Time To A-ply Myself

Day 17: It's time to "a-ply" myself to the task! There's a system here, not a backlog. You see, it's recommended that after spinning a "singles" (I'd call it a "single," but the spinning community uses "singles" as a singular noun), you let the yarn have at least 24 hours to rest and adjust to its new twisted lifestyle. This gives it time to get the kinks out before it's asked to twist the opposite direction in tandem with another "singles." I spin one bobbin and set it aside. Then I spin another. In order to give the second one its rest, then I will spin a third (in this case, of a different colour), and when that one is off the wheel, then I can ply the first two singles together. Alternately, I can spin two more singles as I've done here, which gives the second two a chance to rest while I ply the first two. It really isn't as complicated as it sounds. In the end, these four bobbins will yield two double-ply yarns and will then be freed up for the next round of singles spinning.

Busy Day

Day 326: Yesterday was a busy and very productive day on the fiberarts scene. Not only did I complete the third of the three panels for the summer-and-winter piece, I finished plying a four-ounce skein of yarn. If that doesn't sound like enough, I also devised a method for making tidy selvedges when weaving krokbragd on the frame loom which was a September Morn present-to-self. The system can be adapted to the rigid heddle as well. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before: simply weave two or more selvedge threads in tabby. D'uh! As for the summer-and-winter, I still have quite a bit of warp left on the loom. I always add extra. There might even be enough for a fourth panel, although I wouldn't want to add it to the coverlet. I will probably use it for a matching pillow. It will be a week or ten days before I'm ready to take this weaving off the loom, but I feel I can rest on my laurels, knowing the coverlet panels are done and, I might add, in record time (August 10-September 3, i.e., 24 days). What's next? I'm considering another coverlet, this time in overshot. We'll see. I have a week or two to think about it.

Spinning My Wheels

Day 318: I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels, and for at least a portion of the day over the last several months have been doing exactly that in one form or another. The current project on my Louët is reddish-purple Corriedale top, spun at a fingering weight (i.e., 18-22 wraps per inch). That's kinda my default diameter for Corriedale, and I tend to spin Merino somewhat finer on this wheel. On the other hand, when I'm using a drop spindle, my default for Merino thins down to 26 WPI. I seldom spin heavier yarns these days, largely because commercially produced fine yarns have become prohibitively expensive in recent years. Besides, if you spin your own, you get double the pleasure of working with fibers, and I do prefer to knit with fine yarns. That said, I'd hoped to upgrade my spinning wheel for September Morn this year, but was knocked out by several hefty financial setbacks at the start of the year. Oh well, Louët and I have been friends for fifty years now, and as long as I am able to find replacement parts when the inevitable breakdowns occur, we'll keep the partnership alive.

Almost Showtime!

Day 296: Two weeks from now, these four items will be delivered to the Washington State Fair (Puyallup Fair). The waffle-weave coverlet is my sole entry in the Weaving Division. The other three will be competing in Spinning in the classes Socks, Blended Fibers (the center skein) and Drop Spindle. The Fair runs from September 1-24, open every day except Tuesdays and Sept. 6. Unfortunately, my reservations with regard to COVID and being in public places will mean that I do not attend, but I'll be using the time wisely, working on pieces for the 2024 season.

And Now To Knit

Day 180: Handspun yarn can present its own unique challenge to knit in that it may or may not conform to the gauge required in any particular pattern. I tend to spin almost all my double-ply wool in an approximation of worsted-weight, and I am rather proud of the fact that out of 41.8 ounces of "cinnamon twist," I only have a variation of 3 yards/ounce between the thinnest of eight skeins and the thickest. I've worked with machine-produced yarns with greater variation than that! This morning, I knit up a test swatch and was pleasantly surprised when it came in at exactly the gauge given for my favourite raglan pattern, so now I can jump straight into knitting without having to make adjustments to the pattern itself. There is more than enough wool here for the sweater/jumper, but I may incorporate a design into the yoke in pure "cinnamon" and/or white Corriedale "sugar" which, you might have guessed, I spun up at the same weight. In fact, in some countries, spinners show a preference for spinning at a single thickness, then plying two, three or four strands to obtain different weights of yarn. This "practice makes perfect" technique makes it easier for the spinner to judge and control the amount of raw wool slipping between the fingers and therefore they are able to achieve a more uniform thread.

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.

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.

