2/1 Twill on Rigid Heddle

I was sure it could be done, but after one full day and a sleepless night, I could not visualize how to effect a twill weave structure on my two-heddle rigid heddle loom. Although I'm trying to limit my internet time (to preserve my mental well-being!), the first thing I did the next morning was hit YouTube. I found a clear and easy to follow video from "Rigid Heddle Weaving in Brisbane" which told me everything I needed to know. She suggested warping in colour bundles of six threads to make it easier to understand the threading process which, I must admit, sounds daunting but is actually quite simple, so I dragged out all my partial cones of ancient dye lots and went a little mad with stripes. This is a 2/1 twill, meaning that the weft thread goes under one and over two in a progressive diagonal over three repeating passes of the shuttle. It is delightfully easy to weave. My plain coloured warp was a bundle of 65" super-long thrums from a project I'd cut off the floor loom early for some reason, and were the perfect length for two towels, allowing for loom waste. As I understand it, a 2/2 twill cannot be woven without adding a third heddle or using a pickup stick. That's fine. I'm happy with 1/2.

Warp In Waiting

I always like to have a "warp in waiting" when I'm working on a floor loom project so that when I finish up, I can jump right into a new one. However, my stock of threads (well, of colour choices) was getting rather low because my supplier has been out of stock for some time. They are beginning to restock now, but it set me to thinking that I should use what I have, and then replace the colours I use most frequently. Another factor to consider was that a friend just bought me out of every single towel and placemat I had in my stash, excluding those I was reserving for gifts! With that to inspire me, I decided to make towels. I took inventory of what was in my stash, discovered that I had two cones of the same blue, so rather than using cream or white for plain-weave stripes, I decided to use the blue instead. It will really make the coloured texture stripes pop. I'm roughly a third done with the second iteration of "Cornerstones," and I think it's time to do something simpler than overshot.

Snow Day

Until yesterday, winter had been almost snow-free. There had been a light dusting in late November, and another a few weeks ago, but that had been it. I was beginning to feel cheated. I love snow, at least when it isn't an inconvenience and, not to put too fine a point on it, I don't have all that many winters left to me when I might enjoy it. But yesterday, Mother Goose shook out her featherbed in a fervor of spring cleaning and, like many of our March snows, it came down like crazy, piled up briefly, and disappeared almost as quickly. This is snow at its best: beautiful and ephemeral even at its most intense.

Cornerstones In Green

Well, what I said and what I did were two entirely different animals. I was very tired after winding on, threading 399 warp threads through heddles and the reed, tying on the warp bundles, inserting a header and adjusting the tension, so my post to social media read, "The new warp is on Daisy, and I've installed the 'slicky cord' I use to space it. I've even wound some bobbins, but I probably won't start weaving (or seriously, anyway) until tomorrow." With that, I shut the computer down, stood up and walked immediately to the loom and wove the first motif. I find that having Daisy in the living room is a good motivator. I'm far more likely to fill a bored moment ("moment" being defined as 15-20 minutes in this case) with a stint at the loom. Appropriate to the upcoming celebration of St. Patrick's Day (although that wasn't why I chose the colour theme), these "Cornerstones" are actually three shades of green (warp, pattern thread and tabby).

Cornerstones

The first version of Cornerstones is off the loom and ready to have the two panels sewn together. The warp for a second throw in shades of green is mounted on the loom, although I haven't started winding it on yet. I really like this pattern. It's a summer-and-winter, i.e., the back looks superficially like the reverse of the front, but in fact it isn't quite an exact opposite. The winning feature, however, is that the panels will join better than any overshot I've ever done. That's always a bit of a challenge for two reasons: one, the motifs are split down the center at the selvedges, and two, draw-in reduces the width of those outer motifs. Because the motifs are split, some threads which would carry across the center point in the interior of the work are "broken" at the halfway point at the selvedges. With care, panels can be stitched together so that the join isn't blatantly obvious, although a skilled eye would see it. Still, if your four-shaft loom isn't so wide it takes up half your house, panels are your only option for weaving coverlets or throws.

Nålbinding On and Off

For some time now, I have wanted to learn how to nålbind "off the thumb" (bottom) as opposed to "on the thumb" (top), the difference being that in working off the thumb, smaller stitches can be made using finer yarns and threads. The technique baffled me until I discovered one critical step, i.e., that the work is flattened out so that the needle passes either over or under the threads without the twist involved in working "on the thumb." As I worked, I began to understand another mystery, that of the nålbinding notation which reads along the lines of "OO/UU/OO," representing "over" and "under" the respective threads. The limitation in working "on the thumb" is that your thumb, be it large or small, is the gauge for your stitch size. In working "off the thumb" (i.e., held in the hand without any wraps being carried over the thumb), stitch size is governed by the size of the needle. This has opened up an entirely new world to me as far as nålbinding is concerned, and although I've only worked the small sample shown in the bottom picture, be George, I think I've got it!

Spring Has Sprung

My first crocus has croc-ed, so it's official: Spring has sprung / The grass is riz / I wonder where / the daisies is? And yes, I know there are many variations to that little rhyme, but that's how I learned it when I was a very small child. I've seen people remark that this seems early for crocuses, but I think it's pretty close to normal, at least here. Maybe if we'd had a bit more snow or colder nights, they'd have been a week later, but early March is pretty much standard, following right on the heels of the snowdrops. Over the years, I've lost quite a few to marauding deer and elk, along with tulips and hyacinths. Daffodils are fairly cervid-proof, but the crocuses seem to be "deer candy." This is my second year with this batch. So far, so good!