Too Much Wool

home is where ....

As promised, some pictures from my week out of the city.

First off, we have the adorable Annemie, of Countrywool

Annemie's sister (more or less) Sidney was my favorite bunny of all, but her photos came out looking like scary-demonbunny because of overwhelming red-eye. Sorry Sidney.

After visiting the bunnies and Claudia at Countrywool, we stopped at Olana (very close to Countrywool, and worth a trip in itself), an historic house and its landscaped grounds that belonged to the Hudson River School painter Frederick Edwin Church.
The Hudson River School being inspired by the Hudson River, obviously.

And justifiably so.

Then we have wee little froggy

who was about an inch long or so, and matched absolutely everything around him. I'd like to say he was a cooperative subject, but I think mostly he was scared out of his wits by the two giant monsters in his environment.

I had been hoping that I'd come home with a finished shawl, ready to be blocked, but I didn't. I have just a few more rows to go, and the edging, and then its time for blocking. I have what seems to be a decent ball left, and was considering adding a half repeat, but I'm thinking now that I'm just going to finish it off and be done with it, ending my worries about running out of yarn.  I'm just a few rows short of the suggested number for  the smaller, 'scarf' sized version of the shawl. If I block it "severely" as Sivia suggests, I think it will be about the same size as my Leaf Lace shawl.

In case the bunny wasn't enough fiber content for you, I also took a picture of my purchases (and my spinning)

I bought a lovely cardigan vest pattern from Claudia (you can see the pullover version HERE), as well as three extra bobbins for my wheel (much needed), and some bunny/wool blend. You can see my latest spinning, which is a Copper Moth wool/silk blend, resting on top. Obviously, I had so much fun spinning that variegated stuff that I went and bought angora/wool roving to match. They're not quite that close in person, but... they're pretty close.

 

jumping the gun

Well, I jumped the gun. We're still here. But here are a few things I learned in the country:

• Guys with guns make lots of noise. For no reason. Take them to the woods, give them something to break the silence with, and they will.
• Turkeys are ugly. Put them together in a flock of 10 or 12 and .... they're still really freaking ugly. Scenic? Bucolic? Natural? No. They're u.g.l.y.
• Nearsighted people in the woods will not see adorable little frogs that perfectly match the rocks near the creek. Nearsighted people without their glasses are even more hopeless.
• If a nearsighted person wants to go into the murky woods, its always a good idea to bring along a sweet tasting daughter (for the mosquitoes and for finding frogs).
• If you put away your spinning wheel, it is guaranteed it will take an extra day to get the car's wheels aligned and you will need to unpack your wheel. Don't put away your spinning wheel until you are about to leave.

citymouse weekend

I've spent several days, even more than a weekend in the country, and I've been trying to figure out how to blog about my revelations.

I've joked in the blog about me and my sheep and fleece in the city. About how incongruous it all is and how maybe I need to consider relocating to someplace more sheep-friendly and rural. Having just spent four days in the country... well, I don't know.

First off, my parent are obsessed with a rattlesnake. See, there's been a drought in these parts and the rattlesnakes are coming down off the mountain and they had to have one removed from their porch; it had taken up residence under the stone step for the duration. I've aggravated them beyond belief by repeatedly asking what in the world makes them think that there's anything wrong with a rattlesnake being on their property. They're on the side of a mountain. It gets dry, the snakes come down -- its all natural, no? I come off as sounding insensitive and negative.

Then, here I am, in the country. I get a chance to visit with bunnies, and with sheep and goats and ... well.... I love bunnies. I know that for a fact. But I've also discovered that just because there are sheep and goats at the fairgrounds in Rhinebeck doesn't mean that there's a wool festival. Just the presence of fried dough on the hallowed ground of the NY S&W festival does NOT give any guarantee of a Rhinebeck-quality experience.

In other words, a fairground and sheep does not a wool festival make. And me and wool in the country does not necessarily equal a happy fiber person.

I got to visit Countrywool and Claudia on Saturday. I fell in love with a chocolate bunny, bought stuff, and had a wonderful visit at Countrywool. I spun in the country air. I knit with handspun on my shawl. I ate homegrown veggies and breathed fresh country air. Both Alice and Moe enjoyed the company of chickadees and hummingbirds and wild turkeys and still, I wasn't home. 'Home is where you hang your hat' - well, yeah, but there's also the commitment and the longer term dedication to a place and a lifestyle.

