Max's First Warp

Day 139: First of all, let me explain that I'm working in really tight quarters here. In fact, I was standing INSIDE my old loom to take this photo of Max, who sits at 90 degrees to it with about 12" of space between the two. When the cord for the warp apron finally arrived yesterday and I had mounted it, I discovered why Bergman owners talk about "lowering the jack box." That is the apparatus which holds the harnesses and their myriad heddles. The way Bergman looms are constructed, the jack box has to be lifted off its pegs and dropped to rest on the frame of the loom at normal working height. This clears the pathway for the threads to be wound onto the warp roller which, you may notice is ABOVE the warp as it makes its rounds rather than below. It wasn't long before I figured out how much easier this makes several steps of the warping process. Go Bergman! Once the warp has been beamed onto the roller, the jack box is returned to its working position on the top of the loom (as shown in the photo), and threading the heddles may begin. Another marvelous feature of these looms is that they are foldable even when a project is in progress. Mine folds down to a mere 19" back-to-front. This also means that things which would normally get in your way or be awkward to work around can be removed and set aside. On my old loom, I always felt like I was breaking ribs as I stretched over the breast beam to retrieve threads from the lease sticks. Not with the Bergman! I simply remove the breast beam, put my little stool inside the loom frame and sit there merrily threading. When I'm done, I'll reinstall the breast beam and beater bar, thread the reed, bring the cloth apron (as opposed to the warp apron) up and around the breast beam, and tie the warp ends to its rod. After a few (I hope) adjustments to the tie-up, I should be ready to weave a twill colour gamp for Max's official baptism.

Spacers And Chasers

Day 138: This one is going to be fun! Many historic/traditional Scandinavian bands were made with multiple patterns occurring in the same piece, sometimes without repeating at all. I wanted to make a trim for the outer edges of the "Scandinavian Favourite" crackle-weave tablecloth and decided to put my own twist on the principle by using identical spacers in between short motifs. Since my initial plan for a holiday tablecloth turned into the King's Flower coverlet, I also chose to incorporate some green into this band to give it Christmas-y feel. I have warped thirty feet and will be using both traditional and original motifs in as many variations as I can manage with 11 pattern threads. I'm calling it "Spacers and Chasers."

Mind The Multiplier

Day 137: "Let's see," I said to myself as I was planning this band, "the placemats are 20" x 16", so that's one yard (and a smidgen for turning corners) times two to go all the way around. Two yards and about six inches per placemat. That's what I need." And then I went off and did something else requiring keen focus, like retrieving the warping board from the Loom Room. "Four yards," I said as I sat down to wind warp, "Times two for two placemats. And a little bit for the Pope." Anybody see the problem here? Yep, I doubled my doubled measurement in that brief thirty seconds I was gone. When did I realize what I'd done? When I took the band off the loom yesterday and found that I had MILES of it, way more than I needed for two little placemats. No wonder it took me so long to weave. Mind the multiplier, Crow. Mind the multiplier.

Peltigera Britannica

Day 136: Peltigera britannica is fairly easy to distinguish from other similar lichen species in the field when it is fruiting. Its cephalodia (layman's term: "little black spots") are easily detached. In fact, they are so easily detached that a good rainstorm can complicate identification by removing them. Each cephalodium is capable of reproducing another lichen, and large masses of Peltigera are not uncommon where conditions are ideal. This lichen attaches to its substrate by means of rhizines which, although they resemble roots, do not absorb nutrients. They serve solely to hold the lichen in place on rock, tree trunks or soil. The same species can exhibit a brown upper surface, many times growing side-by-side with a spring-green companion.

On The Tip Of My Tongue

Day 135: Oemleria cerasiformis is one of the first shrubs to come into bloom in the spring here in the Pacific Northwest. "Oemleria cerasiformis," I said to myself as I passed the first one, "Oemleria...it's on the tip of my tongue...hang on...I know it...it'll come to me...WHAT THE HELL IS THE COMMON NAME?" I gave it another quarter mile of think before I started going through the alphabet. I was pretty sure there was an i-vowel sound in it. "Ia..ib...ic...id. That rings a bell. Ie...if...ig..." and in another quarter of a mile, I'd hit "in" which, coupled with "id" made me yell "INDIAN PLUM!" to an otherwise empty (thank heavens!) forest. After a relatively botany-free winter, it always takes me a while to get the synapses to snap into place. I used to have trouble with Cardamine every year (another early bloomer) until I put it into storage as "something to do with 'heart,'" but it has never been in my mental database as "bittercress." In late summer, Indian Plum (the Oemleria under discussion) makes small oval fruits consisting primarily of a large seed and a little skin. That said, they were used as a foodstuff by native peoples here which, under analysis for calories vs. effort gives one a much greater appreciation of how tough it is to survive as a hunter-gatherer.

My Guide

Day 134: We have this in common, my little guide and I: we have a song to sing, but we prefer to remain unseen as we give it voice. Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus) is adept at staying out of sight, concealing himself in piles of brush so well that all anyone passing may see is a flash of motion in the corner of their eye. His song is long and varied, more music in his breast than one would think a small bird could hold, unless of course one understands the physiology of the syrinx which permits it. As we try to spot him in the dark places of the forest, we look vainly (there...no, there...or there, perhaps?) as his talent for ventriloquy deceives us. And then the melody falls upon us from immediately aside in a cascade of tinkling trills and arpeggios and, if fortunate, we catch a glimpse of drab, brown agitation, gone again in an instant. Where least expected, the song rises again repeatedly amid the stillness of the trees, acknowledging the interloper in the territory of the singer.

Cladonia Macilenta

Day 133: Cladonia macilenta is one of the few Cladonias I can identify with any degree of certainty without playing with dangerous chemicals in my kitchen. It is one of a very few "red-headed" species, and is often mis-identified as Cladonia cristatella by people who have come here from the eastern part of the country. These are not "British Soldiers" (cristatella), although I have heard the common name "Toy Soldiers" applied to them, creating further confusion with the similarity. Cladonia macilenta is fairly common in the Pacific Northwest and can be identified by the relatively smooth surface of its podetia (stalks). Our other common "red-head" is Cladonia bellidiflora, which exhibits small leafy scales on its stalks, generally in copious abundance. This particular specimen is out of its natural plumb, obviously having been laid on a horizontal surface (not by me) so it could be photographed. I took advantage of the situation for a photo of my own while thinking that the person who had laid it there would probably mis-identify the species when they tried to sort it out.