Same Threading As Overshot

Day 80: When I put this initial warp on Daisy, I was planning to make two identical towels in a Finnish Twill, using a darker blue for the weft (inset, top right). I liked the way it turned out, but as I was doing the hemstitching on the nether end, my mind was working on possible variations. For the next towel, I alternated with bands of plain weave in blue changing to white for a twill section (inset, top left). When I finished that towel, I saw that I had quite a bit of warp left, and a thought was growing in the back of my mind. What if I wove it as an overshot, repeating each pattern throw twice? What's the worst that can happen? I'd have to pick it back, and that's easy enough to do. After weaving about a third of a repeat, I knew I was going to like it. What you see here is the same treadling as the narrow white band, except that each pattern throw is repeated, with tabby between...the "extended version," if you will. As experiments go, this one was a smashing success.

Lenticulars and Snow

Day 79: The Mountain is once again clad in white, the rugged, stony spines of ridges and outcrops now hidden from view. For the last several years, each summer has exposed more of the bare bones as glaciers not only recede but become thinner. It does my heart good to see snow covering naked rock now, although I know that even a record snowfall would not build the glaciers back to their former status. Glacier-building is a long process, not something which can occur to any great extent in a single season. Lenticular clouds such as these approaching the Mountain from the south often presage a change in the weather, although in this case, it was not immediately to come. The photo was taken yesterday. This morning, the sky is clear, save for a few barely discernible wisps of high-altitude cloud.

Autumn Oranges, Quilting Done!

Day 78: This is a "for the record" post. I finished the quilting of "Autumn Oranges" this morning despite multiple interruptions. I began this phase of its journey on November 7 as close as I can tell, meaning that I completed the hand-stitching in just under 8 weeks. There's a reason ladies used to get together for quilting bees, half a dozen women working side-by-side on a single quilt. Nobody in their right mind would try to stitch a whole quilt by themselves. This year alone, I've made two fully hand-stitched quilts, plus a hand-stitched (EPP) quilt top (not yet backed and batted), as well as finishing up this one. I still have to apply the binding, machine-stitching it to the front, but hand-sewing it on the back. That should take 7-10 days. For now, the quilting frame has gone back into the closet until such time as I can make a run to Ben Franklin after something to back it with. Meanwhile, I'll be working on "Memory Wreath," another EPP quilt (i.e., fully hand-sewn, but smaller).

Two Shuttle Adventure

Day 77: A couple of days ago, I told Ed, "It feels like I've known Daisy all my life, and we've just got back together again." I think this is due in part to the fact that she's smaller...a "me-sized" loom...not just in width but in height. And although she seems dainty in ways, she's strong and reliable when it comes down to it. I am comfortable with her in the manner shared by old friends, and I found myself weaving on her without a thought of this being our introduction to one another. I finished up the first towel yesterday, 30 inches of a fairly simple twill pattern, and as I put in the last throws and finished the hemstitching, it seemed to me that we...or rather, I was ready for a new challenge. To that end, I decided to work with two boat shuttles to get the hang of changing colours before leaping into an overshot project. This means carrying the idle colour up the selvedge, a process which has always required much arm-waving and shoulder stress when working with stick shuttles. I wasn't sure how much of a learning curve there might be when using boat shuttles instead, but as it worked out, it's a lot easier, as well as being kinder to a rebuilt shoulder. Overshot should be the proverbial "piece of cake."

First Memory Wreath Block

Day 76: And in other news, I completed the first block of a Memory Wreath quilt on Christmas Day. Memory Wreath was the pattern I used in the first quilt I ever made, some fifty-plus years ago. I dived in with both feet, totally unaware that it was not a "beginner level" project, but in the end, I have to say that it turned out quite nicely even if some of the meets were less than perfect. I sewed it by machine, as opposed to by hand using English paper piecing as I am doing here, and I have always regretted allowing my husband to talk me out of it when we separated. It was themed around birds. This version will use the same dark green fabric in every block, with the centers and inner triangles in a different colour. Next up, I'll be using aqua prints where I've used red here, picking up a hint of aqua from the center. The quilt will be lap-sized, only 12 blocks, and should come together fairly quickly even though I'm still polishing off old projects as my primary goal.

