Bark Of The Pacific Madrone

Day 48: The Pacific Madrone, aka Madrona or Arbutus (Arbutus menziesii) is one of the easiest species to identify, thanks to its unusual habit of shedding its rusty orange colored outer bark each year, revealing new and distinctive chartreuse bark underneath. A species which prefers a coastal environment, this lovely tree is at the edge of its growing area at the point where this photo was taken. It bears red berries in late autumn, a favorite with many species of birds. The bark and leaves were used medicinally by tribal peoples in the coastal regions.

Basic Weaving

Day 47: I had forgotten how quickly weaving proceeds when using a floor loom as compared with a table loom where the raising and lowering of the harnesses is done with the hands as opposed to the feet! By bedtime last night, I had 15 inches done on the first of four 24-inch towels and I scarcely felt like I'd spent any time weaving at all. When using treadles, the beating of the threads can be accomplished simultaneously with the change of shed. The rhythm is very relaxing, and the clatter of the loom is a sound like no other, a pleasant and light rattle of metal heddles and merry clack of wood on wood. It is easy to lose track of time when engaged in this pursuit.

This is basic two-shed weaving. Heddle harnesses one and three are raised alternately with harnesses two and four, creating a simple over-and-under weave. Other patterns are possible with this threading if different treadles are depressed, the most recognizable being a basic twill, treadled 1-4, 1-2, 2-3, 3-4. We'll save pattern weaving for the next warp!

Sneak Preview

Day 46 (BONUS bonus edition!): Since I hope to do a live action video of this process tomorrow when the light is better, I decided to put up a sneak preview showing the beginning phases of the weaving project.

So far, we've been largely concerned with the warping of the loom. Now the weft (web) threads and the shuttles come into play. There is always a certain degree of draw-in at the selvages, and the blue threads seen at the bottom of the photo serve to establish the working width of the piece. They will be removed once the cloth is taken off the loom and a fringe will be tied with the warp ends. The "tails" at the color changes will be cut short, and once the piece has been fulled (washed to plump up the weaving threads), the joins will not be noticeable.

Fully Dressed Loom

Day 46 (bonus edition): With a full-sized floor loom taking up a third of my small crafts room, it's difficult to get an image showing the entire set-up. I thought I'd include this face-on shot of the loom fully dressed, including one of the shuttles I use for weaving. There are many different types of shuttle and weavers will argue for their favorite styles. The advantages of this type include ease of winding and low cost. On the flip side, the tips have a tendency to catch on warp threads and, if thrown too vigorously, can snap a thread.

Dressing The Loom

Day 46: Dressing the loom, i.e., threading the warp through the heddles and reed, is arguably the most painstaking portion of weaving. For the sake of discussion, my readers should know that my loom is a four-harness model. In other words, there are four frames holding wire heddles and raising these frames creates the "shed" through which the shuttle is thrown. In plain ("tabby") weave, the pattern the threads create in the finished cloth is a simple over-and-under. To achieve this, the threads are pulled through the heddles in numerical order, repeating across the width of the work. By raising the heddles in frames one and three alternately with those in frames two and four, the weave develops. If an error is made in threading the heddles while dressing the loom, the mistake will be evident in the fabric.

After the threads have been drawn through the heddles, they are also pulled through the reed, a rigid metal separator held in the beater bar. Again, strict order must be observed. Once the threading is completed, the warp bundles are tied off in front of the beater and the leash sticks are removed from the warp. The warp bundles are then tied to the cloth (front) roller keeping an even tension throughout.

The next step is what you've been waiting for: WEAVING!

Chicken Soup Warping Method

Day 45: Warping a loom is a process best done with an assistant. However, if you don't have one handy and are anxious to get started on a project, there is a simple work-around which, although time consuming, is quite effective. The number of cans you will need varies with the width of your warp, but the weights should be identical and from 12-16 ounces. There are several ways you can set them up. Here, I used duct tape, putting a loop at the mid-point to hold the warp bundles.

