Onion-dyed Skein

The weather wasn't optimal for this solar-dyeing experiment, but I am pleased with the results. Ideally, it would have stayed hot for the full period, however, we moved into a cooling trend after just a few days. In all, the dye bath temperature was quite warm (I could still stick my hand in it) for the first 3-4 days of the 11 I left the yarn to steep, cooling to ambient (45-90 degrees) for the remaining time. I left the jar outside overnight, meaning it cooled down substantially and then had to re-warm during daylight hours, a slow process at best. This was 32 grams of handspun wool (Corriedale) with an equivalent amount of onion skins. I remembered to agitate it occasionally (maybe five times at most). Even so, the wool dyed very evenly.

Trying Dyeing

I've been dying to try this, and now I'm trying to dye this! For the last ten days or so, I have been spinning some very fine wool with the thought of solar-dyeing it with onion skins after turning it into a three-ply yarn. The farther I got into the project, the less willing I was becoming to sink it in a dye bath and risk ruining it. Then it occurred to me that I probably had a short skein of white Corriedale somewhere in my stash, and sure enough, I found just what I wanted: 32 grams, 38 yards. I've been saving onion skins for a couple of years (yes, really), so I weighed out an equivalent amount and put them in the "dye jar." I added tepid water to both jars, submerged my skein of wool in the other one, and set them out in the yard on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Once the wool has had an hour or two to hydrate, I'll transfer it to the dye jar. I have not mordanted this skein, but mordanting with alum can give a more vivid (but less permanent) colour. Wool is sensitive to temperature changes, so it's important to let both jars warm up at the same time. Every day for the next 7-14 days, I will slosh the wool gently in the dye bath until it reaches the colour saturation I want (or until no more dye transfers to it). Other colours can be achieved with solar dyeing using various natural materials like black-eyed susan petals, delphinium flowers, marigolds, etc. Some dye sources need for the wool to be mordanted, but the ones I listed do not. Using non-mordanted methods is a good way to break into dyeing.

Weaver's Worst Nightmare

Day 229: For the last several days, I have been living one of a weaver's worst nightmares. When I went to mount a new warp of expensive, fine (16/2) Scottish wool on the loom, I dropped half the cross.

For those of you who don't know, the cross is what keeps the threads in order. It is established when measuring a warp onto a warping board, and before the warp can be removed, the cross must be secured with ties or separators of some kind. I generally use little pieces of cardboard, inserting one on each side of the cross, then tying the ends together. In this particular case, I had wound the warp in two pieces (one on each of two warping boards). During the transfer process, one of the ties came loose, and one piece of cardboard slid out. Luckily, the second one remained in place. Even so, the cross had been free to "travel" down into the remaining warp, but fortunately, the wool was fairly "grabby," keeping it more or less in order. The operative words in that last sentence are "more or less." I still had to re-establish the cross without further tangling the threads. For obvious reasons, Merry was banished from the Loom Room for the duration. It took many hours to complete the job to my satisfaction.

The "grabbiness" of the wool worked both for and against me. It had kept the cross from becoming too tangled, but at the same time, it had a tendency to snarl at the lease sticks as I tried to wind on, especially in the section where I had manipulated it. An inch at a time, I coaxed the warp through the lease and onto the roller. The last photo in the series shows a perfect cross. It wasn't easy getting to that point, but patience prevailed. I'm still threading heddles (1024 of them!), but when I'm finished weaving it, this piece will be a shawl in my family tartan, McLeod of Lewis...a "bucket list" project which would make my mother proud.

Tartan Project

Day 193: Another of my "bucket list" weaving projects is in its initial phase. I have always wanted to weave my family tartan (McLeod of Lewis), and although I made a shawl using commercial knitting worsted, it was far from the vision in my mind. A friend gifted me with enough 16/2 (fine) Scottish wool thread for a shawl last Christmas, and after making a small test piece, I determined that it would have to be sett at 36 ends per inch to achieve a balanced weave. For the width I wanted, that meant 1024 ends in total. Obviously, winding it on the warping board was going to take a while, but even more critical to the project was tying an additional 600 string heddles. I figured I had plenty of time to do both because I had just loaded Max (my Bergman floor loom) with an overshot project which I wasn't likely to finish for at least two months. Well, I've made progress. The overshot is nearing completion, and I only have 50 heddles left to tie. It was time to start winding the warp. Merry has been a bit too helpful at times, but I think we have at last come to an understanding regarding teeth, toenails and tempting strings, although I have to hide the warping board between sessions. I'm halfway there.

