Back Or Front

Day 79: Floats of some sort or another appear in all weaving except the most basic "over-and-under" of tabby. These are threads (warp or weft) which cross more than one thread (weft or warp, appropriately) at 90 degrees, and are what give textured weaves their character. Sometimes, floats create a distinctive "back side" or "front side" to the cloth, but in others such as this waffle weave, either side can be "up." In the insets, however, you will see that the floats appear in a different order on the top and bottom. In the left photo, the floating thread forms a cross in the center of the orange section. In the right photo, the float creates a border on the right side of each coloured section. This is a very important factor to consider when you are stitching together panels as I will be doing here. So which side is truly "up?" In the case of waffle, it doesn't matter as long as the panels match. And on that note, I will confess that I hoped to have the waffle throw done by New Year's Day, so I could start the year with a fresh warp, but I didn't make it. I had a couple of other projects which needed to be finished up sooner, and the waffles went on the back burner, so to speak. That said, by evening, I should be able to hang a new warp on the bonker loom. I have only a few inches to go on the current band, and have already measured out the warp for another one. I'll still be starting the New Year off with a new weaving, and my resolution will be to dedicate myself to finishing the waffles over the next few days.

Mister Anna

Day 78: By and large, people in northern climes tend to regard hummingbirds as summer visitors and consequently take their feeders down when cold weather sets in. I might have had Anna's long before the first one showed up, but for the fact that I did exactly that: stopped putting out the food as soon as I was sure the Rufouses were gone. A few years ago, though, I spotted a solitary Anna's in my dogwood tree during the summer. A little later in the year, it was joined by a couple more and, to my great amazement, they didn't leave with the Rufous gang. I kept the feeders stocked all winter, bringing them in at night when the temps plunged below freezing, returning them to the hangers before first light so that the birds newly emerged from nighttime torpor could find an easy breakfast. Those first few Anna's spread the word, and now I have nearly as many in winter as I do in summer, but of course in summer, the Rufous crowd returns in equivalent numbers. I have seen one bird which I was sure was Costa's (a male) and another which may have been a Costa's/Anna's hyrbrid. Winter hummer-watching can be a lot more rewarding than you might expect!

Instruments

Day 77: It hasn't exactly been a "Murphy" day because nothing has gone too terribly wrong, but neither has it been a day of any particular accomplishment. Is it the post-Christmas blahs making me feel this way? Can I blame it on age? Can it be attributed to the somewhat gloomier-than-usual PNW weather? A combination of the three? A little Mozart, a silly song, a tordion or spagnioletta brightens my mood for the length of time it takes to play it, and then I begin circling the drain again, thinking it might be a good time to go back to bed even though I just had lunch. Why do the holidays tax us so, even when we aren't burdened with meal prep and guests? And why do we permit ourselves to be so affected? More importantly, where are my bootstraps that I might lift myself up by them? I know I should find relief with music, but instead, I seek solace in the cookie jar, lured the siren melody of spritz and chocolate chips.

Weaving Sideways

Day 76: Lovingly nicknamed the "bonker loom" for the action of beating the weft thread into place, my Glimakra band loom sees possibly more use than any other piece of fiberarts equipment in my house. I use it more often than the floor loom which, by its very nature, holds long-term projects. The bonker is also easy to move around, so if I want to put it out of the way when I need more space, I can do so with ease. It usually stands in the living room, and is seldom without a warp for more than a few days, although what I am ever going to do with all the decorative bands I've created is still open to conjecture. They're just fun to weave. You see, in most weaving, the warp threads run vertically to the weft from the perspective of the weaver seated on the bench. Not so the bonker! The warp goes from right to left, and the shuttle is passed across the narrow width. I think of it as "weaving sideways," a process requires a slightly different skill set than regular weaving. It took me a while to figure out how to keep my tension even from selvedge to selvedge. Patterns are created with "floats," threads which miss out passing under or over a warp thread to remain on the surface of the work. Most of the time, this means lifting the pattern threads with the band knife, although sometimes threads need to be pushed down instead, or in more complicated patterns, some are lifted from the lower shed while others in the upper shed are suppressed on the same throw. This is most easily accomplished by having the necessary threads on string heddles so that they can be pulled down out of the active layer in groups as required. The sequence becomes a mantra: "5, 4-6, 3-7, 4-6, 5, open, 4-6 suppressed, open," and before you know it, six inches of band have developed and it's time to advance the warp again. Eventually, I reel off several yards of finished band, remark "Oh, that's pretty," and then roll it up and put it away. Keeps me off the streets, I guess. I could do worse.