The warp is sectioned off and a can is suspended from each section, barely above floor level. When the full width is weighted, the weaver then winds the threads onto the back beam (or front, if you load the loom in the opposite manner) until the cans are directly below the breast beam but not touching it. The knots are undone and the cans are again attached just above floor level, allowing the weaver to wind approximately two feet of warp between adjustments. Sheets of paper or cardboard should be wound between layers of threads on the warp beam to help keep the tension uniform.

It is important to shake out the threads with each re-tie. Do not comb them with your fingers. Simply shake them and tug on them gently until the tension equalizes and they straighten out to lie in order in front of the leash sticks. Wind slowly and watch for any loose threads. If they appear, untie the cans and readjust. When the warp is fully wound onto the back beam, tie the ends to the front beam and go pour yourself a tall one.

Coming up next: sleying.

Raddling The Chain

Day 44: In a stroke of uncommon brilliance, it occurred to me that two lengths of nice, smooth PVC pipe would make excellent leash sticks to transfer the warp chain to the loom, better perhaps than the wooden ones I normally use. I also discovered that the raddle from my table loom might fit the back beam of the floor loom, although not to the full width. While it's possible to weave without a raddle, this accessory keeps the threads spread out to the width of the fabric being produced, making it easier to control unwanted draw-in.

The warp chain is formed as the threads are removed from the warping board. The weaver's hand and arm serve as a giant crochet hook pulling one loop after another up through the previous one. In the warping system I use, the end of the warp chain is attached to the back beam roller by means of a dowel. With the leash sticks holding the warp cross, the threads are then separated onto the raddle. The remaining chain is dropped down in front, wound onto the back beam, and then is ready to be cut and pulled through the individual wire heddles and reed dents in a process called sleying. Winding the chain onto the back beam is best done with an assistant, but can be achieved by weighting sections of warp with soup cans! Once the loom is sleyed, the warp sections are tied to the front (cloth) beam roller and weaving begins. "Neahly deh', Ernie! Take it away!"

Dawn Among Evergreens

Day 43: There is just a hint of dawn in the sky this morning, just a feathering of color along the tops of the clouds which so thickly hide the Mountain. But dawn light, however faint, is restorative. Were I in the backcountry, I would be sitting in the door of the tent, a cup of coffee clutched in mittened hands and the hood of my sleeping bag drawn up over my head as I watch the dawn creep into the sky, fading out one star after another until only the brightest remains. I would watch its blush of light wash the crags above my camp, watch it shimmer on the overnight scattering of frost crystals. But I am not in the wild high country. I am at home, and the beauty of dawn pierces the dark evergreens and sends its golden hope into my spirit.

Spinning Llama

Day 42: As I mention in the video, I spin with my hands reversed, the left one controlling the twist and the right separating and smoothing the fibers. Llama wool has a long, silky staple and is less oily than wool from sheep, at least when you're spinning "in the grease" (i.e., spinning unprocessed fibers). That said, I am spinning from sections pulled off a rolag (carded wool which has been formed into a long rope-like batt), and this wool has been cleaned.

Here I am creating a single-ply yarn with an S-twist. Once I have two spindles full, I will combine them for a two-ply yarn using a Z-twist, reversing the direction of the spinning wheel's rotation.

220 Ends

Day 41: The first step in setting up a piece of weaving is to measure out the warp threads. A common way this is done is by using a warping board such as the one shown here. By winding the threads around some pegs and skipping others, almost any measurement can be achieved up to the capacity of the board. This model will hold threads up to 14 yards in length. 220 ends make up this 15-foot warp. It will be sleyed at 12 dents to the inch. The fibers are cotton and the end result will be four hand towels in a simple tabby weave (over-and-under) with red cross-stripes near each of the fringed ends.

The most labour-intensive part of weaving is in the next step: sleying the loom. Each thread end must be drawn through a heddle with a hook, carefully keeping the order in which they were wound on the warping board. Then it's just a matter of sitting down and throwing a shuttle back and forth, beating the thread in place after each throw. The shuttle is propelled back and forth, back and forth through each shed as the weaver rhythmically raises and lowers the harnesses with the treadles. The clatter of a loom in operation is almost hypnotic, and listening to it is a very pleasant way to spend those rainy winter days.

