Flannel Vs. Fleece

Day 35: I would be willing to bet that almost anyone in my readership knows the difference between flannel and fleece. However, Joann Fabrics' search engine apparently does not, because when I requested "fleece," flannel was mixed in with it. I will accept some responsibility here because I did not read carefully. After all, both words begin with "fl-" and my cursory glance did not catch the difference because I had asked specifically for "fleece" and expected that's what I'd see. Consequently, when my order arrived, I thought there had been a mistake, so I checked the receipt. Damn. Yep, I'd ordered the flannel. I sent Joann a note, hoping that they might allow me to return the fabric. I explained that the search engine was at least partly to blame, and suggested that they fine-tune it to actually give the results the customer requested. Joann's response? "What a wonderful idea! We'll pass that along to management." And that was it, no "Here's a return authorization" or even an apology.

Does it occur to anyone else that technology has failed miserably at making our lives easier and more convenient? Search engines bring up flower arranging when you've asked to see cat food. Customer service has been depersonalized with AI, giving the customer no chance to explain extenuating circumstances. Web pages show only a few products at a time, so we waste precious hours advancing to the next screen and having to backtrack to the products we might want to compare. Paging through a paper catalog was so much easier: just dog-ear the pages and flip back to them. Technology has added annoyances to our growing list of gripes instead of helping us get through our days with some semblance of ease. Now as to what I'm going to do with two yards of flANNEL I didn't want, I don't really know. However, my re-order of the flEECE will become another blanket, one I hope Merry will share with me.

Merry's New Blanket

Day 25: He knows it's his, and that doesn't make finishing it any easier for me. Every time I lay Merry's new blanket aside, he takes possession of it. Oh, sure, I could put it somewhere else, hide it from him, but how could I ever be so mean when it gives him so much pleasure? I'll get the hem done eventually, even though I'm only managing about eight inches per sitting before my fingers give out. I'm working closed blanket stitch around the edge (see inset), and considering that the fleece is roughly 54" x 68" (big enough to cover a double bed), it's going to take a while anyway. And yes, I could have just turned a hem and stitched it up on the sewing machine, but that wouldn't have been as much fun for me as finishing it by hand. Besides, a special little kit-cat deserves the very best his mama can provide.

Nalbinding With Handspun

Day 16: You might imagine that my home would be filled with handcrafts and examples of fiber arts, given the volume I produce, but you would be mistaken. Oh, there are towels in the cupboard and rugs on the floor, two quilts and the occasional piece of art, but for the most part, the things I create are given as gifts. That said, it's nice to be able to make something for yourself now and then instead of shopping for it, or maybe just because you think it would be fun. I don't really need another winter hat, but I've had nalbinding on my mind, so I decided it was time to use up some of my handspun. This greyish-brown (brownish-grey?) wool came from my ram. It was one of the few skeins I've spun at a bulky weight and consequently wouldn't match gauge with any other yarn in the cedar chest. Although there's enough to make more than one hat, a scarf would be out of the question unless I put another wool with it. I'm using the Oslo stitch, a relatively simple nalbinding stitch to make a typically Scandinavian-style "cat hat" with a turned-up brim, essentially a rectangle worked in the round. Two corners stick up as "ears" and may be worn positioned as such, but alternately, the points can be set on the head toward the front and back like a garrison cap.

Sheepy Bizness

Day 42: As the vendor said to me when I protested that I really didn't need any more wool (but why else had I gone to the bazaar?), "The one who dies with the most wool wins, right?" Thus it was that two pounds of the cinnamon-coloured locks in the lower right foreground followed me home.

Spinning is my current alternate to quilting. When I need a break, I kick the quilt frame aside and take my Louet wheel from its position beside the fireplace to set in front of the same chair. Currently, I'm working with white Corriedale roving, but there's nothing like new fleece to hurry a project along. One of these days, I'll actually knit up some of the plied wools occupying a significant space in the cedar chest, or perhaps I'll weave them. And therein lies the rub: I can't decide how best to utilize handspun yarns.

Ranking 'round the clock, starting with the finished yarn in the upper left, the wools shown here are black lamb's-wool from the first lamb born in my care, a surprisingly light tan wool from my "black" ram, silver Gotland roving (delicious to spin), "in the grease" cinnamon lamb's-wool (the new acquisition), light grey washed fleece from a friend, and of course the white Corriedale on the spindle and in roving. Do you think I'm going to run out of things to do any time soon?

Wool Anatomy

Day 332: As we were assembling to go on for our first dance set at St. Luke's English Fete, I noticed a woman demonstrating spinning, and laid out on a cloth at her feet were what appeared to be several fleeces. As soon as we were done dancing, I hurried over to find out if she was selling the wool. Then I noticed something I hadn't observed before: her right arm was missing from just above the elbow. I started chatting with her, watching her spin with one hand, and as the conversation progressed beyond fleece availability, she invited me to sit down beside her and as I did so, I noticed a pair of carders on the ground beside a basket of fluffy, carded wool. How did she manage? Carding for me has always been the hardest part of spinning because I've had a major shoulder repair and have very little strength in my right arm. I picked up a batt of wool, and even before I could ask the obvious question, she grabbed the carders and set one on her right knee, holding it in place with her amputee's stump, and took the other in her left hand, rested her forearm on her left knee and began pulling a new lock of fleece through the carding hooks. At that point, I explained about my injury and she happily coached me through the steps of her method. We swapped phone numbers and she offered to fill a bag with raw wool for me to take home. Using her carding method, I've filled a whole basket in just two sessions! Old dogs can be taught new tricks, no matter what people may think.

Working with raw wool is both a delight and a pain in the neck (or arm, if you don't use the right technique). Even skirted fleeces have some unsavoury bits, so it's best if you do your carding outdoors or with something on the ground at your feet which can be shaken out. Constant exposure to sun splits the ends of sheep hair just as it does human hair, so the tips of the locks are usually matted together. By working them gently with the carders, the tangles can be opened out. Spinners speak of certain attributes of various wool types, and these include crimp (the waviness or curliness of locks of fleece), staple (the length of the fiber) and micron size. Romney wool has a micron size of 31-38, and is one of the finest (size-wise) from the long-staple breeds.