Boat-Shuttle Capable

Day 75: While it is theoretically possible to use a boat shuttle on a loom without a race on the front of the beater bar, my experience with trying it did not end on a positive note. I've owned five (?) large looms in my life, and Daisy is the first one to have that "ledge." The threads in the lower portion of the shed should rest on it so that the shuttle can glide smoothly over them when thrown along the race. It takes a bit of practice, and as I learned quickly, Daisy is a very sensitive lady. If I rest a foot on the next treadle to be used as I have gotten in the habit of doing over the years, it may bring threads from a different shed into play. I'm developing a technique of sliding my inactive foot back as the active foot depresses the desired treadle, but sometimes my timing gets a little off and I throw the shuttle before the shed is "clean." Picking out an erroneous throw is not as easy with a boat shuttle as it is with a stick shuttle, believe me! That said, a boat shuttle is faster. I already have a foot woven on the first towel in this trial run. Like people, every loom has its own character which may be why so many of us name them. I'm learning Daisy's peculiarities and personality quickly, and I expect to spend many happy years with her.

Merry, Merry Christmas!

Day 74: He gave me a hug, arms around my neck and face pressed to mine (for the first time of his own accord). That was for Christmas Eve. This morning, he laid on my chest before we got out of bed, content and purring like a donkey engine to wish me a merry Merry Christmas. This, my friends, is what Christmas is about: love in its many forms. It cannot exist without being shared, so get out there. Stimulate some oxytocin in your family and friends! And don't forget the little people: the companions in our lives, and the ones outside our doors. As it is sung in "The Muppet Christmas Carol," "It is the season of the heart / a special time of caring / the ways of love made clear. / And it is the season of the spirit / the lesson if we hear it / is make it last all year."

Dressing Daisy for Christmas

Day 73: Daisy is almost dressed for Christmas! For this first trial run, I'll be weaving a Finnish twill (p. 37, Handweaver's Pattern Book, green version), and will only be making two towels roughly 30" in length before shrinking. Because I have to leave the raddle in place to compensate for a bow in the back beam (it will be replaced soon), I had to allow a little extra yardage as loom waste, so I measured the warp at 12'. That should give me plenty of space to weave a sample or perhaps even a placemat, and any thrums will be used either on a rigid heddle loom if they're long enough, or to make bands. Daisy was an absolute dream to warp, but for one small "operator error." I've become so used to winding warp on Max's overhead beam that I got the stick on the wrong side of the back beam, and when I started to wind on, it took me a minute to realize why it wouldn't work. D'uh! The warp goes OVER the back beam, not under it! See? Fifty-plus years of weaving and I can still make beginner mistakes with the best of 'em. In any event, threading is next, and I'll be weaving on Christmas unless the storm carries me away.

A Latvian Design

Day 72: I don't recall where I found this design, but I copied it down in my own weaver's shorthand on a sticky note, and taped it inside the front cover of an inkle-weaving book. I've made several iterations of it in different colours (this is my favourite combination) and using a variety of techniques including inkle and backstrap. Despite looking rather complex, it is a very easy pickup pattern. The threading is 2 red, 2 green, 2 yellow, 2 blue, 2 yellow, 1 green, 1 yellow, 1 green, 2 yellow, 2 blue, 2 yellow, 2 green, 2 red (a total of 23 threads), and is threaded in the normal fashion (hole/slot/hole/slot, etc.). The two single green threads near the center are manipulated every third pass, either pushing them down out of the way when they're in the upper layer of the shed (leaving the red to appear as a dash), or lifting them up from underneath when they appear in the lower layer of the shed. The band is functionally identical front and back. I was uncertain how pickup weaving would behave on the tape loom given that one changes hands with each pick, but actually, it's the same as weaving it with a backstrap loom, and not at all difficult or awkward.