Christmas-Present-To-Self

Day 75: Backdating this, because yesterday should have been an ordinary day, but as it transpired, my power, internet, land-line and cell service all disappeared at 6:15 AM. I haven't found out why yet, but I suspect a landslide caused by having almost 3" of rain fall in two days. The power came back on six hours later, a long time for our little rural power company. Usually, they have us back up and running in something under two hours. However, I didn't get cell service until right before bedtime. Land-line and internet were both still down when I went to bed.

The good news from yesterday was that my Christmas-present-to-self arrived, in person of a new chair (a recliner). After reading dozens of reviews and scouting local furniture stores via their websites, I decided to take a chance and order from Amazon. Feeling a bit like I'd just bought a pig in a poke, I was worried that it might not live up to my expectations, but it did...and more. It appears to be very well-made, but the best thing about it is that the seat is about two inches higher from the floor than the old Spin-the-Kitty chair, which means that I no longer have to sit on a pillow to use the bonker loom. It is the perfect height for weaving. The seat is quite firm (a selling point for me), and as a bonus, it has a heating/massage element in the backrest. It took me a whole ten minutes to assemble, and no swear words were involved. Then I had the remainder of the day to spend on "vacation," inadvertent as it might have been. I got quite a bit of weaving done.

Jaffas

Day 74: "A Kiwi icon, whether you roll them or bounce them, the delicious Jaffas must be the most fun orange chocolate ball ever!" Waitaminit...say WHAT? There must be an ad explaining that description, but to be honest, I had never heard of Jaffas until a conversation with a Kiwi friend migrated around to chocolates. He bought a bag for me, intending to send them as a gift for a previous Christmas, but then the pandemic hit, and mail service was suspended. At long last, I received them this year and just sampled my first one. Our good ol' American M&Ms can't hold a candle to these little jewels of dark chocolate encased in a crisp orange-flavoured shell. Allowing the shell to melt on your tongue only enhances the experience. That said, somebody is going to have to explain the "roll or bounce" part to me in greater detail. I'm genuinely curious.

Ewe-wooltide Joy!

Day 73: Seriously, what else would you expect from a fiber artist/weaver/spinner than my best wishes for Ewe-wooltide joy? The ornament was a gift from one of my sisters-of-the-heart, and the word-play sprang into my head as soon as I lifted it out of the wrappings. I knew I had to convert it to a Christmas "card" right then and there. And as a sidebar to that, I'll be hanging a new warp on the "bonker" loom today, picking away at some cross-stitch, finishing up a crocheted motif, weaving on the floor loom, in between spending quality time with Tippy and cooking a ham. Happy Christmas, everyone!

Christmas Portrait

Day 72 (bonus): Tippy would also like to wish you a Merry Christmas! He very obligingly posed for his Christmas portrait last night. Isn't he a handsome lad?

Merry Christmas From The Gang

Day 72: The Gang has emerged to help celebrate Christmas. Once a year, they leave the sanctity of the Bird Can to spend an hour or so with me, and then having spread their cheer, they go back into hiding until next year. There are a lot of special people here, and you might notice two non-avian members in the gathering if you look closely. Don't worry, they're not gate-crashers. They (Tippy and Mouse) were invited along with everyone else. There are some stories here too: Mascot, who was found trampled into the mud on an obscure trail. I couldn't leave him there, forgotten and unloved. After a bath and a good warm-up, he made a full recovery to join the group. The Three Sisters are present: Crow, Mouse and Goldfinch, as a set I crocheted for myself and my two sisters-of-the-heart, joined by a Blue Jay and a Cardinal. And there is Cocky, in the place of honour, carrying memories of someone more dear to my heart than any other. Next to Bomb from "Angry Birds," a preponderance of crows flocks together in the lower left, gifts from various friends who were unaware that a murder was going on ("murder" being a convocation of crows, of course). They have asked me in a chorus of chirps, caws, squawks, screeches and tweets to convey their best wishes to you for a happy holiday!

