Asarum Caudatum, Wild Ginger

First, I want to make it clear that this plant's common name is misleading. "Wild Ginger" is not related to culinary ginger, not even remotely (well, if you want to quibble, they're both plants, but I think you understand what I mean). Somebody somewhere in history got the idea that the crushed leaves of Asarum caudatum sorta smelled gingery, and tacked the name on without a thought to its inappropriate association with Zingiber officinale. Now, I could launch into a diatribe here about common names, but I'm pretty sure you've heard me rant on that subject before. What I do want to tell you is that my little patch of transplants has multiplied into a two-foot diameter patch with foliage so dense that it even threatens the pernicious buttercups which try to come up through it, and right now, it's loaded with those exquisite, mysterious, three-tailed flowers, although they're deeply hidden under the leaves. I remember the first time I found this plant in the wild. I'd been looking for it for years, but one day, I happened to be on a trail where a patch of it was above me on a steep cut. Looking up at the bottom side, as it were, I spotted the flowers. From that day on, I knew what to look for, and began seeing it in other places, places I'd walked past dozens of times without realizing I was surrounded by it. Later, I was pleased to find it in the (then) vacant lot next door. I transplanted three or four roots, and now have my own "ginger" garden. Relocating it all of fifty feet didn't bother my conscience in the slightest. Obviously, it's quite happy in its new location.

Figs!

If even half the figs on my Desert King tree mature, I will be a happy camper. It is absolutely studded with them! Right now, they're about the size of large peas, and it seems like every time I check, a few more have popped out. I had a good crop last year...just enough to keep me slightly over-figged if you take my meaning...and the friend who gave me the sapling years ago said that once they get going, they produce like mad. Hers is fifteen feet tall and at least as wide, and she gives away figs by the bushel. Two years ago, the crop was three or four. One year later, the harvest was a whopping 32 which came to full ripeness. This year looks to top that. In my book, figs are like raspberries: there's no such thing as "too many."

Lab vs. Field

As any scientist will tell you, something which works perfectly in the lab still may not play out properly in the field. That was the case here. I did a careful "twill test" to determine that a sett of 26 ends per inch would give me a 45-degree angle (a balanced weave, same number of throws per inch as warp threads per inch). I even washed and dried the blankety-blank thing. Then I warped the loom accordingly, spacing out 26 threads in 12 slots, 2-2-2-2-2-3. My purple weft thread hasn't arrived yet, so I decided to do one more test. I put in a "slicky cord" header which was obviously not cooperating to give 26 throws per inch, but that was slicky cord. Even allowing for its slightly different behaviour, I thought it was prudent to do weave a bit with the real stuff, i.e., 8/2 cotton. If someone told you there'd been an explosion near Mount Rainier this morning, that would have been me. Sigh. I am now re-threading the reed at 24 epi. At least I didn't have to re-thread the heddles.

Spinning Confetti

I finished up the singles of BFL (Blue-Faced Leicester) this morning, and as my reward for getting that project out of the way, I started spinning a neppy wool/viscose blend for a "confetti" yarn. It's slow going because the base fiber is a relatively short staple (individual fiber length) and the little coloured nepps are very "grabby." It took spinning about ten yards for me to get the hang of handling it: how to ensure that it wouldn't have weak spots or pull apart at the weight I wanted it to be, at the same time distributing the nepps so they didn't clump up or make thick areas in the strand. Once I figured out the nuances, I began thinking of it as "mindfulness spinning," because I have to treadle quite a bit slower than usual while my hands are working faster to stay ahead of the short-staple fiber. I'm sure by the time I get through a pound of it, it won't take the same degree of focus it's demanding now.

Silly String

The skein is 88 yards, the bobbin 107 yards (I wound it off after I took the photo). That's almost enough Silly String to make a rag rug. And lemme tell ya, this is a lot of work for a "scraps" project! The yarn is made from weaving thrums, leftovers of warp and bobbin extras tied together, then spun into two bobbins-worth of 4-ply, and then spun again to make an 8-ply strand. Hard work or no, the resultant product satisfies two criteria in my book: one, it utilizes something which most people would discard and two, it's colourful, light-hearted and soon to be useful. Hey, that's a win-win as far as I'm concerned. Okay, so I get really tired of tying all those ends together, but I love seeing the combinations come together on the spinning wheel. I figure I need 200-250 yards to make a rug, but now I'm out of thrums!

Wet Sheep Day

Today is Wet Sheep Day. With my planned weaving project having to go on hold until one of two things happens, I've been catching up on my spinning. Out of a pound of Blue-Faced Leicester, I have two ounces remaining to be spun, although several full bobbins of singles are in the queue to be plied. I freed up two bobbins today by winding off the finished yarn (362 yards) and giving it a good soak in tepid water before hanging it out to dry in our current warm, breezy weather. My Louet wheel (the "ply wheel") is occupied with Silly String which has to be finished up before I can ply more wool. I find myself wishing I had a third spinning wheel and another three or four bobbins! As for the weaving project, the warp took more than half the cone of one colour, leaving me short for the weft. My supplier is out of stock, but tells me they expect to get the colour in by the end of the month. If that does not happen, I have a second cone which I can use as an alternate, although it's not the same shade. I don't really want to resort to that, but the only other option is to wait until June or July to see if the colour is restocked. Meanwhile, I'm spinning up a storm!

Update: And just like that, they restocked the colour I needed!

Brown Marmorated Stinkbug, Halyomorpha Halys

This post is brought to you by Merry! After getting a handful of stink, he did everything he could think to do in order to draw my attention to the bug he'd just tried to catch without actually touching it again. He was acting like he'd found a wasp or bee, approaching something with cautioned curiosity, backing off, pausing occasionally to lick at his paw. When I saw what it was, I grabbed a plastic cup and a sheet of paper and captured it so I could transfer it to a magnifier box in order to make an identification. For once, I got it right: Brown Marmorated Stinkbug, Halyomorpha halys. "Marmorated" means "mottled" or "marbled," referring to the spotted colouration. To get both dorsal and ventral views, I chilled the observation box in the freezer for ten minutes to immobilize it. This is a non-native insect which, according to my field guide, is spreading rapidly throughout the Pacific Northwest. It feeds on fruits, vegetables and ornamentals. Had I known that beforehand, I probably wouldn't have released it when it began to be active again.