It's not that I'm not having a great time - some of the problem, like last time, is that its being a guest in someone else's house (in this case with a lot of extended family around) and I'm not used to that. I'm a city person, but my home is normally very quiet, with just the three of us around. I'd love to try the 'experiment' of seeing what staying for weeks or months in a quiet place would be like, alone or with just my immediate family.

This is most likely the last post without pictures. I'm heading home later today, if things work out as planned. I have pictures, nothing spectacular, but I'll upload them and see what comes of it all. Every time I try to capture the subtle nuances of things like a late summer cloud-filled sky or the view from a mountaintop, the pictures I try to take never give the true measure of the experience.

another grand experiment

So, in order to save my sanity, flee the city, and try to be a family-ish person who actually spends time with their family, I'm blogging from the fine fresh air of Ulster County, NY.

Anyone remember the last time? Frank the Bunny? No pictures for a week? Me, talking about things with... no pictures for a week?

Well, hold onto your hats, we're going for round two. No pictures for a week. Last time I forgot my cable for the camera. This time I -once again - forgot my cable. I will take pictures and try to post them when I return.

So, in fleeing the smog and pollution and asthma-inducing wonder that is NYC in the summer (breathing has been kicking my ass lately, which is scary and not too fun), I tried not to pack like a lunatic.

I brought

• two books, one on Andean weaving (Woven Stories) and one with no pictures
• my spinning wheel
• enough bunnycrack to keep me busy for about a week
• my handspun 'fantasyland' (Diamond Fantasy - DFS) shawl.
• Alice and Mo and all of their paraphenalia

The operating idea was that if I only brought one knitting project, then I would be forced to knit on it. So far, so good. I knit through an entire chart repeat between the car and evening hanging out with the family. 4.5 repeats down, 1.5 to go. Very good.

Spinning is always a good thing here too. It mesmerizes me into forgetting that I don't drive and can't get away from .... um... my family.

Now, I must admit, I'm planning another visit to Countrywool. Because last time the bunny barns were off limits, and this time, they're open, and .... well, I love bunnies. And its entirely possible that I might need more stuff to spin. Because... oh, nevermind. No, I'm not running out. Its just that... sigh. Nevermind.

Last night, after dinner, when I was sitting at the table knitting my handspun shawl (somehow the other adult knitting women at the table seemed under-impressed by the fact that the handspun was handspun), my grandma insisted on grilling me.

Gram: What's that you're making?

Me: A shawl.

Gram: Another shawl? What happened to the red one? [she loves my Highland Triangle Shawl] Is this the same pattern or different?

Me: Its a new pattern, it just looks similar because both patterns have points at the edging.

Gram: What the hellerya gonna do with all those shawls?

I'd really just like to know how that particular attitude managed to pass directly from my grandmother to my daughter, neatly skipping two full generations. You'd think that kind of aberrant thinking would just... die out. Or something.

learning curve

The whole idea of weaving is really putting me through my paces.

It's been years since I had to deal with anything that made me feel this inadequate.

I remember when I was little, and looked at my grandmother's knitting patterns. The k1, p2, ssk, yo, p2tog TBL, stuff always looked like the embodiment of what the phrase "its Greek to me" was supposed to convey. A different language. A secret code only for the initiates. A way to separate those who understand from those who don't.

When I started spinning it was similar. Twist, ratio, singles, plying, crimps, fleeces, neps, drafting -- etc.... all seemed to be conspiring to make me feel illiterate. Unable to speak the language and iterate what I was experiencing with this newfound obsession.

Of course, when I got back to knitting, and when I started spinning, I wasn't yet blogging.

I have a bunch of weaving books. I've found it interesting to look through my library recently and to realize how many of the books I've bought in the past two years were  oracles, predicting a future interest in weaving.

But in the past week I've managed to pick up the two latest issues of Handwoven magazine, and I'm still finding that the language is eluding me. I think I'm struggling more with this initial lack of comprehension because its public. Blogging makes all of our mistakes and triumphs more than private obsessions.