Fluffball Thrush

Day 71: The Thrush is back...the Thrush are back...Thrushes are back...dang it anyway...more than one Thrush is back, and they are all puffed up to maximize the amount of air trapped by their feathers, the better to insulate them against the cold. While the principle seems sound, I keep thinking about the reason Pacfic Northwest backpackers choose synthetic-filled sleeping bags: down is worthless if it gets wet, and right now the Thrush is (are) soaked through and through with freezing rain. Watching them run out from the protection of the shrubs to grab seed, only to dart straight back in again sends the train of my thoughts along tracks cut through the Olympics, the Mt. Margaret backcountry north of Mt. St. Helens, and the Northern Loop in Mount Rainier National Park. Oh, how miserable I was, wet to the bone despite good raingear! I can sympathize with the Thrush who only leaves the safety of his natural "tent" for the most urgent of reasons, if rather different from those which compelled me into the storm on those occasions. At least I could take my meals inside.

Custom Weaving

Day 70: More weeks ago than I care to admit, a friend asked me if I could weave a strap for her mandolin. I was more than willing because it gave me an excuse to try weaving a wider band on my "bonker" loom (Glimakra band loom). Unfortunately, the colour scheme in the first warp I hung didn't live up to my expectations, but since it was on the loom and I didn't want to waste the thread, I went ahead and finished it. It's attractive, but just not what I wanted for Elaine's mandolin strap. Having overcome that setback, I hung a new warp in different colours and knew within a few throws that I was going to be pleased with the results. I still have a few inches to weave, but here you see the improved version. It's two inches wide, and has two sets of five pattern threads (the hearts) separated by design stripes which require no pickup. Overall, it's fairly easy to weave, although I found the black background threads hard to distinguish, and had to be extra careful not to pick them up along with the pattern threads. Meanwhile, I've been making matching cords using a variety of techniques, unsure what size will work best for attaching to the button at the base of the mandolin. The finished band will be backed with cloth and will have grommeted ends for cord attachment.

Solstice Greetings

Day 69: Solstice greetings, my friends! Dance the Holly! Dance the Mistletoe! The Light is now returning, and dark nights swiftly go! Here, there is snow on the ground and a nip in the air which is forecast to become a much firmer bite over the next two nights, but with the passing of this date, there is hope in the fact that darkness is losing its grip (at least in the northern hemisphere). How long will it be before you begin to notice a change in the length of day? It usually takes me about a week, maybe ten days before I say, "Hm...it's lighter later. Nice!" And believe me, to a Pacific Northwesterner, those few seconds or minutes are significant. You wouldn't think such a small change was noticeable, but we humans are governed by a biological clock which is more sensitive than we might imagine. The body becomes aware of lengthening daylight even before the mind recognizes it, and those of us who are affected by SAD (and what true Pacific Northwesterner is not?), we begin to feel more cheerful, more energetic. For certain, we understand that winter has only barely started, and that colder days are ahead of us, but those few seconds of extra light help us bear up under its assault. Soon, we'll find ourselves receiving another assist to our recovery from the "gloomies." The first seed catalogs will be coming in the mail, and that's a sure sign that spring is just around the corner!

Visits In The Night

Day 68: Snow and frost tell the story of an unseen group of visitors prowling the yard at night. Prints leading to tender shrubs, to the bird feeders and to the recycling and trash bins testify to a hidden population of larger creatures who are searching for easy food. I seldom see the raccoons, although the deer make daylight appearances, and an occasional elk wanders through. It is harder to find tracks in the months when the bear and cougar are active, although I have found both animals' prints in my driveway (I've seen the cougar's tail as it whipped around the hedge as the cat fled the scene, startled by the security light). A few days ago, I spotted what I was sure were bunny tracks lolloping from the safety of the filbert toward the highway, but no coyote prints followed, although I've heard them singing in the pasture. Each line of progress is a sentence in the greater story authored by the snow. I do not know where it goes, this tale, nor where the tracks lead once they have passed through the chapter of my yard.

