photogenic growth structures in the fungal kingdom. They are out in abundance presently, poking their spires up through moss and leaves, giving the forest a brush of sea-floor artistry and making one wonder if the dryads have "gone mermaid" for a season. So much forest life depends on fungus. In the macroscopic view, animals and insects consume them, and they aid the decomposition process. From the microscopic point, vast swaths of mycorrhizae extend beneath the soil surface, breaking down materials into forms which can be utilized by plants of all sorts. Some plants (the mycoheterotrophs) cannot exist without a fungal partner. Blah Coral may not have any gustatory appeal, but it and its fungal kin are vital to the health of the forest.

Serious Warp Chicken, Rigid Heddle Style

Day 362: I have played Warp Chicken on rigid heddle before, but never quite as narrowly as this. I did manage to get the full 280 throws on my last placemat, but it measures a full inch and then some shorter than the other five because I was overcompensating with the beat. Still, having the same number of throws as the others will go a long way in how it fulls in the wash. I've used the counted-throw method before, and after fulling, the difference in lengths was negligible even though it had been very noticeable in the raw. Now both rigid heddle looms are standing empty, as is my table loom. I'd like to start a new project, but what I want to make has to (HAS TO!) go on the floor loom, and that's currently occupied with a rather boring project. I've created a dilemma for myself!

Textbook Specimen

Day 361: During our mushroom foray yesterday, I showed Ed a few of the other species I can recognize easily, and elaborated on what field identification points I was using to make my determination. He is anxious to learn about mushrooms, so of course the first lesson I gave was this: "Never eat a mushroom if you're not 110% sure of your identification." There were a lot of unknowns along the trail, but also Russulas of different colours and good ol' Lobsters, which gave me the opportunity to explain why I don't eat them; to wit, Lobster is a fungal overgrowth which largely occurs on Russulas, and you don't know which Russula may lie beneath the Lobster's bright orange coating. Some Russulas can cause severe gastric distress, so I avoid Lobster entirely. Then as we walked along, we suddenly came into a patch some 50' in diameter which was heavily populated with huge Amanita muscarias, some with flattened caps as large as dinner plates. They were the only ones we'd seen on the entire hike, and included this textbook-perfect specimen. I took the opportunity to expand Ed's education on field points, but also to explain that some mushroom toxins (particularly amanitotoxins) linger forever in the liver, continuing to damage the organ beyond the toxins' immediate effects. That said, there is no 'shroom so photogenic as this species, so I hunt them every year...with my camera.

Ed Goes Mushrooming

Day 360: My weaving friend Ed came up for a visit, and suggested that we could go for a hike today. I had several options to suggest, and after we'd narrowed it down to three, I said, "Okay, would you rather go for a longer hike or go mushrooming?" but then it occurred to me that we could do both fairly easily. We started with the longer walk, picking up a few chanterelles on the way. I led him down a spur on the way back to the car, thinking (as I had done with Arnie in the same area) that we could connect with another trail to take us back to parking. We were talking as we walked, and went right past the short leg where we should have turned, kept going for another mile or so until agreeing that turning back might be preferable to going on. A two-mile plan morphed into a 4-5 mile actuality, but at least we had a good start on mushrooms in the "perhaps bag." It was a good thing we'd found them there, because the second spot only yielded up about half a dozen more, although what we'd gathered was plenty to make a good lunchtime soup for both of us. It was Ed's first mushrooming experience, and a delightful day all around.

Which Of These...?

Day 359: Which of these objects is unlike the others? Or more to the point, why is it different? I was not expecting to find a 1" diameter berry on my hardy kiwis when I went out to pick a snack yesterday, but now that the leaves are beginning to fall, it's easier to see the fruit. Yes, I'm still learning the Art of the Kiwi, and have discovered that the berries come readily off the vine when they're ripe, even dropping to the ground of their own accord. Last year, I figured out that they don't really start to ripen until the leaves begin changing colour. This year, I noticed that the stems of the fruit start to wither and turn brown to signal their readiness for picking. But what happened here? Where did the big berry come from? You may recall that I originally planted two "Issai" vines, purportedly self-fertile, but not very interested in doing their job. Consequently, I planted a male/female pair of "Clark" and "Anna" so that I would at least stand some small chance of getting fruit, and hoping that "Clark" might also fertilize "Issai." I think it did. I think this one larger fruit is from "Issai." Okay, time for a re-think. I will abandon my plans to remove "Issai" and will see if I can encourage a leg of "Clark" to intertwine with it. And I'm wondering if, as more leaves drop, I might find a few more "Issai" bonuses.

