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.