The Bird Tree

Day 67: I'm sure if you'd given it a moment's thought, you could have guessed that my Christmas tree would have a strong natural history theme, and you might also have assumed that the decorations would be mostly birds. There are a few cats, some sheep, a couple of frogs, a caterpillar, snowflakes and icicles, but other than a very small handful of the traditional balls which were gifts from friends, at least 90% of the total number of ornaments are avian. Cardinals dominate by virtue of being associated with Christmas already, but there are other recognizable species: Canada jays, nuthatches, chickadees, parrots and cockatoos. There are carved wooden birds from Bali, stylized birds which I harvested from cocktail stirrers, glass birds, resin birds, feather birds, little birds, big birds, birds in nests, birds in straw houses. I've never counted them, other than 38 similar wooden birds which get packed away together, but there must be something in the neighbourhood of 200, maybe even 250. And they take forever to hang, and almost as long to put away in January. Sure, I could simplify decorating by weeding some out...and I could lighten my grocery bill by not filling the feeders quite so often. Nope, not gonna happen, not in my world.

Fingerloop Braiding

Day 66: I wouldn't be at all surprised if some of my readers react to this post by saying, "Oh, we did that in grade school!" or "I learned how to do that in Scouts!" This is fingerloop braiding, yet another way to make cords to add to projects. It's most often done with five to nine loops, each one held on a finger or thumb, at least when you're working solo. For more complicated braids, you may need an athletic assistant or one who likes to dance. Since Tippy doesn't qualify in either "cat"-egory, I am limited to working with a pair of loops which do not extend from their anchor point past the reach of my outspread arms and until recently, my ability to do fingerloop braiding was hampered by a painful shoulder. At most, I can make a cord roughly two feet long. The process is simple in theory: loops are passed through one another, sometimes twisting as they go from hand to hand. In practice, a lot of variation can be achieved by varying the sequence, manipulating the strands differently, changing up colours and so on. I recently discovered this three-colour triangle braid made with five loops and thought it would be fun to try. The trick is in the accent colours. Rather than using a single colour for each of the two loops, each of the accent loops is made with two threads of different colours tied together at the end. The weave begins with the two accent loops on one hand with the same colour on top, and the three background colour loops held in the opposite hand. Once you get the hang of handling loops in the crooks of your fingers without dropping them, the work goes quite quickly, even with 8/2 cotton like I've used here. That said, triangle braids and two-colour loops are definitely beyond the scope of what I learned in Campfire Girls!

Frost Art

Day 65: "Wintry mix, patchy fog, snow." That's what my forecast looks like for the next week, with the possibility of rain mixed with snow for solstice. In any event, Jack Frost has been busy lately, with some areas of the yard not thawing at any point in the day. I bring the hummingbird feeders in at night, and even before first light, the Anna's have emerged from torpor and have begun looking for breakfast. Again and again, I am astounded by those tiny creatures' capacity to withstand temperatures which would throw a human into hypothermia in very short order. When stood up against a hummingbird or mosses and ferns, the human animal seems so very fragile and vulnerable, and certainly not the superior beings we imagine ourselves to be, or at least not in a biological sense. Our perspective is skewed by our ability to use tools, and yet if we look at the situation objectively, it is tool use which is bringing us to the brink of extinction. Perhaps the hummingbirds and ferns will survive us.

Kumihimo Cord

Day 64: A friend asked me to weave a strap for one of her musical instruments, and although I'm not done with the weaving yet, I decided to get started on the cords she'll be using to attach it. Since I don't know what will work best, I'll be making an assortment of cords in various weights, using several different techniques including kumihimo, as shown in this photo. Kumihimo could be called a type of weaving, although it is more often referred to as "braiding" and is closely related to sinnet-making as seen in marlinespike work, but on a much smaller scale. Progressing around the disk, the threads are brought over one another in a specific order to achieve a pattern (in this case, a spiral of three colours). As each sequence progresses, the disk is rotated in the hand. It's relatively mindless work and somewhat time-consuming, but it provides a nice break from the focus required in weaving the matching band.