The Renowned Joe Stick

Day 358: When my friend Rob and his dad were here visiting from New Zealand in late June, it was only natural for them to request a grand tour of my yard. I hadn't expected it would come immediately after they got settled in, but it did. I showed them the Berry Pen, the Barren Wasteland, the contorted filbert, the fig tree, etc. and so forth and, thinking I'd covered all the bases, led them around to go in the front door. Rob surprised me by saying, "I want to see the Joe Stick." I burst out laughing, amazed that he even remembered my posts about Chlorociboria aeruginascens, the tiny aqua-blue fungus my botany partners had gifted to me several years before. "It's JUNE, Rob!" I replied. "It probably won't even be visible as a blue smear. It fruits in autumn." But I obligingly parted the hosta leaves, dug down beneath the ferns and extracted the Stick. It had just a few discs showing which satisfied Rob's curiosity. With that in mind, this post is for him. The Stick is not yet in its full glory, but I am happy to report that this unusual fungus is still performing quite well in my Garden of Botanical Curiosities.

Gobble-gobble!

Day 357: Dealing with a plumbing issue was not the way I really wanted to spend today. I would have much preferred standing at the window to watch the robins, starlings and a solitary Northern Flicker take their fill of mountain-ash berries. The Flicker was something of a surprise. I've never seen one eat mountain-ash fruit before, although they are a fruit-eating species. The robins, on the other hand, always come to the table, often as not cleaning up every scrap, leaving nothing for the Cedar Waxwings, should any happen to appear. It's been some years since I've seen them. Yes, watching the birds gobble-gobble would have been much preferable to buying a new water heater, but the Fates had other plans for me. Knock wood, I'll spend tomorrow watching birds.

Norse Kitchen

Day 356: For all of Norse Kitchen having been a "bucket list" project for me (the one draft from "A Handweaver's Pattern Book" I most wanted to weave), I got distracted from it by quilting and other fiberarts. My weaving friend Ed said he'd like to come up from Oregon for a visit, and I thought, "Damn, I really wish I had that thing off the loom!" I've spent the last three days finishing up the runner. Done! The two towels (lavender and dark blue) measure in the raw at 31.5" x 20", and the runner (teal) is 51" x 20". I am expecting the towels to shrink to roughly 27" x 17", and the runner to 46" x 17" after a thorough wash-and-dry. It's hard to believe that this is a four-shaft design, and trust me, the draft was difficult to decipher. As Marguerite Davison had written the repeats, it was hard to tell what went where. I eventually wrote out all 495 threads in Fiberworks and taped a printout together so I could check off each section as I threaded it. Yes, this one requires very meticulous attention while threading! The treadling is less confusing, but this is not a pattern you can work on while your mind is on anything else. I wove it on my table loom which meant that I was working standing up at the desk which serves as my workbench. Merry nearly always occupied the chair which was tucked into the knee-hole, and every now and then, a little soft, grey hand would reach up from underneath to let me know I'd been weaving long enough for one session. If I failed to respond appropriately, a light nip on my leg would remind me where the true Center of the Universe is situated. I probably won't reload the table loom until I'm closer to the end of the warp on the floor loom. I need to get that piece done because I need the extra width to weave a winter ruana.

Update: Got a little more shrinkage in the length than I anticipated. Towels are 24", runner 41". Width came in exactly at 17" as predicted. Fibers were 10/2 cotton for warp and tabby, 8/2 for overshot thread. 

Teneriffe Medallions

Day 355: Teneriffe lace is constructed with two basic stitches: knots and darning. Knots can create a foundation (web) or be a design element in and of themselves. Darning is simply weaving over and under, but can be done in a variety of ways to form bars, wheels and other types of embellishment. Many of the "stitches" are common to hardanger, Dorset buttons and pulled-thread work, a point which people new to the craft should keep in mind because comprehensive books specifically devoted to Teneriffe are scarce as hen's-teeth. The best is Alexandra Stillwell's "The Technique of Teneriffe Lace," long out of print and while not hard to find, generally rather overpriced. But if you think books are hard to find, equipment for working this type of free-standing lace is even more difficult to locate. The good news is that it can be done effectively over a piece of cardboard with a straight needle, although it's preferable to work it on a cushion with a bent-tip huck/Teneriffe needle to help prevent splitting threads.

Goosed!

Day 354: The thought of a Thanksgiving turkey gave me just the goose I needed to start making space in my freezer. Goose? As in, "thaw this year's gooseberries and make jam!" The bushes only produced five cups of berries this year because I'd pruned them radically at the end of the 2024 season, but that was enough to make 8 half-pints and one quarter-pint of jam, with a bit left over. I've not been canning much this year. In fact, the last batch of jam I made was in February, and that was the 2024 gooseberry crop. I only have two jars from that session left, but when I went to put these away, I found another row of the 2022 batch hiding behind cranberry-orange marmalade. 2022 is still good (jam keeps well), but I'll eat it up first before getting started on these. That's my two favourites: gooseberry in the #1 spot, cranberry-orange marmalade in #2. Both of them are a lot of work, gooseberry in picking season because each berry has to be topped, tailed and cut in two before freezing, while cranberry-orange marmalade requires a lot of prep work on canning day. Still, those aren't things you're going to find in any store and, in my opinion, are well worth the extra work for as good as they are.