High-Fiber Diet

Day 154: I thrive on a high-fiber diet. I'm guessing that my stash of weaving cones and wool for spinning would last me at least two years if I didn't make any new purchases, and believe me, this is a thought which has been in the front of my mind since...oh, let's say the last week in January. Certainly, some projects might not be exactly what I'd prefer, but then, if your cupboard is bare of everything but canned peas, you'll bloody well eat canned peas rather than starve. As it is at the moment, I can pick and choose. Want a lighter shade of green in that band? I've got it. Need a handspun hat for a friend who likes pink? Can do! But if push came to shove (and I suspect it will), I'm sure I could design an attractive band around brown and grey and, boring though it might be, creamy white Corriedale wool has a delightful feel as it slips through the fingers to wind onto a spindle. The cedar chest is full of wool. The weaving cupboard is fully packed. Off camera, there are several bins of commercial yarn, every shade of embroidery floss known to DMC, linen threads for bobbin lace in sizes which would make a spider envious, crochet and tatting cottons filling numerous drawers. I may wind up with an empty tummy before this nightmare ends, but at least my hands won't be idle.

What's That Fiber?

Day 154: Today, we're going to play a little game called "What's That Fiber?" I was curious as to whether my fingers could distinguish the bamboo/rayon in a mixed roving, so I put some samples under the microscope. There are two cellulose fibers here (as in "plant-based") and wool from two different breeds of sheep (Coopworth and Merino). Cellulose fibers are made by pulping plant material and treating it with chemicals to break it down into a solution which can be extruded, and therefore they tend to be smooth. On the other hand, wool is a protein-based fiber with a rough cortex (outer layer). As opposed to other sources such as rabbit or camel, sheep's wool varies in diameter from breed to breed. Merino is classified as a fine wool, rated at 15-25 microns; Coopworth comes in at 30-39. By comparison, an average human hair measures 70 microns. Cotton fibers average from 11-22 microns, rayon for fabric production falls between 8-25. Given this information, you should be able to identify the bamboo, cotton, Merino and Coopworth fibers shown above. In the top and bottom rows, magnifications are 40x, 200x and 800x. The second row shows a "mixed" fiber at 40x and 200x, with the two fibers isolated in the third row at 800x. Are you ready? Go! (Answers below.)

(Top row: cotton; Second row, mixed; Third row, bamboo and Merino; Bottom row, Coopworth)

Leicester Lustre

Day 9: Breeds of sheep are generally separated into two categories: those raised for wool and those destined for the meat locker. There is some latitude in those definitions, and some people raise cross-breeds which offer both options at the cost of excelling in neither. When I had sheep, I raised a Romney-Suffolk or Romney-Corriedale cross from which I generally got two adult fleeces from each animal as well as a lot of lamb-burger and chunks of mutton destined to become my favourite soup, Scotch broth. The wool from both was good for "every day," but not particularly silky or lustrous. Recently a friend offered me a pound of Blue-Faced Leicester fleece which, after surveying my fiber stash, I accepted gratefully. I've never spun BFL, but when I opened the parcel and saw the crimp and sheen of the wool, I knew I was going to love it. BFL is a long-staple fiber, and although the breed is primarily raised for meat, the wool is popular with handspinners for its length and softness. Thanks, Shelby!

Sheep In The Shower

 

