The Last Day Of The Year

Day 79: Today was the day. I officially turned "two" today...

...as in "two old!"

Happy New Year, everyone! May your coming year be filled with the love of friends and family!

Paisley Geode

Day 78: After my father passed away when I was still very young, my mother struggled to make ends meet and seldom succeeded. She took in laundry or did other housework, but we had little budget for food, let alone for frivolities. Christmas and my birthday were scant, although she always attempted to find something for me to enjoy rather than merely purchasing some necessity like clothing.

One of her regular employers had a lapidary shop and, like most kids would be, I was fascinated by the extraordinary rocks and minerals on the shelves, but of all the showy specimens on display, one geode ("thunderegg") attracted me most of all. I loved paisleys, and where it had been sliced, the saw had passed through a nodule of drusy pale amethyst, revealing a distinct paisley shape in the cut. Another similar specimen sat beside it, and both bore pricetags which even as a child I knew were out of my mother's reach.

I drooled over garnets and fool's gold crystals, I pawed through slices of agate and jasper each time my mother dropped off freshly pressed shirts at the shop, always returning to the shelf where the two geodes rested. As my 11th birthday approached, my mom asked me what I'd like. Only one thing sprang to mind: the paisley geode.

I remember distinctly that it was the cheaper of the two, and that my mother told me I could have the more expensive, larger one if I really wanted it. I declined in favor of the paisley. My mom passed $3.50 across the counter and the paisley geode was mine. As I think back now, that was one of the best birthdays ever.

Cat Nap

Day 77: He wiggles. He bounces. He runs full tilt, knocking over furniture in his wake. He hides in his tunnel, waiting for someone to tickle his tummy, whereupon he goes all silly and squirms like a gallon of angleworms which know they're about to be fishbait, and then he takes off at a lope to smack the ball in its plastic racetrack or to leap into a window, wide-eyed and ready to spring. He'll grab an ankle to get your attention and be out of sight before you can turn, or hit the kitchen linoleum as if he was coming in for a home run, sliding across the plate on a hip and an elbow. He's my Boy, my Tip, and he has more energy than a nuclear plant until he's ready for love and a nap. Then he's all purrs and weight...heavy!...an electric cat-blanket recharging his batteries at full stop, plugged into the comfort of a lap.

The Spell Of The Backwoods

Day 76: I drive by this sign fairly often since it's on the way to the train yards at Mineral and finally decided today that it had to be documented for posterity. If you'll look carefully, you can see a bit of twine which allows the lower portion to be flipped up on its hinges and secured in place. When visible, it bears the mysterious legend, "CLOSE."

Now upon initial consideration, you might be forgiven for believing that to be a misspelling of "CLOSED." However, the "garadge sale" is rarely open. In fact, it was not open today. If "CLOSE" is not displayed when merchandise is unavailable for purchase, "CLOSE" must therefore refer to something other than not being open. I rather suspect that t-shirts and blue jeans fall into the category of "CLOSE," a circumstance which, if accurate, makes me want to take a different route to Mineral for the sake of my serenity.

Spring Dreams

Day 75: The weather forecast is gruesome: heavy rain followed by rain followed by possible snow, ten days (or more) of certain stay-inside climate without a chance of reprieve, and thus my mind turns to a fervent belief in the coming of Spring, however long it's going to take. The little birds will be chirping, making nests, raising families; the flowers will bud and burst into bloom; the pasture will spring up with fresh growth and the elk will come down to browse the new grass, and the rain and the dreary grey days will become fewer and fewer until we almost wish for one to stop by as a reminder of how it was in winter. It's coming. I do believe. I really do.

From Wool To Yarn

Day 74: While the Christmas festivities have been going on, a wet llama has been hanging in my shower. The first skein of double-ply llama wool came off the wheel a few days ago and was wound on the warping board to give an even tension. Measuring out at 278 yards, it was put to soak in warm water until it was thoroughly saturated, then stretched between two rods top and bottom. The lower rod was weighted until any kinks straightened, and then it was left to dry with occasional rotations to evenly set the twist. The final result is a deliciously soft sport weight yarn for which I have no particular project in mind at present. I'll give that more serious thought when the second skein is completed!