Daisy

Day 71: Let me introduce you to Daisy, who has occupied the better portion of today. She came to me as a Christmas gift, at least in part, thanks to a generous gift certificate to Eugene Textile Center. She's an older lady, a 36" LeClerc Artisat, and although she appeared to have a few minor emotional problems, they were nothing we couldn't solve on the spot. I still have to tidy her up a bit, install bumpers for the beater, add additional heddles and we'll be ready to weave! She replaces my Schacht table loom, by virtue of having more working space between the breast beam and the shafts. She has a "ledge" for guiding a boat shuttle, two of which were also part of the gift, along with a bobbin winder. Finding her brings to a close a two year long search for a loom this size.

Solstice Tidings

Day 70: Dance the Holly! Dance the Mistletoe! The Light is now returning and dark nights swiftly go! A good Solstice to you, my friends. It won't be long before my body begins to recognize the lengthening days with a lifting of my spirits, and shortly after that, my head will recognize the change even though it only brings a few minutes of extra daylight. I have always been closely attuned to Nature, something I inherited from my father who could feel the changing of the seasons in his bones. Within two weeks, I'll say, "Hmmm...it's lighter out tonight" when I close my drapes in the evening, or "Brighter this morning" at dawn although the sun will undoubtedly be hidden behind cloud. Nature continues her deep sleep, but Solstice finds her dreaming of leaf buds and rising sap. Her eyelids will flutter as the crocuses emerge, to fully awaken with the daffodils. Spring is coming. Hold onto that hope, and dance the Solstice with me.

Christmas Cat House

Day 69 (bonus): Merry likes the Christmas Cat House, a soft-sided, padded "cat tent" with a cushy pillow inside. He assures me it's a big improvement on the Time-Out Box (his carrier) which has been his private space for months now. Y'see, sometimes when he knows he's going to get into trouble, he voluntarily puts himself in solitary confinement until the mood passes. However, this morning was exceptionally stressful for him because Mama was moving furniture to make room for a new (used) loom which will arrive some time fairly soon. That's a story for another day, though. This is about a little cat-cat who doesn't like the status quo being disturbed. No cat does. After expressing his displeasure by repeatedly attacking my thigh (a series of events which resulted in his being confined to the bathroom for half an hour), he decided it was just better to spend some time in the Cat House, no redaction necessary.

Russula Identification

Day 69: I have to tell you a story...

Russulas are fairly easy to identify as a genus. They're usually big. They generally have a coloured cap and a white stipe (stem). They tend to be brittle, and their gills are large and loose. Edible Russulas have a slightly fishy taste and, as you may already know from my previous posts, the well-known "Lobster mushroom" is actually the overgrowth of a different fungus on a Russula. Cap colour in Russulas can be tan/brown, and those types can be a little difficult to identify down to "species," but a pinkish-red or a purpleish-blue one surmounting a white stipe pretty much says, "I am a Russula," when the other factors are taken into account. Russula emetica is pictured above. The scientific name tells you all you need to know about its edibility, i.e., it has potent emetic powers.

My mother introduced me to mushrooming when I was in my 20s. I assumed she knew what she was doing because she was still walking around, but nevertheless, I only collected the species I could recognize easily on my own. On the other hand, she gathered other types for her table or for drying, including something she called "Blewits." It wasn't until some years later that I found out that a Blewit (Collybia nuda) is blue throughout: cap, stipe and flesh. My mother's "Blewits" were in fact a blue-capped Russula; edible, fortunately for her.

A Question Arises...

Day 68: It was an odd sensation, not something I could put a finger on, but any time I observed Platismatia glauca (Ragbag Lichen), a feeling of (vacancy? unease? puzzlement?) would come over me. Something was missing. How do you pin down an absence? The next time I found Ragbag, the same hollow sense would bring that not-exactly-a-chill to the back of my neck. It was always stronger when I'd find an older specimen, already starting to turn pinkish around the edges. A few days ago, it hit me: there was an unformed question I should have been needing to answer about that pink tinge.