Water Ouzel - Dipper

Day 40: Little Dipper is a happy sort, and hard to catch when he's holding still. He dances when he's perching, bobbing up and down almost as regularly as a second hand ticks on a clock. He's also an amazing diver and swimmer! He will disappear into a rapidly flowing creek, emerging half a minute later at some point upstream.

Cinclus mexicanus (also known as Water Ouzel) is a fairly common sight in upland creeks and streams in the Pacific Northwest and tends to be solitary. I was somewhat surprised to find two at the local kids' fishing pond today when I went down to survey the floodwaters in the Mashell. The rain was pouring down, but these birds were as happy as could be among the drops and splashes. I'm glad someone enjoys the rain!

You Don't Se!

Day 39: Stewart's Meats is on the wrong side of the road as I'm heading into Yelm, and that's the approach you must be taking to spot this rather incongruous sign. Not wanting to block traffic while waiting to turn across the road, I always go on by, saying, "I'll get it on my way home." And then, naturally, I forget. Today, I turned into the first side road and went back after it, braving the hordes of turducken seekers filling the parking lot.

You si, it should properly read "Se habla español." You se the word a little differently than you would se "si" ("if" or "whether"), and you say it differently than you would se "sí" ("yes"). I am truly confused by the meaning of this, although I certainly can sí the humour in it.

Missus In Winter

Day 38: In their first year of matrimonial bliss, Mister and Missus failed to raise any offspring. This is not an uncommon issue with first-time parents, although it was a sad situation from my point of view. However, Ravens mate for life and the breeding season is just beginning now. I've been listening to the advertising calls of at least six birds coming from different points of the compass all at once, one of the largest populations I've had in the twenty-odd years observing them in this location.

Mister and Missus have staked out my feeding station once again, and this morning arrived together for a breakfast of dog kibble steeped in bacon grease. Missus is the more cautious of the two, often remaining on the fence post to await the treats brought from the board by her bolder mate. Even so, the two of them often play hide-and-seek with me between the rails of the fence in an "I can see you but you can't see me" game. Their caution around me is minimal. They allow me to slide open the door and step out onto the back porch while they're feeding even if they see the camera in my hands. They only fly off if a glint of light sparkles off the lens, or if a Jay gives out a warning call.

Suspend Your Disbelief

Day 37: I had to laugh when I got this photo into the computer. I hadn't noticed that a pile of snow on a branch below my little Junco friend had entered into the lower portion of the image. The vignetting which occurred here is entirely natural, the product of depth of field. Junco seems as surprised by his photographic suspension in mid-air as I was when I threw back the drapes this morning and discovered almost a foot of snow on the ground. At bedtime last night, the forecast read, "Less than an inch of accumulation is expected."

Snow Song

Day 36: Oh dear! It's almost time to start addressing Christmas cards! I love to have snow falling and a fire in the gas fireplace during this annual task, setting the mood, filling the room with a homey ambience while outdoors, the small birds of winter flit in and out of the feeders. Today, the snow took us all by surprise, and Stickpin Sparrow (Song Sparrow) sat on the contorted filbert speaking his mind in a series of annoyed chirps. His mood lifted sharply once he saw me deliver fresh seed to the trays, and soon he was joined by Juncoes, Jays and a Towhee. Such a cheerful and bright little fellow, despite his drab colors! Maybe he can help me with the holiday greetings by lending his portrait to my cards.

Strange Woodland Creatures

Day 35: Well, it's been a while since I did any geocaching, so today I decided to pick up the three hides closest to home. The first one was uninspired, a tube containing a sheet of log paper stuffed in the end of a guardrail. No surprises there. I think if you checked guardrails in your area, you'd find geocaches every 528' (the distance Geocaching.com established as being the minimum from another cache). The second was a dubious placement: a decent cache, but I could almost guarantee that the cacher who put it there neglected to ask permission, and the coordinates were off. The third...well, this photo shows me at the third.