Transition To Memory

Day 73: It's over. The excitement, the anticipation, the stress...the wrapping, the mailing, the unwrapping...the baking, the eating, the partying...it's over. Christmas 2011 is on its way to the Halls of Memory, divested of its trappings and its bows and bells, trailing behind it a wake of torn paper and snarled ribbons and a tummyache or two. And who amongst us cannot admit to a certain sense of relief at its exit, for all we enjoyed its coming? Farewell to you, season! See you next year!

Christmas Greetings

Day 72: Wishing my readers the very best for the holiday season! May your hearths and hearts be filled with the warmth of fellowship and family, and may the magic of the season be yours in everything you do.

Hugs,
Crow and the kitties

It Sounds Like Christmas

Day 71: The gifts have all been wrapped and the cards mailed, the baking is done, so what's left to do before Christmas? Well, d'uh! It's time to rattle packages, of course! Who can resist those mysterious and beautiful presents beneath the tree? Some are wrapped in paper, others are hidden within exquisite fabrics, a tradition of exchange between three friends who call themselves sisters of the heart. The brocade and print bags circulate among us on Christmas and on birthdays, sometimes returning to the creator with a gift inside or even being taken out of the round-robin for another friend to enjoy. It is a custom which lends a wonderful Dickensian ambience to the season, an old-fashioned warmth which hearks back to candles on the tree and a fire laid on the hearth.

Star Trek Lives!

Day 70 (bonus edition): Star Trek lives! And here's the proof, right down to the famous communicator shape broadcast on the sky by some mysterious means. Is the Enterprise going to land in the pasture? Are the Klingons invading? Or are those just ordinary flying saucers out for a solstice ride above Mt. Rainier? Personally, I can't think of a better place on Earth to visit!

Symbol Of Solstice

Day 70: The use of both mistletoe and holly as Yuletide decorations dates back to the time of the Druids. Both plants' evergreen nature led them to be considered sacred, keepers of the force of Life. Mistletoe was traditionally harvested only with a sickle made of gold, and was not allowed to touch the ground in its transit from tree to home. There, it was hung above a doorway as a guard against illness and to ensure good fortune in the coming year.

Mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and contrary to popular belief, grows not only on oak but on several different species of trees including Douglas Fir and Western Hemlock. The berries are poisonous. However, the mistletoe shown in this image is a perpetual variety, created in Fimo modelling clay.

Solstice Greetings

Day 69 (bonus edition): The winter solstice occurs at 12:30 AM PST, a bit too early for the Crow to be out of bed, so let me run slightly ahead of schedule to wish all my friends and followers the best as the light lengthens our days. It is the turning of the year according to the ancient calendar, and a time for great rejoicing.

Dance the holly,
Dance the mistletoe!
The Light is now returning
And dark nights quickly go!

Snowberries

Day 69: Snowberries (Symphoricarpos albus) go largely unnoticed throughout most of the year. They are bushy, greyish-green leaves quite effectively hiding small and nondescript white flowers, and are common along lowland roads and trails. In winter, however, their beauty becomes strikingly apparent as the fruits swell and form clusters along the branches. The berries are purportedly poisonous (animals and birds do not consume them) although Native peoples used them sparingly as a carminative. The fruits are pithy and contain small seeds inside a firm skin which has delighted countless generations of children as something to be popped.

Bird's-Eye Diamonds

Day 68: At the end of the second pastel striped placemat, I decided it was time for a shift of gears in the weaving department. Selecting a weft thread which more closely matched the warp in weight, I changed from a sequence using six treadlings to one using fourteen. The resultant pattern clearly shows how "bird's-eye" got its name, the nested diamonds each looking like the eye of a bird. It requires a little more concentration to prevent mistakes, but any error becomes apparent quickly as the diamonds fail to close properly. A good weaver keeps an eye on the fabric! Both faces of this pattern are identical, making it ideal for towels or washrags which will be fringed upon completion.

Smokey Wears Two...No, Four...Hats

Day 67: Smokey Bear, that iconic symbol of the National Forest Service (as opposed to the National Park Service, a different entity entirely), has gone and got himself all gussied up for Christmas! I was driving by too fast to pull off at Rocky Point last week when I first spotted his new hat...make that "hats." I rather suspect the hosts at the nearby Tacoma Power and Light campground were responsible for his divergence from standard dress code. In any event, someone was fortunate to find a Santa hat which would fit over his customary four-dent ranger's campaign lid. Today, I made a point of catching him from both sides, discovering as I did so that both layers had individual chapeaux. I rather like the rakish look of the pompom over the eye, don't you?