We all know that lichens are comprised mainly of fungus and algae, right? Never mind the other stuff. It's not important to this discussion. We'll only concern ourselves with the algae. Those of us who live in coastal states are aware that red tides are caused by a toxic species of algae (or we bloody well should know that if we intend to eat shellfish). And those of us who backpack into the snowy uplands know (or should know) not to melt red-tinged snow for our drinking water for the same reason: toxic algae. Not that anybody would chow down on Ragbag, but is the pink colouration which appears in older specimens caused by the algal component of this common lichen? The answer is NO. Platismatia's phycobiont is a green alga. The pink tinge is a fungal pigment. And now that I've settled that thanks to an hour or so of internet delving, I can go back to quilting with the assurance that the next time I run across Ragbag, I'll be able to observe it without that sense of "something is missing here."

Lights Out Again

Day 67: This is us, Merry and I, in the dark again. Power went out some time between 3:30 AM when the Toe Attacker started trying to rake me out of bed, and 5 AM, which was how long I managed to convince him to sleep in, using the foot as a pillow instead of a game. He's getting better about that, but some mornings, he forgets his manners. In any event, when he woke me up again at 5, the house was dark. We got up by flashlight, turned on one of the "pocket light switches" (switch-operated, battery-powered LED light), and I navigated out to the camping cupboard where I took down my backpacking stove and made myself a cup of coffee. I was smart enough to make an extra pot yesterday in anticipation of this event (and for the record, I will drink coffee in any form except sugared or moldy). That part of morning taken care of, I turned on this "sparkle light," played some word games on my Kindle, whupped it at a game of chess and then decided that there had to be some fiberart I could do in the nearly-dark. By putting the pocket light switch in my lap so that the light was trained on the band, I managed to inkle about 18" of sheep, being extra super-careful that I wasn't catching any unwanted warp strings. Fried a piece of buttered sourdough on the camp stove for breakfast, thinking that would be a surefire way to bring the power back on. Nope, didn't work this time. Half an hour later, I heated up a second cup of coffee, and just as I went to sit down in my chair with it, the lights came on. It's magic how that works! You must sacrifice a certain unstated amount of precious stove fuel to the Power Gods before they will deign to consider your request for light. I think it's going to be a rough winter. And I keep telling myself, "It's almost Solstice. The Light is returning."

Rainbow Sheepies

Day 66: I have been diligently pecking away at old projects, and after finally freeing up all three inkle looms, I decided it was time to reward myself with something which had been in the back of my mind for ages: krokbragd sheep on a rainbow background. Part of the problem was motivation, to be sure, but another factor was that I kept hoping WEBS would restock their 10/2 cotton because I wanted to make a lighter band. I had six of the seven colours I needed for the design, but was lacking magenta. A friend passed along a box of yarns and weaving threads she'd been given by a friend, and lo and behold! There was a magenta cone in the lot. However, it was unlabelled. It seemed lighter than 8/2, but perhaps a little heavier than 10/2, a problem which sometimes arises when threads come from different mills. "Eh, close enough for gov'mint work," I said, and set myself the task of finishing the three languishing inkle projects. As for the other items on my list for polishing off are the bands on both of my Scandinavian band looms, one on the floor loom, and of course completing the remainder of the Autumn Oranges quilt (nearly done!). But just because I still have projects to finish, it doesn't follow that I am forbidden to start new ones. As much as I love weaving krokbragd on the inkle loom, the sheep won't take long, and I also started my first "Memory Wreath" quilt block last night.

Lights Out!

Day 65: There was a brief "island" in the middle of our latest atmospheric river in the afternoon, so I thought I'd take a quick walk up the road to see which tree had taken out the power lines earlier that morning. Kevin had just missed it...or rather, it had just missed Kevin. The tree fell about five minutes before he was passing my house on his way to work. It blocked the road, so he turned around and came back to my place. The power was out for two hours. So, as I said, I wanted to see for myself, so I took advantage of a break in the rain to walk up, camera under my wing. The central portion of the tree had been hauled away, but the part which had broken the power lines lay in several long sections on the verge. The trunk had snapped about 5' up from ground level, and the sections were roughly 16" in diameter, and were no longer the PUD's concern. They will disappear bit by bit over time, sawn into manageable chunks and carted off by locals who never pass up free firewood. You never see the "harvesters." Some day, it just registers with you that the roadside is log-free again. Funny how that works.