Day 176: There will be more botanical bits coming up, but first I think I'd better 'splain 'bout the sheep in the shower. Y'see, when I started playing with cotton and the tahkli, it kicked my spinning urge into high gear. As soon as I felt I was getting sloppy with the tahkli and my cotton thread began exhibiting lumps and thin spots, I'd lay it aside and pull the Louët over to my chair so I could resume working on the "cinnamon-twist" yarn I started a year or so ago. Working with wool is a whole different ball game, one which most spinners will tell you is substantially easier than cotton. Right now, I'd agree with them, but I think once I've mastered the nuances of short fibers, I might even find it more restful than working with long-staple wool. But for now, shifting off to spinning wool relaxes me. After an hour or so, I'll be ready to pick up the tahkli again. So...'nuff said. Let's talk about the sheep. The white strand is Corriedale top: soft and silky, and came to me already prepared to go directly on the wheel. The brown was something I purchased at a bazaar, two pounds still in the grease. I washed it, teased it out, carded it and spun it separately. Then I plied the two strands, cinnamon and sugar together. The next step was soaking it in tepid water, and hanging it (weighted) in order to set the twist. Since our nights are still dipping below freezing, the "sheep" has to be moved from its clothesline pasture to a safe shelter before bedtime. The shower serves as the "barn." This makes bathing a bit tricky, for obvious reasons. The "cinnamon-twist" is a beautiful yarn, if I do say so myself, and now that I've reached the end of the bag, I have enough for a sweater/jumper. While these are hanging to dry, I'm working on some silver Gotland, a happy spinster at the wheel.

Sheepy Bizness

Day 42: As the vendor said to me when I protested that I really didn't need any more wool (but why else had I gone to the bazaar?), "The one who dies with the most wool wins, right?" Thus it was that two pounds of the cinnamon-coloured locks in the lower right foreground followed me home.

Spinning is my current alternate to quilting. When I need a break, I kick the quilt frame aside and take my Louet wheel from its position beside the fireplace to set in front of the same chair. Currently, I'm working with white Corriedale roving, but there's nothing like new fleece to hurry a project along. One of these days, I'll actually knit up some of the plied wools occupying a significant space in the cedar chest, or perhaps I'll weave them. And therein lies the rub: I can't decide how best to utilize handspun yarns.

Ranking 'round the clock, starting with the finished yarn in the upper left, the wools shown here are black lamb's-wool from the first lamb born in my care, a surprisingly light tan wool from my "black" ram, silver Gotland roving (delicious to spin), "in the grease" cinnamon lamb's-wool (the new acquisition), light grey washed fleece from a friend, and of course the white Corriedale on the spindle and in roving. Do you think I'm going to run out of things to do any time soon?

Hung For A Sheep

Day 43: The final stage in spinning wool is setting the twist, done by soaking the yarn and then hanging it to dry with weights (Gatorade bottles again) at the bottom. After an hour or two, the skeins should be advanced a little, and again in another few hours until the yarn is fully dry.

This is the wool I purchased at the Washington State Fair. I was unable to find any bags of exactly the same colour, so picked two which were close and equal in weight. I spun the dye lots separately and then plied them together, resulting in the lovely "tweedy" effect. That said, I'm going to be a little more critical when it comes to buying wool at the Fair if I do it again. One bag was good; the other was "padded" with tag ends combed out of the carders and included flecks of mylar, worthless puffs of a much softer and shorter wool, second cuts, straw and neps (tiny mats of fiber which are almost impossible to comb out). Nevertheless, I got 7.25 ounces of usable yarn from 8 ounces of stock, and the finished product is as pretty as I'd imagined it would be.

Little Lost Lamb

Day 40: I'm feeling a bit like Little Bo Peep after finding a long lost sheep in the bottom of the cedar chest. I was looking for a particular skein of yarn. It had to be in there somewhere, but by the time I'd hit bottom, I hadn't found it (it was in a different stash). As I was putting things back in, sweaters here, spun wool there, wool fabrics laid out flat, I came across a gallon Ziploc containing raw wool, black, very soft. Digging into it, I found a handwritten label: "Paskha." I couldn't believe my eyes.

Paskha was the first lamb born into the flock I maintained until I moved away from our Toadstool Acres family homestead. Looking back at photos, I found a date: 1988. Would forty-year old wool still be spinnable? Or would it have become brittle and too fragile? Several things were working in my favour. First, I'd picked the fleece before putting it away, nothing but prime locks in the bag. Second, I'd stored it "in the grease," i.e., without washing the lanolin out of it. I tested the fiber integrity with some heavy-handed carding. It was still in good condition. The bagful weighed out at two ounces, all I had left after the rest of Paskha's first shearing lamb's-wool had gone to make a sweater for a friend. I'm going to have to find a special purpose for the finished yarn, maybe in a Fair Isle yoke, little lost lamb returned to the fold.