Hemstitching

Day 63: As a matter of course, I hemstitch both ends of my weavings while they are still on the loom. There are a few exceptions to that rule (notably when I am weaving two layers at once), and I can assure you that it's much easier to do when the warp strands are tight. When a project consists of several individual lengths (e.g., a set of towels), each end of each piece requires stitching. Hemstitching secures the last weft throw against the body of the cloth so that it does not come unwoven. I usually hemstitch over two threads, although a decorative effect can be achieved by working deeper into the woven fabric. Here, I am finishing up the first of two panels for a worsted-weight lap throw. Next, I will advance the warp so that there is a space between this end and the beginning of the next panel wide enough to make a fringe on both pieces.

Stollen

Day 62: To be perfectly honest, I think one of the main reasons I enjoy the Yule season is because it gives me an excuse to bake even more than usual, letting me trot out the recipes for specialty breads and cookies that I don't make at any other time of year. A good example of this is stollen, a sweet breakfast loaf with German origins, with raisins, candied fruit and almond slivers studding each and every slice. It can be eaten plain or buttered (the dough is already butter-rich), and may be served warm or cold. It freezes well, so it can be made weeks in advance to give as presents to special friends. Years ago, I was on the receiving end annually, thanks to a neighbour who shared my sentiments on breads as gifts. She is no longer with us, though, and my recipe is different from hers. In fact, I follow the one in "Joy of Cooking" with two notable exceptions: I soak the raisins in brandy overnight (or longer), and I use loaf pans which increase the cooking time by 10 minutes (roughly). One final note: I hear people ask, "Why is it called 'stollen?' Is it Russian?" After asking a couple of individuals why they would make that supposition, I determined that they assumed it was named after Stalin. No, stollen is German, and specifically a Christmas bread. It is similar to the Russian Easter bread called kulich, but minus the saffron and not as labour-intensive. Spelling matters.

Dislodged

Day 61: Even the most skilled builders cannot foresee every eventuality. Robins frequently return to the same nesting site in subsequent breeding seasons, building a new nest on top of one or more old structures. This one has at least one more tier, possibly two or three, although it's difficult to tell because the old framework has been lavishly decorated with lichen and moss. The newest nest was no doubt erected on the level, however, the older supports had canted to one side in a robin-sized rendition of Pisa's famous Leaning Tower. Alas, the underpinnings failed due to heavy rain, snow and wind in some combination or another, and the dwelling dislodged from the interior of my yew hedge to land intact in the yard. Somebody needs to start shopping for a new place to raise the kids.

Invasives On Holiday

Day 60: Ah, yes. Revised somewhat from last year's effort, I give you my new and improved version of this traditional holiday carol:

The holly and the ivy,
Both as invasives cursed!
Of all the shrubbery in our woods,
These two are just the worst.
Oh, the rising of the sap
And spreading of the seeds!
A little dash of 2, 4, 5-T
Is what this problem needs
(Is what this problem needs)!

You may of course substitute "Agent Orange" for "2, 4, 5-T" if you can't get the scansion right. Or use your own choice of herbicide, although it may not be quite as effective in the field or lyrically.

Having Friends Over

Day 59: It's always nice when friends drop by for a visit during the holiday season! Yes, my family group of Canada Jays are still here, having discovered that I will keep the suet feeder filled for them. They do seem to be rather curious about the Christmas tree, only a foot or so away, albeit on the other side of a window, and I have no doubt whatsoever that if I left a window open, they'd fly right in. I've had Grosbeaks and Chickadees try to sneak in past me through the kitchen door, including one fledgling Grosbeak I dubbed "Follower" for his propensity to be at my heel. Canada Jays are notoriously friendly, as backpackers can attest, although this batch (I may have as many as five) seem to be a bit more hesitant. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if they eventually accept food from my hand. And then...oh, boy! I will have to be very careful coming and going!