 

(Kevin's photo)

 

A Decade of Blackwork

Day 64: This is by no means the only blackwork I've done in the last ten years, but it has taken me a decade to complete the triptych. All are 12 x 12, and are mounted in identical frames. I put the final stitches on the Bird last night. It was a "bucket list" project I never seemed to get around to embroidering until now. The pattern is shown on the front cover of "Blackwork Embroidery" by Geddes and O'Neill, but I used different filling stitches throughout to personalize it. The Maze was made in 2016 from a "Stitch'nspiration" design, but again, I changed up the fillings. The Dresden Plate (from Buell's "Blackwork", also using different stitches in the blades) followed along in 2021. I stitched a pair of overlapping plates for a friend at some later date, and dubbed it "Eclipse." It felt good to put in those last few stitches last night, to have the Bird "done and dusted." I mounted it in the frame this morning, and now all three are hanging on the wall.

Shift Change

Day 63: A changing of the shift has occurred. I can't pinpoint the last day I saw a Rufous Hummingbird, although it's been a couple of weeks, maybe even a month. A few Anna's were in the neighbourhood at the time, and I remember thinking that the changing of the guard was close at hand. You see, Rufous is the dominant summer resident, with late spring and early fall being shared more or less equally. There will be the odd Anna's now and then in the summer, but they are scarce, and are usually only females. The males show up again in the fall, at which point the Rufous crowd vacates the premises. Anna's owns the winter, and will often be as numerous as their counterparts were in the summer. For the last several days, two (perhaps more than two) males have been vying for possession of the feeder outside the front window. Merry has become used to hummers, only occasionally offering commentary when one sits close to the glass.

Making Tape

Day 62: It has taken an inordinate amount of trial and error and a healthy helping of my father's tractor-starting vocabulary to work around the design flaws in this particular model of tape loom. Primarily, I was struggling with warp tension because the brake can only be engaged in one position. One hand must be free to release and re-engage it while another hand holds the wound warp tight to the roller so it doesn't unwind. A third non-existent hand seemed to be necessary to hold tension on the warp, and a fourth appeared to be needed to turn the crank. Since I am not an octopus, this was challenging. To make matters even more difficult, the warp beam is round and smooth. It has no gripping capability whatsoever. Once tied on, the knotted warp simply wouldn't wind, so I taped the loose ends to the roller. I found that if I "pre-curled" the separator papers, I could wind on by turning the roller with my fingers, bypassing the need for the brake entirely. It's still not the easiest thing to warp with even tension, but as you can see, I managed to make a nice little 1/4" tape (11 threads of 8/2 cotton) from some of my thrums. Before there was scotch tape, packaging tape, masking tape, etc., this is what "tape" meant. And like today's sticky tapes, it was used to hold things together. The average household used a lot of tape, and this was how it was made.

Footnote: I just discovered that those bag clips don't snap down very firmly. I was able to put on a new warp using the clip as a tensioner, freeing up both hands for the winding-on process!

Consult the Strawberry Book

Day 61: I got a very early start with horticulture when at age two, I was introduced to the "Strawberry Book" by my dad. It became known in the family as such because one time when no one was looking, I took a crayon to the line drawing of a strawberry (my favourite of the illustrations). I was firmly chastised for the error of my ways, and thereafter was only allowed to peruse the Strawberry Book with supervision. The book passed to me when I reached adulthood, and despite its dated nature, has still proved to be a valuable resource for my horticultural experiments. Some things never change, like the fact that gooseberries can be propagated by soil layering (purportedly "easily," although that remains to be demonstrated). It was to the Strawberry Book that I returned when my weaving partner Ed bought property and wanted to begin putting in a garden. He so loves my gooseberry jam that he asked me for starts from my plants. After the twigs had lost their leaves, I scraped off the harder outer tissue to expose the cambium layer, treated the wounds with rooting hormone, staked the twigs down and covered them with soil, essentially the same method I used to propagate from my contorted filbert. Gooseberries certainly won't be as challenging as that was!