Spinning Alpaca With Cousin Itt

Day 38: Alien life form? Rapunzel? Going overboard with Mo-vember? No, it's Cousin Itt, almost ready to start spinning some heavenly soft, long-staple alpaca/Romney blend, a whole pound of it purchased at the Ashford Christmas Bazaar. A friend had alerted me to the fact that there would be fiber-arts people there and the possibility of some fleece, so I showed up right at opening time, expecting to find spun yarns, weavings and maybe a little raw wool. What I did not expect was a wall of dyed and processed fibers, some in locks, some in roving. I fingered a lot of different types, trying to make a decision, but when the booth's proprietor made an offer of $30/pound for the alpaca blend, my budgetary resolve melted like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. I'm now officially up to my eyeballs in wool for spinning. Can you tell?

Dances With Wools

Day 32: By the time I got around to browsing the vendors at the Puyallup Fair this last September, much of the selection of dyed wool had been picked over and there were no two matching bags of roving in any hue I'd have considered for spinning. However, there were three or four which were similar, so I picked out the only two which didn't have mylar filaments: an aqua/blue/green combination and a blue/purple/black. Each bag contained four ounces, so by plying a strand of each, I'd have eight ounces of tweedy yarn, more than enough for a couple of hats. By its very nature, handspun has a distinctive look, but even moreso when using blended colours. Contrasted with commercially-produced, space-dyed yarns, the randomness possible with handspinning yields a truly unique product.

Quiet Time

Day 18: After a week of ideal hiking weather when I was out almost every day, now the autumn rains have started (a little too earnestly, thank you) and I've returned to my quiet-time projects. Having spun up the remainder of the raw wool, I washed one skein this morning and hung it to dry indoors, but the urge to spin was strong. I had three choices at hand: more grey Gotland (a recent purchase), a beautiful white Corriedale cross roving, or the dyed wool I'd bought at the Puyallup Fair: a blue/purple/black blend and an aqua/blue/purple, four ounces of each. I opted for the colours. I will spin all of each blend separately and then ply them together to maximize the randomness of the colours. The fiber is in "pencil roving," already carded and ready to go.

Putting A Spin On It

Day 359: I have finished up the grey Gotland wool (24 ounces) except for measuring and setting the twist in the last skein. Now I am spinning "in the grease," i.e. spinning raw, unwashed wool. The lanolin in the wool makes it a sticky job and it's not as easy as spinning from roving, but I find the sheepy scent enjoyable, if a little barnyardy. So far, the cats haven't investigated, although Tip picked up a tiny tuft of wool I'd dropped and wasn't at all happy that he couldn't get it off his tongue. I only have 7 ounces of raw wool to spin, just enough for a nice stocking cap. Next up is some lovely dyed fiber I bought at the Puyallup Fair.

Wool Anatomy

Day 332: As we were assembling to go on for our first dance set at St. Luke's English Fete, I noticed a woman demonstrating spinning, and laid out on a cloth at her feet were what appeared to be several fleeces. As soon as we were done dancing, I hurried over to find out if she was selling the wool. Then I noticed something I hadn't observed before: her right arm was missing from just above the elbow. I started chatting with her, watching her spin with one hand, and as the conversation progressed beyond fleece availability, she invited me to sit down beside her and as I did so, I noticed a pair of carders on the ground beside a basket of fluffy, carded wool. How did she manage? Carding for me has always been the hardest part of spinning because I've had a major shoulder repair and have very little strength in my right arm. I picked up a batt of wool, and even before I could ask the obvious question, she grabbed the carders and set one on her right knee, holding it in place with her amputee's stump, and took the other in her left hand, rested her forearm on her left knee and began pulling a new lock of fleece through the carding hooks. At that point, I explained about my injury and she happily coached me through the steps of her method. We swapped phone numbers and she offered to fill a bag with raw wool for me to take home. Using her carding method, I've filled a whole basket in just two sessions! Old dogs can be taught new tricks, no matter what people may think.