Potions

Day 66: In order to have gift potpourris as fresh as possible for Christmas giving, I waited until yesterday to add fragrance to a mixture of commercially purchased eucalyptus, scavenged yew and sweetfern (Comptonia peregrina) from my own garden. Included in the scents are additional eucalyptus (a mood-lifter and congestion reliever), lavender (likewise beneficial) and fir needle (a relaxant aroma), a formula which blends nicely despite the eucalyptus' strong note. These scents will last for several months without needing a refresher dose of essential oils, and the floral bits, already dried, will keep for many years to come.

Shuttles And Stripes

Day 65: In between Christmas baking, gift-wrapping and so on, I am managing to put a few inches on the current weaving project each evening. It progresses a bit more slowly than the hand towels I took off the loom two weeks ago, but nevertheless, I am nearly done with a second placemat of eight. At this point, I have not decided if I will make more using the same weft pattern or even the same threads. That's one of the greatest joys of weaving traditional bird's-eye: the versatility. Given this threading, fifteen different treadlings resulting in attractive designs are available to me. A small change in weight of weft can further expand the resultant appearance of the finished cloth.

I Can Has Bokeh!

Day 64 (bonus edition): Today, I bought a string of colored lights as a motivation for improving my woefully poor skills at bokeh. After dinner, I got the set-up in place: lights hanging across the vanity mirror on the far end of the room from the Christmas tree, tripod stationed next to the tree, table with the lighted ornament at approximately a third of the distance from camera to the string of lights, a 20-watt halogen off to its right to bring out the snowflakes on the glass. After several revisions to the bouquet of bokeh, I was ready. With one hand on the shutter button and the other blocking an unwanted hot spot on one of the glass tree's branches, I then began trying to capture a specific phase of color as the light in the globe cycled from blue through gold. Only in the late shift from blue to magenta are the bump "ornaments" visible as red dots on the boughs. This was definitely a case of trying to achieve several things at once, and finally I am happy with a bokeh creation of my own.

Good Fortune In All Your Houses

Day 64: In Balinese culture, the winged frog is a symbol of good luck. Figures such as this one were popular in import shops twenty years ago, and because my mother was something of a frog fanatic, my husband and I gave her this large one to hang in her window. We purchased a smaller Christmas ornament in the same style for ourselves. When my mother passed away, I kept a few of her favorite frog representations including this one which now hangs in the archway between my living room and kitchen. May he bring all my readers good fortune and prosperity in the coming year!

Whittler's Bird

Day 63: As do most people who spend any amount of time alone in an isolated environment, as a backpacker who would often go off for two weeks at a time into trailless wilderness, I needed and wanted something to keep my hands and mind busy while I sat around camp after the day's adventures. You can only play so many games of solitaire before it loses its appeal, and no matter how many hours I practiced, my talent at the harmonica never seemed to improve. Thus it was that I started carrying around a small chunk of basswood to keep my Swiss Army knife company.

As I've mentioned before, the ornaments on my Christmas tree are largely carved wooden birds salvaged from the ends of commercially produced swizzle sticks. I wanted to make a few of my own to add to the flock. My first attempts were blocky and a far cry from artistic, but as my hands grew accustomed to the way the knife followed the grain of the wood, I learned to "go with the flow" rather than trying to fight it. Eventually, I was able to turn out a passin' decent bird for the tree.

Carving, however, was not done at home except rarely when I was close to finishing up a piece. It was always saved for "camp days," and more often than not, a single bird took two backpacking seasons to complete. This little fellow was one of the last I carved while sitting beside a stream I can no longer reach. He is a bird of memories, his spirit that of alpine wildflowers and the scent of whitebark pine.

Iced Up At Siler's Pond

Day 62: Siler's Pond isn't much bigger than a bathtub. It's set in a little hollow right off the south side of Highway 12, but unless you know where to look, you could easily miss it as you drove by. As a matter of fact, only a handful of people pay it any mind at all: fishermen.