Upstream, Downstream

Day 60: Let me tell you this about that: I did not like being on the far side of either of these bridges (Kernahan Rd., top; Elbe, bottom) to take these pictures for you. While I was standing on the Kernahan bridge, a tree struck one of the pylons with a loud thunk. Okay, I did not feel the bridge shake. I won't claim that, although I was left with a profound sense of my mortality as I thought about what was going on under the Nisqually's roiling surface. I have not seen it this high since the November 2006 flood...you know, the one which ate Sunshine Point Campground and closed the Park for six months. As a matter of fact, the Kernahan bridge was rebuilt after the 2006 flood. Here's a mere 10 seconds of the action today.

 

 

Autumn Oranges Milestone

Day 59: Fifty-plus years of quilting, and I just figured out how to make borders and corners easier. I have always trimmed my quilts before putting them in the frame, using binder clips and packaging twine to lash the edges so that I had room to stitch. It finally dawned on me: don't trim! Leave a border of backing and batting, and pin the edges of the quilt top in place. D'uh! Well, there you have it. The old dog has learned a new trick. Y'see, I've never had any instruction in how to do these things. That being the case, this is a milestone for "Autumn Oranges." I am now working on the outer and corner blocks. This corner is done! In fact, I only have six more blocks of a total of 20 to finish, a few fill-in "daisies" to do, and I'll be ready to apply the bias binding around the edge.

Little Mashel In Full Spate

Day 58: A new geocache along the Bud Blancher trail in Eatonville popped up yesterday, and given the weather, I said, "If Kevin wants the FTF, he can have it!" Okay, I was closer to the cache than he was at that particular moment as I recall, but it was coming down in buckets, and even the temptation of a first-to-find wasn't enough to drive me out into the torrent. Kevin found the cache that evening, and I told him I'd wait for drier weather. Well, the Weather Gods gave me an unexpected break today...the lull between two massive storms. I grabbed the cache and this picture of the Little Mashel in full spate. In the summer, I could wade across the creek without getting my knees wet (if I avoided holes, anyway). This stream is fed solely by runoff, and the glacial rivers like the Nisqually, Carbon and Puyallup are raging even now. Another storm is coming, and the Park has closed the main gate in anticipation of flood damage to the road. And I have no intention of going out again until after Christmas.

Living With Genius

Day 57: The first puzzle I gave Merry was no longer a challenge. Every morning, I get a small handful of treats and say, "Show me where your puzzle is. I'm going to put sprinkles in your puzzle." He dashes into the living room, sits beside the puzzle as I load the cups and close the lids. "Solve your puzzle!" He head-butts me as a thank-you, and immediately swipes the nearest lid aside to get the treats. I decided it was time to up the game, so after looking at dozens of puzzle feeders, I settled on this one by Catstages. It has multiple ways treats can be hidden. They can go in a pocket and be covered with a blue lid. The blue lid can be gently held in place by one of the white sliders, making it a two-step process: slide the slider, open the lid. The white sliders can hold treats as well, and have to be slid over a pocket to drop the food into it, then slid aside. It took him about ten minutes to figure out how all those secrets worked, but he was baffled by the rotating dial which covers seven pockets. He could smell the food, but no amount of sliding sliders or opening lids was getting him any closer to it. We went to bed with the dial unsolved.

Merry seems to be somewhat like his mama in that he does his best analytical thinking when asleep. I've solved a lot of personal puzzlements in my sleep, waking up with a start with my own version of "Eureka! I have found it!" Sometimes it's a weaving draft, or a warping method. Sometimes it's a word which has escaped my mind. Sometimes it's how something is constructed or how it can be deconstructed. We won't talk about the time it was all about how flying saucers break the light barrier to change course on a dime. I actually leapt out of bed and had pen and paper in hand to write that one down until I realized the fatal flaw in my hypothesis, i.e., no proof that flying saucers exist. In any event, my genius-level cat slept on the problem and apparently had a brainstorm because the following morning, as soon as I opened the bedroom door, he ran over to the new puzzle, spun the dial and sat there crunching his rewards.