Spinning "In The Grease"

Day 22: There are various methods for preparing wool for spinning, but spinning "in the grease" follows the shortest route from sheep to wheel. First, the fleece is "skirted" to remove dags (fleece locks heavily matted with dung), second-cuts and other unusable portions and then the spinner may opt to spin directly from locks, or the wool can be "carded" to align the fibers preparatory to spinning. In the carding process, bits of moss and grass are picked out, matted tips opened, etc., ideally to have the wool as free of foreign matter and problem areas as possible. This is done without washing the raw wool. Many wool growers keep their sheep in canvas coats between shearings in order to keep the wool as clean as possible. Even so, when the fleece comes to the hands of the spinner, it will be greasy with natural lanolin and consequently, not precisely what one would term "pristine." Spinning "in the grease" (without washing) has its advantages. The wool fibers slip easily between the fingers, and that lovely lanolin conditions the spinner's hands. Nevertheless, it's a dirty job. These two images show the identical skein of handspun yarn before washing and after.

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.

Llast Of The Llama

Day 284: The estimable Ogden Nash tells us
The one-l lama,
He's a priest.
The two-l llama,
He's a beast.
And I will bet a silk pajama 
There isn't any three-l lllama.

It's amazing how few people realize that the "three-l lllama" refers to a fire alarm..."three-alarmer"...but then, there is a large section of society which can't get two- and three-letter words right ("to" and "too," and gods forbid that they should have to rise to the challenge of "their," "there" and "they're").

Mr. Nash aside, I am done with my two-l llama. Even as I write, the third skein is hanging, weighted with a couple of bottles of water to stretch and set the twist. It's been a long time in the making, owing to the fact that a simple plastic part failed on my wheel, a part for which it took several years to find a supplier and longer for it to be stocked for sale. It was a five-minute fix once I had it in hand, slightly longer to find where I'd stashed the remaining wool, less than a week to finish up 503 yards (roughly 8 ounces) of soft, silky sportweight double-ply yarn.

Now I find myself in limbo between projects. The llama is off the wheel, the weaving is off the loom. More wool is due to arrive this weekend (a lovely grey Gotland from Swedish sheep), and four more cones of 8/2 cotton will be here before the end of the month, but for now, I need to find a way to keep my hands busy.

Plying

Day 277: Happy to finally have my spinning wheen back in operation after months of waiting for a silly little backordered part (the footman-to-treadle connector, a flexible plastic rod 8 mm. in diameter and approximately two inches long), I had even forgotten that I had one spindle of tan single-ply llama wool already done. I spun up an approximately equivalent amount on a second spindle, and then settled into the less-demanding job of turning two single plies into two-ply yarn.

Right now, you might be thinking, "Why not just spin a single thicker strand?" The answer is simple: strength. When spinning, the twist enters the yarn in the direction of an S or a Z depending on the spinner's preference. In plying, two strands are spun separately, each with the same twist, and then are recombined as a double-ply with the twist in the opposite direction. In other words, two S-twist single-ply strands are spun together with a Z-twist. In effect, this untwists the original strands slightly and allows a few fibers of wool to become entangled with each other, binding the strands together and making a stronger, more durable yarn in the end. I almost always ply my yarns unless I'm going for a "novelty" look. In this case, the resultant yarn is a nice sport-weight, more work, but double the fun of spinning.

Lozenges Lap-robe

Day 104: As you might expect for someone who knits and crochets as much as I do, I wind up with a lot of tag ends of yarn in a very wide array of colours. Thrifty Scot that I am, these can't just be assigned to the bin. They have to be used down to the last few inches. One of the ways I use up the longer pieces is in "scrap-ghans" where each horizontal row is a different colour, but usually with a unifying colour repeating at regular intervals. Here, seven rows of lozenges are separated by an eighth row in black. The edge of the afghan will also be worked in black. This one is destined to be sold at Mount Rainier National Park's Christmas party silent auction. Proceeds benefit the employee fund which in turn pays for the Christmas party. It's a self-renewing loop!

Ship's Hawser And Telephone Poles

Day 90: I am six hats into a second dozen I'll be sending to the Joppa Flats Audubon Education Center, and I am grateful to the friends who have donated a variety of yarns for the project. That said, I don't ordinarily work with needles larger than size 5 and never with yarn heavier than worsted. My hands are small and I prefer to work with finer gauge materials. However, the last batch of yarn to come into my hands included a couple of skeins of bulky. I moved up to size 7 needles in one instance and to size 9 for the white/almond fleck shown here. I felt like I was knitting ship's hawser with a pair of telephone poles!

Yarn Holder

Day 33: Knitters use a variety of containment systems for their working yarns. I've seen the thread emerging from a ceramic elephant's trunk, for example, or from a hole in the top of a lidded basket. I've used cardboard boxes, coffee cans, and yes, even a knitter's caddy, but mostly, I just put the skein on the chair beside me if it's being used in a short-term project like socks. My knitting assistant is keeping it from slipping off onto the floor.