You wouldn't expect it to be stocked, but it is. Each spring, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife pulls up alongside the guard rail on Highway 12 and lowers a very short chute over the edge. When the spill gate is opened, a gush of fish and water jets down the hillside some sixty feet or more, with most of the fish making it all the way to the pond. There, most of them are quickly fished out by the folks "in the know" because they're easy pickin's or are hooked and released by others like myself . However, there are always a few holdovers from the stock of 8-10" "catchables" which in a year or two may grow to 16-18," and a few fish actually make it on downstream to lead long and productive lives in Riffe Lake.

Birds And Boughs

Day 61: It will probably come as no surprise to my readers that my Christmas tree is decorated largely with birds. Most of them are painted wood, a collection I gathered in an import shop many years ago. They were mounted on the ends of cocktail swizzle sticks. I simply sawed them off, filled any gaps with wood putty and painted over the mend. In a few cases where the color defeated my best attempts to match it, I repainted the entire bird.

However, it is not the wooden birds which are the subject of this photo. The song "Silver and Gold" invariably comes to my lips as I place a small selection of metal baubles on the tree: three embossed birds in flight and acorns (to feed the birds, of course).

"Silver and gold, silver and gold!
Everyone wishes for silver and gold.
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On every Christmas tree."

Holiday Finery

Day 60: Throughout December and January, my assorted Zygocacti put on quite a show. This yellow one is my favorite, and it almost sneaked its blooming period past me unnoticed.

Y'see, the Zygos live on a window shelf in my back bedroom (now known as the "weaving room"). There, they have good exposure to sunlight, as well as cooler temperatures owing to the fact that I have the heat register for that room nearly closed. The combination is exactly what these cacti require: cool nights and good sun. Give them those two things and a little fertilizer now and then, and they'll reward you lavishly.

So why did I nearly miss Yellow's flowers? He slipped them down behind the back edge of the shelf! I happened to spot one bud on a shorter branch and then discovered several spent blooms hidden below. Now he's out in the living room where I can enjoy them. The blooms following this one will be less pink as the plant adjusts to lower light levels.

Bubble Light Bokeh

Day 59 (bonus edition): The Bubble Tree is older than I am. It has been radically reconstructed and all that remains of the original is the armature on which the greenery is wound, but the memories it carries have given it a spirit which surpasses its physical presence, recollections which rise in my mind with each bubble in the illuminated columns. It is a special part of my Christmas, lighted only a few times each year. Tonight, it stands merrily bubbling on the mirrored vanity, the Christmas tree reflected in the background. Tonight, the Bubble Tree has the center of the stage.

Pik-pik Writes To Santa

Day 59: When Mom peeked in on little Pik-pik to see what he was doing with the pencil and notepad he'd borrowed from her cupboard, this is what she read: "Dear Santa, I would really like a tree house and some bugs for my mom. Thanks!" Now isn't he a sweet little fellow to remember her?

We do not have cardinals in Washington, and I am terribly envious of East Coast friends who have them at their feeders, but despite the lack of them in our forests, I have several who come to my Christmas tree and mantelpiece, remaining only one month before migrating elsewhere. Mom was here for several years before little Pik-pik came along, but the two of them have remained together ever since.

T. P. Hunter's Conquest

Day 58: His real name is Tip, nicknamed for Tipperary, but it could well have been T. P. Hunter and still have been Tip for short. He has a memory like an elephant, and he is a ferocious predator.

First evidence of his hunting skills surfaced while he was still quite young. I came home one day to find the toilet paper unrolled from its spindle and strewn all over the hallway. No stranger to foiling cats who pursue this sport, I simply turned the roll around and let the tag end hang down the back. It took him only a few days to learn to grab it with his teeth instead of spinning it with a paw, and I lost another roll in tatters.

Phase Two involved putting the roll in a coffee can on the counter. It baffled him briefly until he learned to put his chin in the center hole so his fangs would sink into the soft tissue. Clearly, I had to figure out a way to out-think T. P. Hunter, and fast! I put a lid on the coffee can, but that proved to be a terrible nuisance for the human user.

Then I struck on a brainstorm. I set a cookie sheet full of marbles on the counter, placed the coffee can in the middle of it. The next time T. P. Hunter went hunting, the rolling marbles foiled him neatly. I knew, of course, that one encounter wouldn't be adequate training, so for a year or so, that's where the roll remained: in a coffee can on a cookie sheet filled with marbles on my bathroom counter. Guests were often baffled by the arrangement.