Holiday Must-Have

Day 56: As I grew older, I came to realize something: traditions change. St. Nicholas no longer throws a bag of candy through the back door. Santa doesn't come down the chimney. The screw bases on the old lights don't fit the new strings. The ancient glass ornaments shed their paint like dandruff and are replaced by sets of plastic apples and handmade velvet baubles, which in turn are replaced by wooden birds. Conscience rears its head to dictate that killing a tree is a grievous sin, and an artificial one takes its place. Even now, my traditions are in flux. I've stopped sending cards or even a Christmas letter. The sisters-of-the-heart have decided that this will be our last "12 Days" gift exchange. The tree and almost all the decorations will stay in their boxes because it would be unfair to spend the season reprimanding a small cat for being a cat. But spritz? It's not Christmastime without spritz. I almost always make them on St. Nicholas' Day (I decorated this batch this morning). Sometimes, a week or two later, I make Russian tea cakes (aka "Sandies"), but they are not as traditional as spritz. It may be a small straw, but holding onto it gives me hope.

St. Nicholas' Day Spritz

Day 55: The Midwinter/Christmas holiday season has officially kicked off with the baking of spritz for St.. Nicholas' Day. I make 3-5 different shapes, and although I put Sprinx on top of most of them, if I have candied cherries or fruitcake fruit, the "wreath" gets that in the center. We have a list of dangerous words here: spritz, Sprinx and "sprinkles," i.e., the Fancy Feast "gourmet" kibble Merry regards as a treat. I have to be extra careful when muttering to myself so that he doesn't misunderstand what's about to happen. In any event, the cookies will be decorated either tonight or tomorrow (probably tomorrow, because 3 PM kinda sneaked up on me today). Happy St. Nicholas' Day!

Pussyfoots

Day 54: People look at me in disbelief when I tell them Merry's fingers are as big around as my own, but here's visual proof. In fact, I think he'd probably wear a size larger thimble than I do because of the depth of his pads. That said, that's a soft little hand holding mine, and unlike most cats, he likes the contact. When he sleeps in my lap, one of my hands is supposed to support at least one (if not both) back feet while the other rests on his shoulder. No, I don't get a lot done in that configuration, but what's more important? A project I'm going to give away when it's done, or the love of a precious, trusting pussycat? As for Carl Sandburg's fog coming in on little cat feet, that line of poetry tells me that Sandburg never owned a cat. A herd of stampeding elephants makes less noise than four little cat feet chasing a toy at 3 AM.

These Make Good Scents

Day 53: Long before the word "potpourri" came to designate those overpoweringly odorous bowls of wood chips and dyed flower petals now sold alongside scented candles, your grandmother probably made at least one of the items pictured above to put in her "dainties" drawer both for their fragrance and/or as a moth deterrent. They kept their scents much longer, as you'll see as I describe each one.

The "lavender bottles" (yes, that's what they're called) are something I made with homegrown lavender about 25 years ago and still have their fragrance, although it's faint. As complicated as they look, the process for creating them is fairly simple, although care must be taken not to break the stems, which are very brittle even when freshly picked. Pick a dozen or so spikes with long stems, tie them with heavy thread just below the flowers, then carefully bend the stems back. Weave lavender-coloured ribbon in a simple over-and-under pattern until the flower heads are entirely covered. Tie the remaining ribbon in a bow, and you're done.

A pomander is made by studding an orange with whole cloves, as tightly packed together as is possible, and then it can be placed in a net bag if desired. The orange will dry out, shrinking as much as the cloves will allow, and holding them in place. I made mine about 50 years ago, and it still perfumes my undies drawer, albeit lightly.

