Abhorrence

Day 1: Nature abhors a vacuum. Crow abhors a mistake. Having finished the birds cross-stitch, I decided to work on making a small hardanger wall ornament on which to display Dorset buttons, and it has become a serial nightmare. It started badly. I wasn't happy with the colour, wasn't happy with the weight of thread I'd chosen. I cut the stitching off at least half a dozen times in the process of working out how I wanted it to look. Once I finally settled the issues of colour and weight, I made no end of miscounting errors in the buttonhole stitching outlining the piece. After sorting that out, I realized I'd set the design too high on the scrap of cloth I wanted to use up, and didn't have enough to turn for a rod pocket, but I was so far into it that I decided to keep going and turn it into something else. I thought everything was coming along nicely until I turned the final corner and discovered that if I continued, I'd have 21 threads on one side of "middle" and 22 on the other. I counted. I counted again. I counted several different ways. I couldn't see where I'd made the mistake. Thinking I might have messed up in the planning phase I'd only done mentally, I charted it. No, I should have had 21 stitches on either side. I counted again. And again. Somewhere in there, there's a mistake, and I can't find it. Now I have two choices: cut the stitchery off the cloth, or throw the whole bloody thing in the bin. I'm 'bout ready to opt for the latter choice.

Footnote: Found and fixed!

Summer-and-Winter Blues

Day 290: Yesterday was one of Those Days. The mind tends to wander while performing the mechanics of weaving, and I was lost in planning my next project, of which you will read more momentarily. I had nearly reached the end of the solid motif when something caught my eye. Immediately after the fourth or fifth coloured throw in the block, there were two white tabby threads crossing the same warps near the selvedge. "Dammit!" I said. "Mistake!" Fixing it would mean 10-15 minutes of back-picking, but in my opinion and practice, mistakes are not to be tolerated. With much further profane language, I set about unweaving my morning's work. When I reached the offending throw, I was surprised when the shuttle came entirely free from the cloth, the thread end dangling. Then I realized that my "mistake" had not been a mistake at all. Rather, it was where I had joined a new thread and the wefts overlapped. The fact that it was at the selvedge should have clued me in, but I had been wool-gathering. I had to laugh at myself even though I spouted a new geyser of profanity at that moment. After all, I had once made a sampler for my husband showing "The Faceter's Cuss-Code." One of the lines read, "Fixed a mistake that wasn't a mistake." Now back on track, I am halfway through the fourth towel, and the last to be worked in blue. Next up: red.

For my next project, I will be doing something I've never done before: weaving an item with the specific purpose of putting it in the Puyallup Fair next year. I will be using the same draft (it's a favourite), but expanded and with a colour change in the warp to accommodate joining three panels for a coverlet. The coloured pattern thread will be heavier, 3/2 against an 8/2 tabby. It will require 22 feet of warp, only six feet longer than what is on the loom presently. Given that I've only been working on these towels for two weeks and am almost two-thirds of the way done, the coverlet should only take a month or so to make. It won't be ready for this year's Fair, but I have plenty of time to get it done for next year.

We All Make Mistakes

Day 197: Now into weaving the fifth traditional bird's-eye towel on the floor loom, I settled down to work a few nights ago but noticed something odd in the first three inches. One of the diamonds looked a little off, although when I counted threads in each colour change, everything seemed to be correct. I wove a few more throws, but the discrepancy was bothering me. I finally resorted to pulling out a hand lens (used in fiberarts almost as often as in botany) to analyze the problem. Sure enough, 28 throws back, there was a treadling error. Rather cross with myself, I laid the shuttles aside and went to bed, thinking no one would notice if I left it there, especially since it had taken a hand lens for me to find the mistake. But this is not the way the Crow works. I kept myself busy with other projects for the next several days, unable to force myself to continue on the towel.

In my history as a fiber artist/needleworker, I have been known to unravel two-thirds of a sweater body in order to correct a mistake which didn't lend itself readily to being picked back. Likewise, I've torn out sections of cross-stitch in order to place a quarter-stitch I missed on the pattern. I could give more examples, but you get the idea. Mistakes, you see, are simply not allowed. Last night, I reached a determination. This morning, even before my first cup of coffee, I un-wove to the offending throw, fixed it, and re-wove to to my last stopping point. Now I can feel comfortable about going on.