Rising To The Challenge

Day 86: I have to admit that when I warped Pippin with sewing thread, I wasn't quite sure that I hadn't bitten off more than I cared to chew. Fact of the matter is, I am enjoying weaving with fine thread so much that I will warp Jutta with it as soon as I have finished her current band. Sewing thread coupled with 10/2 cotton yields a finished product similar in appearance and feel to commercial trims, a weight and flexibility which would be entirely acceptable to apply to a sweater or other garment such as a nightgown or blouse. Admittedly, the weaving would go faster if I was working on a band loom where the sheds are controlled by my feet. On Pippin, the roller at the top of the castle is turned by hand to change the shed. But then, what's the hurry? Weaving should be an eminently pleasurable and relaxing exercise, not something to rush through.

Snow Line

Day 85: As someone I knew used to say, "'Almost' don't count, 'cept in horseshoes and hand grenades." Maybe a flake or two fell here in the night, mixed with rain, but the snow line cuts off roughly 500' above me, and that's as close as I've been to snow so far this winter. Now you might be expecting a rant on climate change to follow those words, but in fact, this is more like a normal winter than we've seen in years. By "normal," I refer to my personal recollections and more importantly, to my meticulously kept weather records. 2023 was a bit drier than usual, coming in on the low end of our customary precipitation total, but still within range. There have been many years we've gone without any snow at all at my current location, although that's been somewhat balanced out by the years we've received two or three feet in one weather event. The Pacific Northwe't may be rather on the damp side of the equation overall, but as a general rule, our climate is mild year-'round, grey though it may be. And of course if I want to see snow, it's only a short drive to the Park and a 14,410' Mountain with all the snow you could ever want.

Got Worms?

Day 84: Given the opportunity, most of us collect something, whether it's rocks, stamps, old letters, comic books, antiques, and I'd venture to say that most people have more than one collection. I certainly do. My very first collection began with a single "worm," as I have always called this assortment of worms and caterpillars. In fact, my very first "worm" was the guy in the top hat in the bottom left. My mother gave him to me for my first birthday, with a cactus planted in the hollow in his back. Is it any wonder I have a somewhat prickly nature? It would seem that my destiny was appointed in that first worm. Many of the ceramics in the "Worm Box" are almost as old; I collected at least half a dozen of them before I was old enough for kindergarten. Some have been lost over the years, some replaced, but others gone forever. My foster sister's cat ate one of the tiniest ones. The large character in the lower right was a "house-worming" gift from my husband. You'll see a few birds in the Box, the occasional cat, a couple of sheep, a frog, two dogs I inherited from my uncle Lee, and even a miniature mediaeval harpist less than half an inch tall. However, "worms" dominate the scene. Why worms? I haven't got a clue.

Signs

Day 83: Someone once said that fishing was "an endless series of occasions for hope." I feel that way about Spring. The first swelling bud, the first tip of green to burst through the soil, inspires me to break out the seed catalogs to begin planning my year's gardening adventure. These days, of course, my perusing is done on line which, if the truth be known, is much less satisfying than going page by page through a "wish book," but on the other hand (and I'm sure companies won't want to hear this), it keeps me from buying more varieties than I actually need, or daring to try something new. I order my tried-and-true favourites, and that's it. That said, there's not much room in my garden for annuals these years. My mother's wisdom finally soaked in, and I've let the perennials spread. All I really want is colour without a lot of weeding. A dense cover of perennials makes my job a lot easier.

Puzzle Season

Day 82: I'm taking a break from weaving today (well, more or less) to work on a puzzling puzzle I received as a Christmas gift. It was billed as a "mystery puzzle," one which has no picture to guide you along. If the puzzler gets desperate, there's a sealed envelope with the image inside, but that would take the fun out of it, in my opinion. In fact, it's coming along rather quickly. I've determined that the scene (a painting) is of a group of Canadian kids holding a hockey match on a frozen pond, with a neighbourhood scene of quaint buildings in the background. As usual, I sorted for edge pieces first and came up five short when I had the edge put together. That worried me, because I seldom miss more than two, but when I was picking out the most identifiable shop (red), I found four of them. And then I really did start to worry, because even after laying the pieces out on cookie sheets, the one missing edge piece failed to surface. "Patience," I said to myself. "The box says 'no missing pieces' on it. It'll show up eventually." The good news is that I found it...after putting together several buildings, most of the sky and horizon, and a large portion of the pond. Poor Tippy nearly leapt out of his fur when I yelled, "EDGE PIECE!" in triumph.

Project Lineup

Day 81: You might say that I have my projects lined up going into the new year, but in fact, my hearth nearly always looks like this, and actually, this represents only the current works in progress. There is organization in those baskets, and at any given moment, I can grab one to move it to a position beside my chair, putting everything I need within arm's reach as I settle in for a stint at a loom or the wheel. Today, I'm a bit behind my usual rate of progress, but the house is "de-Christmased" and put back in its customary orderly disarray. As much as I'd like to be weaving, knitting or spinning, I think a nap is more compelling.

Arbitrary Constructs

Day 80: The New Year has come 'round...or has it? The equivalent of "New Year's Day" is celebrated on widely disparate days by different cultures depending on their calendars which, after all, are social constructs in and of themselves. Time is an artificial construct as far as its measurement goes, and again, not all cultures regard it in the same manner as we do. We have created devices for determining time (or rather, duration), scientifically ticking off the increments with atomic regularity, but anyone waiting for a bus in the rain can confirm that some minutes are substantially longer than others. Time is relative, in more ways than Albert Einstein was able to quantify. A month in a child's life is an eternity; an octogenarian remarks on how quickly it passed. Perhaps that is what Salvador Dali was intending to suggest with his limp watches in "The Persistence of Memory," that time, the flexible, distorted rigor by which the bulk of us manage our lives and attempt to govern the lives of others, is not as fixed as we wish to make it.