Last of all are rose beads, a versatile and popular Victorian-era project which can be put in with clothing or even worn as a bracelet or necklace. I made this set at least 50 years ago, and they are still fragrant. Some people say that the ones their grandma made in 1900 still have a light fragrance. They're a bit more complicated to make than the lavender bottles or the orange pomander, though. First of all, you'll need an old, rusty cast-iron frying pan and a handful of rusty nails, the rustier the better for both. Then you'll need to gather rose petals, a lot of rose petals, a huge amount of rose petals, way more rose petals than you think you'll ever need. Wild roses are best, but any strong-smelling rose will do. Grind them with a mortar and pestle if you have the tools. If not, crush them with a rock, cave-man style. Put them in the rusty frying pan with the nails and stir them up good. Every day for the next several weeks, stir them again, adding a little water if they start to dry out. Once they're thoroughly blackened, they're ready to be shaped. Roll up gobs of rose-petal mush to form balls about twice the size you want them to be when dry. Stick a round toothpick through each ball, and poke one end into a piece of styrofoam or a bowl of sand and let them dry thoroughly (give 'em a month or so). Remove the toothpicks carefully, twisting to release them from the dried petal mush. You'll lose a few, so make extra.

Any one or all of these make more scents than buying stinky potpourri!

Stages of Development

Day 52: After exploring multiple options for how to lay out "Memory Wreath," my plan is finally carved in stone...or fabric, as it were. Did I want a dark background or a light one? How many colours did I want to use? Did I want the center to be the same colour as the corners? Where did I want to put the darks, the lights? I settled on a layout I've not used before in this design: white background, two colours, darks for the outer points, the center a lighter shade of the same colour, dark in a second colour for the big triangles and inward-pointing small triangles, and a lighter shade of the second colour for the interior points. Having come that far, it's time to put together a test block! For it, I used leftover solids, and have laid a few paper pieces on the sample for the sake of illustrating. Each piece gets glue-basted around a paper piece to hold its shape while sewing them together. The paper is not removed until additional pieces are attached to all sides, and in fact are often left in until the quilt is completed. However, the finished product will not look much like the test block because I'll be using prints, and I will make the outer points in all blocks (12 total) using the same green fabric. The center will also be a green print, different from the points. The remaining points and large triangles will be made using lights and darks of the second colour. Corners and edge triangles will be white. I've started sewing the test block together, although I may not dive into making the actual quilt until after the holidays. It will be smaller than usual, lap-sized, three blocks by four.

Uncles

Day 51: Uncles! I had a favourite uncle who used to tickle me, play games with me, spin me around in circles; who read science fiction to me while I was still in a crib, who taught me algebra when other kids were struggling with long division, who took me to stay ten days with him at his duty station on Mount Rainier the summer after my father died (and thereby set the course of my life). Some uncles are just blah. Others are Special, always to be remembered with great fondness. Such was my uncle Gus. Merry loves uncles, and especially his uncle Kevin who he sees most often. Kevin gets down on the floor with him, shares his toys, tickles his tummy, and Merry soaks it up. He recognizes Kevin's car (or the sound of it, perhaps) and gets excited when Kevin pulls into the driveway. "Here comes your uncle Kevin!" I tell him, and then grab him to be sure he doesn't dash out the door (he's not allowed outside). As soon as greetings have been exchanged, the fun begins. And the one time Kevin came in and could only stay for half a minute, Merry watched at the window as he drove off, sad little cat-nephew meowing his unhappiness that uncle Kevin went bye-bye without a proper visit.

Fungal Find

Day 50: There are far too many orange or pink/orange Ramaria species in the Pacific Northwest which are almost identical in outward appearance, and my skill with the microscope is probably not good enough to sort them out, but that doesn't prevent me from admiring their graceful forms. It should be obvious why they are generically called "coral fungi," and some can be told apart by the way the tips branch (but of course that can be tricky depending on what growth phase they are in). Some are edible. Some are not. Both my conscience and my confidence keep me from temptation. In any event, as I was meandering through the ferns to reach yesterday's geocache, I passed this lovely specimen by without taking a photo, saying as I did so, "I bet I can't find it again." I should have known better, because when I put myself on auto-pilot, I invariably retrace my steps with amazing precision regardless of the terrain. After finding the cache, I began working my way back to the car. "Oh, there it is!" I said, having put my foot down on the same patch of moss I'd stepped on earlier, and even if I don't know the exact species, this fungal find was a perfect companion for my geocaching find.