Every now and then, someone comes up with some cute, clever, innovative, unusual or otherwise memorable idea for a hide. This one certainly qualifies. It was hidden in young reprod forest, only a few feet from the road and almost invisible where it was sunk in a small hollow. I had been looking for something like a pile of sticks behind a stump, so spotted the bright purple lid of the container first. Then as my gaze lifted, I burst out laughing. It's amazing what you can miss when your focus is fine-tuned to seek something else.

Steller's Jay

Day 34: The first real storm of the season has blustered in, and I was not venturing farther than the back porch this morning as I watched the dogwood tree being stripped of its leaves, red and green alike torn from the branches and swept across the yard. The small birds were in hiding. Only the Steller's jays and the ravens were about. Where the crows might have been was anyone's guess. There was not a caw to be heard in answer to my announcement of breakfast on the board. The jays made short work of four cups of dog kibble, carrying off the nuggets and stashing them for later retrieval. There's wisdom in that, wisdom which makes me think it might have been wise to lay in a few more groceries before the snow flies this weekend.

Carpe Diem, Carpe Carpem

Day 33: I had an appointment in Yelm this morning, so left early in order to spend some time at my favorite duck pond in Cochrane Park. Once previously, I'd encountered a Great Blue Heron there, perched on the rail surrounding a small observation platform. Fishermen come here as well to try their skill at catching the grass carp which have been planted in the pond to control weed growth. The regulations specify "catch and release only," but Mr. Heron doesn't abide by the rules.

This morning, he was intent on breakfast. From the far side of the pond, I took several photos and saw him make one dive into the water, emerging fishless and returning to his position on the corner of the dock railing. I walked slowly around the pond, hoping to get a better view before he flew off. I needn't have worried! Not only did he stay on watch for a hapless fish, he kept his back to me as if he didn't know I was there. I took this photo from about ten feet away. Even when I spoke to him, he only turned his head long enough to give me the woolly eyeball and then resumed his breakfast vigil.

Bamboo

Day 32: The old Eatonville Dispatch building stands abandoned now, its yellow and blue paint peeling and fading, and this stand of bamboo seems determined to take over the sidewalk from its stronghold in a small unpaved square beside the door. It is an ornamental variety common in garden stores, reputed to be non-invasive given a gardener's reasonable efforts to control it. No such gardener exists here. Its roots have begun to erode the concrete at the edges of its confines and a few pioneer tendrils are sprouting in the cracks. Its strength is to be admired, along with its tenacity.

Ganesha

Day 31: This figure of Ganesha belonged to my mother, one of several dozen representations of him which she had in her home, and one of the largest. It was one of her favorites because in addition to the deity, it depicts his rat, a symbol of abundance and good fortune. According to one version of the legend, Ganesha obtained his elephant's head when his father Shiva became jealous of his mother Parvati's attentions to the boy and beheaded him. Later, in a moment of regret, Shiva replaced his son's head with that of an elephant. Ganesha is also known as the Remover of Obstacles and as such, was often propitiated with incense, flowers and sweets. Here, I have surrounded him with a metallic brocade and strings of exotic beads as my mother once kept flowers by his side.

Grandpa's Little Black Cat

Day 30: My maternal grandfather loved cats. On the other hand, my grandmother would not allow them in the house, so Grandpa's collection of strays lived in the garage and under the back step, every morning lining up for their breakfast and Grandpa's personal attention. He would often be seen carrying a cat or two under his arms or over a shoulder, clearly loved as much by his feline friends as he loved them.

Lest anyone think my grandmother hard-hearted in this regard, she held nothing in particular against cats. She simply felt that their place was out-of-doors. I'm sure she would have issued an equivalent proscription against a dog as well. In fact, Grandma had a beautiful ceramic cat, still in my possession, somewhat battered and missing portions of both ears, a larger version of Grandpa's little black cat shown here. Both ceramic cats enjoyed the comforts of the family hearth.

Today, I admit a partiality to black cats, moreso since learning that at shelters, they are the least likely to be adopted. Perhaps the reasoning behind that is the same as that behind the superstition surrounding them: they're hard to see in the dark.