There came a point when I felt the training period was over. I removed the tray of marbles and left the t.p. in the coffee can. I assumed that T. P. Hunter had learned his lesson well. I was wrong.

Today, the upturned page of a catalog piqued his interest, and lo and behold, what else did he find? An unattended and partially used roll, easy prey for an expert! The remains were discovered somewhat later, spread from bathroom to bedroom and T. P. Hunter sitting in the bedroom doorway looking extremely pleased with himself.

Mountain Moonlight

Day 57 (bonus edition): It is not quite full, this Moon, but tomorrow night, it will rise too late to couple with the alpenglow. Tonight, the Mountain's faint radiance played a counterpoint to its cold light. Tonight, Mountain and Moon were players on the same stage. Tomorrow, clouds permitting, the Moon will own the sky.

Crow's Crockpot Chili Verde

Day 57: With few exceptions, I do not enjoy cooking, and for the most part, I think eating is a horrible waste of time which could be spent on other more valuable pursuits. However, there are a few foods I really enjoy, and one of them happens to be Chili Verde...and I like it hot. My recipe is heavily adapted from one which has won prizes at international chili competitions (emphasis on the word "heavily"), easier on the budget if not quite as varied in flavor, easier to prepare since it goes in the crockpot. If you're making this for the first time, I suggest going a bit more lightly on the jalapeños.

Crow's Crockpot Chili Verde

Ingredients:
2 lbs. pork loin, cubed
5 big Anaheim peppers, chopped
5 jalapeño peppers, chopped
5 tomatillos, chopped
1 sweet onion, chopped
1 heaping Tbsp. minced garlic
1/4 cup fresh cilantro (or 1 heaping Tbsp. dried)
1 heaping Tbsp. cumin
1/2 teaspoon oregano
dash of ground bayleaf
1 can Swanson's Chicken Broth
3 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 heaping Tbsps. flour

Flour tortillas to serve

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan and brown the minced garlic in the hot oil. Then add the pork and brown it on all sides. Place the meat in the bottom of your crockpot and add the peppers, tomatillos, onion and spices on top of it. Pour the chicken soup over everything. Put the lid on, turn the crockpot on high and go do something else for at least four hours, preferably six, returning only once midway through the cooking time to stir everything together.

When cooking is done, mix the flour well with cold water in a separate bowl. Add about a quarter cup of the hot liquid from the crockpot to the flour and water and combine well. Add this back into the crockpot and bring to a boil to thicken. The liquid will be a little thinner than gravy.

Steam flour tortillas on a rack over hot water. Put a scoop of drained meat on each one and roll it up. Top with additional meat and liquid. Leftovers microwave beautifully, so make a BIG batch!

Picoides Pubescens, Downy Woodpecker

Day 56: Downy Woodpeckers are fairly common in our woodlands here, but they are more often heard than seen. I checked up short when I heard a familiar "pik! pik!" note alongside a city park walking trail and kept my eyes slightly disfocused until a bit of motion caught my eye. Spiralling up from the back side of a young tree, Mr. Picoides would pause every few inches, turn his head to the side and balance with his stiff tailfeathers braced against the tree trunk while he delved for bugs beneath the bark and lichens. At times, he would retreat a few inches, but his progress was noticeably upward until at last he flew away, disturbed by a passing jogger who wasn't the least bit curious as to why a photographer had her lens trained on the forest.

Lighting The Tree

Day 55: The cookies are baked, and now the decorating begins. The tree is up, but the ornaments won't be hung until tomorrow. Why? Ah, I can tell you don't have any cats at your house by that query! The tree is a terrible temptation even though it's artificial, and a few admonitions must be issued this first evening to remind the curious that this is neither chewable nor climbable. The ornaments will be another story. Weren't those left dangling specifically to be batted? No, Tip, they were not, and you know better. It only takes a single clap of my hands or a cautioning word to make the Boy desist, but Skunk is deaf and needs to see me make a motion toward her to break her concentration. We'll have it all sorted out by tomorrow night! They're really good kitties, both of them, at least where the tree is concerned. Bows...now that's another matter entirely!