The Weather Outside Is Frightful

Day 58: "Winter storm warning" does not always mean that we're going to have snow. Sometimes it means it's going to rain buckets and blow trees down. So far (knock on wood), my power has stayed on, perhaps due to some recent work on our substation. In any event, it seemed like a good day to put up the Christmas tree, and settle in with a cup of hot eggnog, a good book, wool socks on my tootsies and a warm cat curled up on my lap. In the aura cast by the lights on the tree, an era long gone sheds a glow and warmth to the home scene; a page turns, and I am in Dickens' world or my grandmother's, when Christmas was a time for the closeness of family and the spirit of good will. My friends, spread so far across the globe, process one by one through my thoughts with their greetings and well-wishes. I pick up my needlework to keep from dozing off mid-chapter, and think of the women before me who did their intricate work by candlelight. Bluster though it may, the storm has set a mood of nostalgia for a time I never knew, a gift borne on its gusts, and ringing Christmas bells on my wind chimes.

Spot Eight Differences

Day 57: It would appear that a number of my friends need something to divert their attention from the demands of the holiday season. I received multiple requests for a harder "spot the differences" puzzle, and while this one isn't a lot more difficult, it might take a little longer for you to find all eight. Setting these up and photographing them is not as easy as it might seem. The slightest bump is almost guaranteed to shift something out of position, and trying to remove an object and replace it with a similar one requires the dexterity of a brain surgeon. Even if you don't recognize all the objects in this puzzle, you should be able to guess that they are all from my kitchen. Enjoy what I've cooked up for you, and don't give the answers away!

Spot Six Differences

Day 56: The weather is just not conducive to finding material for natural history posts these days, so I decided to create a little puzzle for your enjoyment. I love almost all types of puzzles although I lean rather heavily toward those which involve words when it comes to mental stimulus, but every now and then, it's good to take a break from brain-strain. Most puzzles provide some benefit to the solver in the long term. "Find the differences" puzzles are purely visual, providing a tool to hone observational skills. While this one is far from difficult (you shouldn't need to enlarge it), at least one of the six elements might give you a moment's pause. Don't give it away! Let others have the fun of finding the solution.

Build-Your-Own Mistletoe

Day 55: When I was a kid, you used to be able to buy fresh mistletoe in the dime stores, at grocery checkouts, and other common venues. Yes, it had berries on it, but parents warned their kids that they were poisonous (and we listened!), and pet owners either hung the sprigs where their furry friends couldn't reach or pruned the berries off. If there were mistletoe-related fatalities, they were few and far between, but some official body somewhere decided that mistletoe represented an intolerable safety hazard, and it was removed from sale unless already divested of its fruit. One step led to another, and eventually, it became almost impossible to find fresh mistletoe. Now I'm not saying that I was ever kissed beneath a spray of this parasitic plant, no. In fact, I don't recall that ever happening. Still, mistletoe was as much a part of Christmas as ribbon candy and the manger scene. To the best of my knowledge, the only species of mistletoe native to Washington is a micro-mini version occurring on evergreen trees. Oregon's oaks grow a full-sized version, but driving to Oregon to hunt down an obliging oak seemed a rather excessive response to the problem. Instead, I built my own out of Fimo (a bake-in-the-oven polymer clay similar to Sculpey), and I think it looks a lot better than the weird artificials sold in craft stores these days. Does it work? Ask Tippy!

St. Nicholas Day Tradition

Day 54: Happy St. Nicholas Day! For me, the 6th of December marks the start of the holiday season. As a youngster, the occasion meant a visit from St. Nicholas...not Santa Claus, not Father Christmas, but a figure somewhere between the two, with a blush of St. Francis of Assisi thrown in for spice. I pictured St. Nicholas as physically resembling Father Christmas: tall, thin, heavily and luxuriously robed, bearded, and with a wreath of holly and mistletoe on his head. His companions were the forest creatures, chipmunks at his feet, birds on his shoulders, deer following adoringly behind as he made his evening rounds to the children of the world. He did not bring toys, clothes or the other trappings one would expect from Santa's bag. Instead, he brought sweets and fruit: mandarin oranges, chewy dates and figs, ribbon candy, crystallized maple sugar in the shape of leaves. I never knew which door he'd open, but it always seemed to be the one farthest from where I was waiting to hear the "thunk" of a sackful of goodies hitting the floor when he tossed it inside. And oddly enough, my father always seemed to miss the event, having excused himself to visit the kitchen or bath. Today, I celebrate St. Nicholas Day with a tradition I began in adulthood. To open the holidays, I bake one of my favourite cookies, either Spritz or Russian Tea Cakes. I think St. Nicholas would approve.