Working with raw wool is both a delight and a pain in the neck (or arm, if you don't use the right technique). Even skirted fleeces have some unsavoury bits, so it's best if you do your carding outdoors or with something on the ground at your feet which can be shaken out. Constant exposure to sun splits the ends of sheep hair just as it does human hair, so the tips of the locks are usually matted together. By working them gently with the carders, the tangles can be opened out. Spinners speak of certain attributes of various wool types, and these include crimp (the waviness or curliness of locks of fleece), staple (the length of the fiber) and micron size. Romney wool has a micron size of 31-38, and is one of the finest (size-wise) from the long-staple breeds.

Spin Cycle

Day 301: With interest in traditional home arts on the uptick over the last few decades, the availability of fibers has increased as well. No longer does the spinner have to raise their own sheep or find a rancher willing to sell a fleece. Now there are many sources for both natural and dyed materials: clean, carded and packaged as roving. I'll admit I've gotten a little spoiled, and definitely prefer to purchase wool in that form. After having a major shoulder repair some years ago, the process of carding wool puts too much strain on atrophied muscle and tight tendons, and I simply can't stay at the task long enough to prepare sufficient wool for an hour's spinning. With roving, I can tug off several sections and start spinning immediately. The fibers will have been straightened for me, and the material will be free of debris and neps, those nasty little tangled knots of wool which bunch up and leave lumps in the finished yarn.

Since I prefer to knit with lighter weight yarns, I usually spin two fine strands and then ply them together for strength. In this photo, the spindle is filled with single-ply Gotland (sheep) wool and the hank is a finished skein of double-ply. It is the same weight as the tan llama wool on the right, shown here in the process of being knit into a scarf. I am using #5 needles and a simple waffle pattern with a garter stitch hem, alternating knit and purl every five stitches and five rows.

Alpine Topper

Day 72: With Christmas crafting behind me, I took advantage of the last two days to knit myself a "head cozy" to keep myself warm while I'm out snowshoeing this winter. The Fair Isle construction of the "Alpine Topper" creates its own lining. In this instance, I've used wool/mohair roving (single ply) in shaded greens for the body of the hat and a softer, loftier rust-orange Merino "chain" yarn for the contrasting color. The Merino is carried on the back of the work, and is oh-so-soft against the ears! Even when wet, wool retains its insulating capability, so it's the perfect fiber for Pacific Northwest outdoor wear.

Flying Fingers

Day 66: Busy, busy, busy! Making socks has renewed my interest in knitting, a hobby I'd laid aside for a number of years in favour of crochet, hardanger and counted cross-stitch. When you pursue any craft on a regular basis, it tends to go stale at some point, and I'd become bored with Fair Isle, Aran and four-needle projects, regardless of the challenges they presented. With my mind on other things, I forgot how much I truly enjoyed knitting; listening to the clack of the needles, feeling the yarn slide over my fingers, watching the garment grow beneath my hands. After making a couple of pair of lightweight socks using wool blended with rayon made from bamboo, I decided I needed some heavy-weight wool "hikers." Knitting continental style ("picking" with the yarn held by the left hand), the work goes very quickly. With my sock drawer full now, I'll be donating several pair to the Park's Christmas party silent auction.

Knitting Around Corners

Day 44: The very thought of turning a heel is enough to put many needleworkers off the idea of knitting four-needle socks, but the process is actually quite simple to master. Once the cuff is complete, the stitches are redistributed so that the instep is divided onto two needles and the remainder of the stitches are slid onto one needle for the heel flap. The flap can be worked in different ways, but I prefer to add reinforcing thread at this point. For a cushiony, thick flap, Row 1 is sl 1, p across. Row 2 is *sl 1, k 1,* repeated across the row. Turning the heel is simply a matter of working short rows back and forth, increasing the distance travelled past the center mark by one stitch per row until there are no more stitches to work. The first stitch of these short rows is always a slip stitch.

Then comes the fun part! To make the triangular gussets, stitches are picked up along the edge of the heel flap and markers are put in place to indicate where the instep begins and ends. Knitting progresses to within three stitches of the first marker, two stitches are knit together and one stitch is knit plain. The instep is worked straight across, and when the second marker is reached, one stitch is knit, the next slipped, the next knit, and then the slipped stitch is passed over the knit stitch. Decreases are made in this manner, most often with a plain round between them, until the appropriate stitch count is reached. Then you're back to plain knitting (or patterned, if you want some variety). All that's left is decreasing for the toe and weaving the last few stitches together. Oh, and making Sock #2. Double the fun!