Button Box

Day 29: From my own tin of buttons memories arise, scented with lavender as I open my grandmother’s button box in my mind’s eye. Inside are treasures executed in marcasite, carved of bone and ivory, stamped in metal, and studded with rhinestones chipped and dulled. If some match, it’s happenstance, for they have been gleaned from worn dresses and frayed shirtcuffs, separated from their kin and applied to different garments until many have been orphaned as result. I, a small child, sift them through my fingers, and the lavender pervades.

I know they had stories to tell, but I was young and not interested in histories when I had them in my hands. Some may have belonged to Old-old, the great-grandmother who sewed meticulous quilts with her bent, arthritic fingers. Did she smell of lavender? My sense of her is dim. The buttons smelled of Yardley’s, and so clearly is my grandmother illustrated by that scent that I cannot separate its fragrance from her image.

The room is dimly lit, a bedroom, and the precious box of buttons has been opened as a rare and special pleasure. They tumble out upon the thick bedspread, falling helter-skelter like a scattering of runes unread. Two draw me. One is an obvious choice for a child: a “diamond” set in black Bakelite. The other is broken, unique among its fellows and a riddle: why is it there, preserved in its uselessness? The child does not formulate the question in the button, and its answer is lost in dead years. I touch each one, carefully and separately, to acknowledge its individual presence. I am baptized as an animist at the ripe old age of four, and the souls of buttons address me with a quote from lavender.

My grandmother gathers the existential buttons and returns them to their box. I will see them only once again in life.

Swofford Pond

Day 28: Swofford Pond is one of my favorite drive-to places. For one thing, I like to fish there, but I also enjoy hiking the 1.25 mile (one way) South Swofford Wetland Trail which nearly always holds some natural beauty for my camera lens. Today, the reward came before the hike began, striking gold with this small maple and the beautiful sky and reflection behind it. The northside shoreline is unspoiled by development, offering a number of spots for fishermen to pull over and sit comfortably on the bank. Combustion motors are not permitted, so other than the occasional car going by, the silence is such that you can hear voices in normal conversation halfway down the lake.

A Lesson In Logger Grammar

Day 27: Seen at two ends of a little road which is less than a quarter mile long, these signs bring up a question of grammar: if you are a woodsman who uses an axe or saw to take down timber, are you a faller or a feller? It turns out the answer is not as clear-cut (~cough!~ forgive me, it slipped out) as you might think.

A feller (fellow) who fells or falls trees is either a faller or a feller, depending on the custom of his particular area. In this case, the jury seems to have stilll been out on the subject, but as I was taking the photo, I definitely heard the sound of timber falling...CRASH!...and it was preceded by the sound made by someone using a chainsaw to fell a tree...WHRRRRRRRRRRRR! The felling preceded the falling, at least in one interpretation. Grammatically, I don't think it would have worked quite as well the other way around.

So now the question remains: does the feller who falls trees fill trucks any fuller than the faller who fells trees fills them? Sigh. It's all so confusing, I simply can't foller it at all.

The Mountain Rises

Day 26: There are few places in western Washington where you can find a view of Mt. Rainier unimpeded by telephone lines and poles and unmarred by human construction without committing some form of trespass, however minor it might be. A certain bend in a quiet dead-end road which arcs around the south side of Lawrence Lake is one of them. You may have to reach up tall and hold the camera above your head to keep the blackberry vines from invading the lower portion of the frame, but you have the liberty of time for few folk other than the residents ever pass this way. There is no McMansion hogging this view, only a tumbledown old stone cottage, now overgrown with ivy so heavily that the structure is almost completely engulfed but for its empty windows. And stranger yet, the homes further on are not particularly elegant, but then, they do not have the view and face the lake instead. One wonders why developers haven't exploited this corner of beauty, spoiling it for the rest of us. For now, we can be thankful that it is nearly as pristine as it was when the Longmires settled in the area a hundred and more years ago.

Red Coral, Ramaria Araiospora

Day 25: Let's settle one thing right now: other than a slight adjustment to brightness and contrast (and I'm talking very minor), this image has not been retouched, and it had the precise effect of a stoplight in the forest when I spotted it. I checked up short and said, "WHAT the **** is THAT?!?!?"