Help Yourselves, My Friends

Day 54 (bonus edition): As I mentioned yesterday, Swedish spritz are a must in my household for the holidays. Traditionally, I bake them within a few days of St. Nicholas' Day (December 6). Nothing beats their buttery flavor! From year to year, I may vary which cookie-press plates I use, although I always use the little trees. I swear green crystal sugar tastes better than any other color!

Bridge To Nowhere

Day 54: It would be late afternoon before the sun touched the backdrop of evergreens, but one thin ray slipped between their tops, catching one of the higher branches of the contorted filbert the birds love so well. My little feathered friends were mostly still abed on this frosty morning and had not yet broken the spiders' fragile handiwork. It led seemingly to nowhere, that rimed filament, its nether end severed by a shadow where it rose to attach to another tip. Without pausing long enough to melt the crystals, the light moved on.

Let The Baking Begin

Day 53: The holiday season simply wouldn't be complete without the cookies which I traditionally begin baking around St. Nicholas' Day (December 6). There are two varieties which are "musts": Swedish spritz and Russian tea cakes, aka "sandies." The fixin's for the former are presented here, all but the colored crystal sugar in which each cookie will be dipped once they've cooled. 'Tis the season to be eating! Happy holidays!

Turnabout's Fair Play

Day 52: My good friend Kevin is forever capturing me in less-than-glamorous photos. Okay, I will admit that at least 75% of the time, it's because I've seen him aiming the camera and have done something goofy as he clicks the shutter, but there's that other 25% to consider.

The first time I caught him at it, I'd been working on a volunteer clean-up project at Mt. Rainier. He was sneakier in those days and fired from the hip while engaging me in conversation. I heard the click anyway. When he published the photos for our group, there it was: a view right up my nose.

Today was no exception, although I had to laugh at the situation into which I'd gotten myself. Kevin's youngest son was playing at a piano recital in a local church and, photographer that I am, I was nosing about the Christmas displays. So was Kevin, so he was on hand when I raised up and managed to insert the twist rod of the vertical blinds between my glasses and my cheek. I said aloud, "Ack! I've been attacked!" and Kevin quickly responded by snapping a picture before I could get free.

Thus it was that I waited my moment for this shot. Turnabout's fair play, as they say, so I sneaked up on Kevin while he was engaged with his own photographic pursuits.

Four Towels Finished

Day 51:
"Four towels finished,
And a partridge in a pear tree!"

Boy, that went fast! I thought this weaving project would take a month or so to complete. I only started weaving five days ago and took the project off the loom last night. By bedtime, I had fringe tied on two of the four towels and decided to leave the others until morning. It took me less than an hour to finish that task today, and then I pitched them in the washing machine for fulling, a process which plumps up the fibers and makes the weave more compact.

And now I'm at loose ends...pun intended. I haven't quite decided what my next project will be, but one thing is certain: I want it to occupy a few more hours than this one did!

Buteo Jamaicensis, Red-Tailed Hawk

Day 50: Red-Tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) is arguably the most commonly seen hawk in the Pacific Northwest. Drive down Interstate 5 between Olympia and Portland, and you'll think they roost on every other fencepost. That said, you don't often get close enough to them for a good photo, but when I spotted this guy on the wire today, I took a chance that he'd still be there after I'd turned around and driven back. To ensure that I got a shot, I pulled off the side of the road at a considerable distance, stepped just outside the door and zoomed in. Then I began walking slowly toward him, snapping additional pictures as he filled more and more of the frame. This was as close as he allowed me to approach. The very next shot showed only a blur of tailfeathers. When he resumed a position on the wire, the sun was at his back, effectively ending the photo session without significantly altering his view of the adjacent field where, I am certain, his next meal would soon emerge.

Christmas Present To Self

Day 49: I am so close to done with my first weaving project on the "new" loom that my mind has been running to projects and it's all I can do to make myself stay seated to weave instead of leaping up to measure out a new warp. Despite trying to convince myself that I should use threads from my small stockpile, I couldn't resist the temptation and today braved Big City traffic and a two and a half hour drive to Seattle's University District. There, I spent a mere twenty minutes in a shop called "The Weaving Works," and emerged with these new 8/2 cottons, displayed on an overshot coverlet I wove years ago. I'll be working with these for months to come, since there is enough thread on the cones for quite a few large or (literally) lengthy projects. I'm looking forward to combining them in various ways.