Skunk came to me at six weeks old, a feisty little thing who'd fended off two kitten-eating dogs at the cost of nearly losing a paw. Consequently, she wasn't the friendliest of cats, didn't like being touched, wouldn't sit on my lap. When she was seven, she lost her hearing and went into a severe and nearly fatal decline. During her recovery, her personality changed. Now she demands lap-time and will insert herself under whatever project is in my hands, there to sleep until I can no longer resist the urge to get up and move around. As yarn holders go, you can't beat one which also serves as a purring lap-warmer!

Reinventing The Honeycomb

Day 60: Every winter, there comes a point when I say, "What in the world am I going to do for a blog post today?" As much as I'd like your daily feed to be one which educates and informs and is related to nature, it's not always possible for me to find subject matter when the weather dictates staying inside. In fact, it's sometimes even difficult to find things to keep myself entertained, let alone my demanding (~cough~) readership. But desperation is often a good motivator, and at least insofar as keeping my hands employed, I've found a project. Not content with making a boring old granny-square afghan to use up tag ends of yarn, I decided to create my own "honeycomb" pattern.

Bees are masters of architecture. The six-sided cells of a honeybee's comb make efficient use of space even while providing structural integrity many other shapes lack. Geometrically speaking, the honeycomb pattern requires less material to create a lattice within a given space. A similar structure occurs when soap bubbles intersect, if not as uniformly laid out. Drawing on our precious pollinators' lesson in efficiency, it took me half an hour to develop a pattern I liked. Maybe I was inspired by my grandmother's repetition of Isaac Watts' poem during my childhood:

How doth the little busy bee   
  Improve each shining hour,   
And gather honey all the day   
  From every opening flower.   

How skilfully she builds her cell;           
  How neat she spreads her wax,   
And labors hard to store it well   
  With the sweet food she makes.   

In works of labor or of skill,   
  I would be busy too;           
For Satan finds some mischief still   
  For idle hands to do.   

In books, or work, or healthful play,   
  Let my first years be passed;   
That I may give for every day           
  Some good account at last.

Rugs In The Raw

Day 88: With my last project fresh off the loom, I was anxious to get started on another one, but when I dove into my weaving supplies, I discovered that I was short on cotton warp by about half. I contacted my supplier to order more, and was delightfully surprised when they shipped it to me with two-day delivery at no extra cost. One craftsperson to another, I'm sure they understood my desire to get started right away.

Setting up a loom to weave is a multi-phase endeavour, beginning with selecting a pattern and determining the number of ends (threads) and length of warp required. When you are making small projects, it is more economic to warp for several items at once, otherwise there is too much wastage. I decided I wanted to make five rugs approximately 22" x 30", so I measured off six yards of warp per 288 ends to be sleyed at 12 dents per inch. Once the warp was measured out, I removed it from the warping board and "chained" it over my hands to prevent tangles. The next step will be mounting it on the loom. Small bundles of warp will be weighted so they can be evenly wound onto the back beam, and when that is done, each end will be brought first through the eye of a heddle and then through a slot in the reed. The heddles must be threaded in the sequence specified by the draw-down (pattern) in order to create a design. I will be using traditional birdseye in this case. Once threaded through heddles and reed, the warp bundles will be tied to the cloth beam and the actual weaving may be begun.

Weaving itself is a repetitive and rhythmic action. The shuttle flies back and forth as the weaver's feet dance on the treadles which raise and lower the heddles in their harnesses. The clatter of the loom is a soothing sound, metal heddles rustling, wood clapping against wood, the shuttle whisking through the opened shed of fibers. It is easy to get lost in the harmonies of weaving, easy to lose sight of time and cares. The loom is an instrument, and the weaver a musician, playing a score of cloth into existence beneath gifted hands. These are not rugs I weave; they are the songs of fibers set in motion by the magical loom.

No Idle Hands

Day 49: Of the many things my grandmother taught me, one basic piece of philosophy stands out: keep your hands busy. She expressed this tenet by saying, "Idle hands are the devil's playground," and while I don't believe in devils, it's quite true that boredom opens doors for mischief in most people, mild or otherwise. It may manifest as something as simple as snacking too heavily. After all, your hands want something to do. Why shouldn't they pick up a scoop of nuts or a piece of chocolate and convey it to your mouth? Busy hands are happy hands, and as you might infer, mine have had plenty to do with more to come. This display doesn't show what's already boxed for shipping, just a few last-minute projects to keep my fingers out of trouble.