I have identified this as Ramaria araiospora, a member of the family of coral fungi. As such, it is not common. There were several colonies of it growing in one area just off the Trail of the Shadows at Longmire, but none as shockingly visible as this specimen. It is the first of its kind that I have encountered, although other corals occur quite frequently in our forests. Purportedly edible, I would never dream of picking such an unusual species.

White On White Memory

Day 24 (double feature): If you have ever lived with a psitticine bird, you will know exactly what I mean when I say that it's an unforgettable experience. You quickly realize that you, mere human that you are, are not nearly as smart as you thought you were. Imagine if you will a perpetual four-year old genius with a mischievous sense of humour and a penchant for playing jokes. Limit this creature only by taking away its opposable thumbs. Imbue it with a talent for mechanical engineering and an undeniably endearing personality. Give it some knowledge of speech, and accept that its reasoning capacities are at least equal to if not greater than your own.

Having lived with a selection of parrots over the course of my life, my husband suggested getting a Cockatoo when his special friend Carlo passed from the Earth. Carlo was "Papa's Parrot!" and would tell you so volubly, as if you had any doubt, and tolerated me only in Papa's absence. We got along fine as long as Bruce wasn't around, but Carlo became very possessive as soon as he walked through the door. However, things changed when Cocoa entered our lives. He was a trusting little fellow who greeted all and sundry with the same cheerful love, but it was to me that he attached himself most firmly.

He has been gone a number of years, and the memories I hold of him are strong and precious...the visits to my fishing buddy's where he ate neatly from the bowl of pistachio nuts on the kitchen counter, returning each empty shell to the dish...imitating me in applying mayonnaise to artichoke leaves even though it meant a walk around from the other side of the table...trying to fly off with a newly opened can of tomato sauce...making himself purposefully dizzy by spinning on the kitchen scale and then going all silly when he tried to effect the drunkard's walk along the narrow space in front of the sink.

He did not have an erect crest as many Cockatoos do. Being a Goffin, the long feathers on his head lay flat against it until something provoked his curiosity. Then he would raise it, revealing a peach-pink base which was invisible when it was recumbent. We called it his "Question Mark," for such was the duty it served, and this feather, treasured among my possessions, is one query from a bright child who is now a memory.

Hard Frost

Day 24: Brrrrr! Got up this morning to 27° in the yard and everything covered in a delicate tracery of frost. It wasn't unexpected. Looking out the window at this moment, I see snow on the clearcut, deeper on the ridges behind it where it still clings to the boughs of the evergreens. It's been there for a few days, and temperatures are not encouraging it to leave.

The deciduous trees are shedding their red and gold garments with some haste now, anxious to divest themselves of ice catchers and snow scoops. A little gust sets a shower of crimson flying from the dogwood. If the frost persists, the brush line across the road will quickly be a network of bare branches, wooden lace ready to be starched with snow.

Rainey Creek Nature Walk

Day 23: For the last several weeks, I have been spending as much time on the trail as possible, knowing that the snow would soon be coming to my favorite hiking areas, and I do not enjoy driving in snow. Looking out the window this morning, I could see a clear white demarcation on the hills only a few hundred feet above my elevation, so any thought of going up to Longmire was quickly shelved. I decided instead to take a short walk on the old gated road which leads to Rainey Creek.

At Rainey Creek, the road terminates abruptly and becomes a footpath crossing a sturdy metal bridge. Beyond the bridge, the way opens out into an acre of grassland, the trail following the edge until it reaches forest on the opposite side. It passes over another smaller creek there, debouches into grassland again for a few hundred yards and then climbs into timber for the remainder of its transit through the Cowlitz Wildlife Area. A gate on the opposite end likewise prevents vehicles from entering from the paved haul road. I seldom see anyone on this little-known nature walk, and today it was apparent that no foot had disturbed the carpet of leaves for quite some time. A chill was in the air, so I turned back shortly beyond little Rainey Creek, scuffing through a precipitation of alder leaves with joyous abandon.

