The Coming Year

Day 79: Come what may, a ranger must always present a smile to the public, be courteous even when there is need to be firm, be welcoming and warm. We are the face of the parks we represent, and it is our duty to be good hosts to those who visit us. We must try to maintain our public image even in our private lives.

2017 was a rough year, but I tried my best to bring you science in an easily digestible (or at least entertaining) way. I know I strayed from the path a few times, removing my metaphorical hat for a few minutes to become "just Crow," and I thank you for your indulgence of those moments. I hope to continue inspiring you intellectually, and to introduce you to facets of nature you might otherwise not have seen or noticed. If you follow me on Facebook or Flickr, it is my hope that you will leave a comment now and then if my writings have struck a chord with you, because without feedback, it is easy to think I'm talking to a blank wall.

Whatever 2018 holds for us, may the wonders of Nature inspire you and carry you through the dark times I fear are ahead. Let's all try to keep smiling.

Sew Many Things

Day 78: As newly-appointed Kit Mistress for Sound & Fury Morris, my job is to see to it that members are properly outfitted with the custom costume items they can't buy off the shelves. In particular, this means that I need to have on hand baldrics (bandoliers) and armbands for new members. With Wassail coming up on January 6 and three new people in the side, I have been stitching up a storm the last few days! I'm still short a few bits and bobs, notably our signature logo patches which are at the center crosses of the baldrics (front and back), but fortunately Wassail is largely a celebration which takes place in the homes of other Morris dancers. Only one public performance is on the roster, so hopefully the lack of full regalia will be forgiven.

As Gifts Go...

Day 77: Roughly forty-five years ago, my husband gave me a gift which caused my face to fall and my eyebrows to raise, bewildered at the logic of his selection. I mean, what earthly purpose could one person have for a five-pound cone of string, described on its label as being something to the tune of ten miles...MILES!...in length. Here, almost half a century later, I have come to regard this most unusual of presents as one of the most useful I have ever received. I've whittled it down to just over a pound, bits of it going to tie plants to stakes, serve as stitch markers in my knitting, truss a turkey, hang pictures, bind parcels, secure the Christmas tree against attacks by parrots and cats, lay out planting lines in the garden, bundle herbs and lavender for drying...the list goes on and on. It has even doubled for carpet warp in weaving. Not a time goes by when I snip off a few inches that I don't think, "I'm going to run myself out of string some day" with a silent nod of thanks to Bruce's thoughtfulness. Its utility has even surpassed that of a box of sewing thread he once gave me, approximately 100 spools of every colour sold except pink shades. For decades, I never bought a spool of thread, confident that I had something to match any fabric I might purchase. The thread is gone now, as is Bruce, but a pound of string remains. Which of us will outlast the other?

Weaving Mechanics

Day 76: I realize some of you are having trouble following the specialized terminology inherent with weaving, so I've put together a handy-dandy guide to the mechanics of a loom and how the warp is slung. I realize now that I should have lettered it from right to left because that's the direction warping proceeds, but I think we can work with this.

As you saw in yesterday's post, the first part of the process is stretching the warp. Here, we are picking up the method with the warp wound onto the warp beam (J). This consists of a large roller on which is mounted a canvas "apron." The apron serves to keep the warp threads from stacking up on themselves as the roller is turned. As the warp is wound beyond the apron, posterboard or some other separator is used to cushion the threads. (H) shows the warp on the roller.

The warp comes from the roller and may pass through a raddle (I) mounted on the back beam. This optional device divides the warp threads into bundles and helps keep the tension even. A loose warp thread can cause all sorts of problems in the cloth! From the raddle, the warp threads come forward horizontally (G) and each passes through a heddle in a specific order. This is what determines the pattern of the weave. The heddles are held in harnesses (D), frames which are raised in sequence by means of treadles. At (E), the loose warp is hanging at the front of the heddles, ready for the next step; at (C), the warp is through the heddles and reed (A).

Now the warp threads must pass through the reed (A) which is held in the beater bar (B). The beater bar is the portion of the loom which beats the weft threads into place. It is operated by the weaver's free hand, the other being occupied with the shuttle. From the reed, the warp is then brought over the breast beam (not shown) and tied to the front apron. As weaving progresses, the finished fabric is wound onto the cloth beam (F), a roller similar to that at the back of the loom.

There are other methods of sleying a loom (the term used for this whole procedure), and will vary according to the weaver's preference and the type of loom being employed. Mine is a four-foot, four-harness rising-shed loom, i.e., the treadles cause the harnesses to rise rather than sink. I also have a three-foot, four-harness table loom which is operated with jacks (hand levers) rather than treadles. Since my shoulder reconstruction, I have found the jack loom difficult to use. That said, the rhythm of weaving is almost meditative, and once I'm in the swing of passing the shuttle back and forth, I can relax into it, knowing that the hard work of threading is behind me.

Warp Solo

Day 75: The rose-path scarf/table runner is off the loom, although I still have the fringes to tie, so today I started warping for another throw-rug project. I measured the warp yesterday, left it on the board to stretch overnight, and this afternoon, I mounted it preparatory to winding it onto the back beam. This is the part where I always wish for an assistant. It was so much easier when my husband was around to handle the chain, shaking out any tangles which might have been created in the process of transferring it. The job of the assistant is to maintain uniform tension on the warp as the weaver winds it onto the warp beam, a task better suited to an octopus. When done solo, the challenge is even greater. "Uniform tension," I say to myself. "What have I got six or eight of around here?" I've used an assortment of things over the years, but today all I had on hand were six bottles of Gatorade. Since only about a foot of warp can be wound before the weights hit the front beam, this requires being able to move the weights down the length of warp easily. I am tempted here to use that well-known "double positive" which becomes a negative: Yeah, right. Two hours later, I was done with the full twelve feet, although the ends still have to be drawn through the heddles and the reed before I can begin weaving.

Experimenting On A Monkey

Day 74: What does it take for a recipe to be considered "original?" Certainly it requires more than changing the order in which ingredients are assembled, but when you substitute one item for another, the line starts to blur. When you go all out as I did this morning when I failed to find exactly what I wanted for an upcoming event, borrowing a measure of flour from one source, taking a dollop of sweetening from another, altering proportions, adjusting times and including a few secrets from my personal larder, it is tempting to say that the newly-created recipe merits the distinction of being called "original."

I've been hunting for a good Monkey Bread Pull-Apart loaf for years. I was not satisfied with the raised versions I found in professional cookbooks, and I steered widely away from the quick-and-dirty internet versions which all seemed to be based in biscuit dough. I wanted a raised, lightly sweet single loaf which could be equally good with or without fruit and/or nuts. As a long-time breadmaker, I finally realized the solution was at my fingertips: build my own. I settled into the serious lab work this morning, and if I do say so myself, the resultant Monkey came through the experiment with flying colours.

Season's Greetings

Day 73: Regardless of what "season" you celebrate, the residents of Lichenopolis (Crow, Skunk and Tippy) wish you all the best. We are enjoying snow on the ground and not-too-cold temps this Christmas morning, and will be joined by a friend for dinner this evening. Happy Christmas, all!