Tvistsöm Scaled Down

Day 53: In contrast to the tvistsöm embroidery I am working on a handwoven table runner at roughly eight stitches per inch, there little bitty birdies are set at 16 stitches per inch, and my old eyes are protesting the scale. There was a time when I could do counted-thread work including cross-stitch, hardanger, and especially drawnwork over two threads on 52-count canvas without a magnifier, i.e., at 26 stitches per inch, but no longer. Sixteen is about the best I can manage now, 18 in optimum light, and even so, I have to take my glasses off and hold the cloth a mere needle's-length from my eyes in order to see the holes. And no more working on dark fabrics! That said, this would not have been my first choice of canvas or thread for this particular project, but apparently three-strand crewel yarn is a thing of the past, now only available from hoarders on Etsy and Ebay, specialty producers, or in dedicated kits. Floss it is then, and if I look cross-eyed in my next selfie, you'll know why.

The Sorter

Day 52: This is the Sorter. The Sorter's job is to ensure that only the very best and heaviest seeds remain in my hand. His technique is simple. He buries his beak in the pile, gives a quick shake of his head, throwing all the lightweight seeds and chaff onto the ground below. Once the pile has been reduced to seven or eight prime candidates, he selects one and takes it to the contorted filbert, there to spend several minutes in enjoyment of his meal. By that time, a few of his companions will have come in to take their pick of the leftovers, and I will refill my hand so that the Sorter can continue his work. If he has not yet returned from his lunch break, Sorter #2 takes the next shift. There's no shortage of staff in this workplace!

The Loom Room

Day 51: The Loom Room received an unscheduled reorganization a few days ago when the ancient computer I had been using for backup image storage finally gave up the ghost with much wheezing, gasping and choking in its final moments. I've been expecting its demise for some time, even anticipating the event in the hopes of gaining a bit more space in these crowded quarters. Its footprint has now filled by the sewing machine, out of the kitchen at long last, and some minor shifting of furniture made it easier for me to access a crafts cupboard. The old HP has been sectioned and its recyclable bits binned appropriately, while the hard drive and motherboard are slated for eventual destruction. Besides giving me a certain feeling of satisfaction as I dismembered the beast, its absence makes the Loom Room a more pleasant work area, somewhere I can hide out when I've had it up to the eyeballs with technology. Consequently, the waffle-weave throw is going a bit faster now. Who knows? I might even get some of those bins of yarn used up and gain even more space!

Playing Favourites

Day 50: As much as I love the picotee Christmas cactus' magenta-rimmed white flowers, it's the yellow one I can't resist calling my favourite. A reliable performer, it never fails to produce a flush of lemon-hued blooms in December, sometimes coming back for an encore in late January. My preference for it makes me feel a little ashamed of myself: no parent is supposed to have a favourite child (although most do, and won't admit it even to themselves). Picotee's glamour, while elegant and stylish, falls just short of outshining Yellow's brilliance to take top place. But not to worry. One succeeds the other, rendering the competition irrelevant.

Snow Faeries

Day 49: The Snow Faeries came calling last night, and with them they brought one of the modern era's most precious commodities: silence. I had almost forgotten what it doesn't sound like, that absence of traffic grumbling on the road, but over the last four hours, no more than four cars have dared the snow; no log trucks, no jeepers, no early-shift commuters and more telling, no plow. The Faeries must have gifted Flatland as well, calling those enormous scraping, growling machines to the lowlands with a sense of greater urgency than that of our small mountain community. Silence! It brings a deep calmness to my spirit, creates space between the snarl of thoughts and cares winding through my head. It has been too long since I heard nothing, far too long, and odd though it may seem, nothing can be as critically important to existence as any or all of the somethings in the world.