Threads Of Childhood

Day 22: In the garment of my life, the threads of childhood have worn thin and few remain. Of these, books are what I treasured most dearly, and preserved with care for lo, these many years.

"The Churkendoose" is a social lesson, poor Churkendoose unaccepted by the other barnyard fowl because he was of mixed parentage.

"Well, I'm not a Chicken, and I'm not a Duck.
I have more brains than I have luck.
I'm not a Turkey, and I'm not a Goose.
Can't you see? I'm a Churkendoose!"

and a repeating refrain of

"Can't you like me just because I'm me?"

He gains the other animals' admiration when he saves them from a fox.

"The Color Kittens" Hush and Brush painted the world in all the colors we know today. Short on green,

"they wanted green paint, of course, because nearly every place they liked to go was green."

They finally accomplished their task and then, frisky kittens that they were, they got a bit too pouncy and spilled all the paint together, making brown.

"And in all that brown, the sun went down. It was evening and the colors began to disappear in the warm dark night." The text is a presentation of color theory at a child's level and the illustrations are delightful.

Still Life With Peppers

Day 21: I love Mexican food, and I am one of the world's worst cooks. No, the truth of it is that I just don't enjoy cooking. If it takes more than five minutes and one pan, it's simply too much bother to make, therefore I'm always looking for good recipes which can be made quickly and simply.

A good friend often serves as a judge in Chili Cookoffs, so I asked her if she had a recipe for Chili Verde, one of my favorite restaurant dishes. She directed me to a website where I could pick and choose from several in the hopes of finding something I could adapt to make in a Crock-Pot. Call it a lucky guess, but the first one I tried turned out exactly like the Chili Verde I enjoy at our local Puerto Vallarta restaurant. The green chilis you see here (plus a few more) are destined to participate in the next batch. The red bell peppers will be stuffed for a different meal.

Toxic Beauty

Day 20: The Amanita family of mushrooms holds what are arguably the most beautiful but also the most deadly fungi. If not fatal within a few days of ingestion, the alkaloids contained within many varieties can be seriously deleterious to long-term health. These toxins do not break down and are stored in the liver. Although Amanitas which resemble our North American types are gathered for consumption in much of Europe, here there is a strict rule of thumb: "Do-not-eat-a Amanita." The reasons for the variance in toxicity are still under debate in the scientific community

Amanita muscaria (shown in the image) gained fame and notoriety as a hallucinogen during the Hippie Era. In many cases, the potential toxic effects of the alkaloids, ignored for the instant gratification of a "high," did not appear for years. Symptoms often begin with a patient showing evidence of jaundice and a deeper case history reveals use of hallucinogenic mushrooms forty years previous.

Mushrooms are nothing to mess around with. If you are not 105% certain that a species is edible, do not sample it and do not allow it to come into contact with known edibles in your collection basket.

A Few Bolts Away From Warp Speed

Day 19: Funny how something which took fifteen minutes to disassemble can take four hours to put back together again. That's what you get for not taking pictures of each stage of the dismantling.

Although I made one trip to the hardware store during the reassembly, we're still a few bolts away from warp speed, but other than that and tying up the treadles, the loom is fully operational at this point. It was another gift from the benevolent woman who presented me with an antique spinning wheel a few days ago. Given the condition of the wheel, I'd reserved judgment on accepting the loom until I'd had a chance to look at it. Yesterday, when I saw that it was both modern and in good condition, I was thrilled. However, this is no small object! The two of us couldn't have lifted it ourselves even if I'd had a truck big enough to haul it, so I took it apart to transport. In the process of loading it into my car, the order of pieces was disrupted for the sake of packing, and in the case of the base and apron rollers, pieces rotated until they were not in their original configuration. When I got them all spread out in the living room, it was obvious that I had an engineering project for the day.

There were a few errors and a few cusswords, a barked knuckle or two, a banged head when I raised up under the beater, lost washers and nuts which rolled away under the desk, and of course the layout of my crafts room had to be revised to accommodate its newest resident. Now the loom is the focal point, and I am most certainly looking forward to a winter of weaving.