I will admit that I do, in many ways, enjoy the challenge of learning a new set of words and the background info that goes along with it. I guess what I'm enjoying the least is the public admittance of my ignorance. But there's always a learning curve and I'm on it, somewhere.

priority shift

Sometimes, we are forced to choose between photographs that show our handwork and photographs that show our adorable pets.

I think its pretty obvious that I went for the pet shot here.

I've finished spinning and plying almost exactly 500 yards of Santa Fe bunny blend. What you see here, mostly in a hazey out-of-focus way, is the washed and ready to knit yarn. You can also see the huge pile of books on the endtable and my woolcombs, behind Alice.

I haven't done a lot of anything yet this week. We're heading out of town for the end of the week and my knitting and spinning have been non-existent. Weaving? I'm still waiting on a shuttle and trying to digest the mountains of new terminology that are necessary for understanding the barebones of this art.

The only other fiber news to report is that I did manage to wash and dry 12 oz of Polwarth fleece I bought on Sunday.

I realized at some point, while washing fleece in the midst of the morning rush, that suddenly my priorities have shifted. The weather is warm and not too humid? Must be time to wash fleece.

Fantasyland

The work on the Diamond Fantasy Shawl progresses:

And the close-up:

I realize that I put nothing in the picture for scale, sorry about that. It took a lot of photographing to get a good picture. The shape is quite distorted because I have it on a 24" circular needle and therefore it looks longer and skinner than it really is, because I can't stretch out the top very well to show the proper proportions.

I've just finished the third repeat of the main pattern chart - the scarf size calls for 5 repeats, and its looking like I'm doing fine with the amount of handspun I have.

The loom continues to sit in the living room and amaze me. I don't have a shuttle yet and haven't actually gotten to play with the weaving process yet, but I'm trying to learn the ideas behind it. I'm lucky in that the loom is already warped, so I've got something to play with right away and don't have to start right in on what I understand is the trickiest part of the whole weaving process.

I've been reading about weaving and learning a whole new vocubulary. Dents. Heddles. Beater. Shed. Reed. The book I have is Deborah Chandler's Learning to Weave. I think its probably got everything I need to know in it. For the weaving folks out there - any suggestions for favorite sources of inspiration or information?

The universe conspires

Yesterday, I took a friend for a visit to NYC's one and only fiberarts shop. You know, the  Shangri-la of yak and camel and other lovely spinning fibers. The very place I learned to spin.

While I was there browsing, the owner, who is a friend (but someone I hadn't seen in months) asked me, was it possible that my daughter was interested in weaving? I figured she was starting a kids or young adult weaving class.

"Daughter?" says I, "Why, as a matter of fact I'm interested in weaving. Why?"

And at that point.... you know how the world slows down when you're watching a train wreck as though in slow motion or an accident that is just about to unfold in front of your eyes? When you can't quite tell if the oncoming truck is going to hit you or not but you know that the world is moving at half speed while you await impact? At that point she said something about a loom and a trade and something-something, and was I interested? (As she led me to a loom sitting forlornly in a corner of the workspace.)

With the slowing down of the earth on its axis and my mind and reality all in a fog, I had nothing to lose, really. I resignedly asked, "Well, what are you asking for it - how much?"

She said, "No, no. Nothing. It just needs a good home."

I realize that this doesn't sound plausible. If I didn't have the reliable witness of a dear friend who heard every word (which I've liberally paraphrased, because you know none of it seems real and I'm still waiting for someone to smack me back to reality and consciousness), I know no one would ever believe me.

In the name of all things sheepish, wooly, fibrous and wonderful, I do not lie.

A loom fell out of the sky, hit me upside the head, adopted me, and came home with me yesterday.

The details are fuzzy. It's a Schacht 15", 4 shaft table loom with a floor stand. [I had to go online just to figure all of that out.] Its warped and has 6" of something on it, but aside from having all of its other parts, I still need to procure a shuttle (or two?) and a threading hook or something like that. I got a book. There's vocabulary I have to study up on before I can have any kind of discussion about weaving.

But, dudes? There is a LOOM in my house. A big, fat, real live loom. Given that I'm still in shock and relatively incoherent regarding the whole episode, I'd advise you to go read Juno's blog, because she was the good friend who was there and helped me haul it home, and has more photo documentation of the event than I was able to work up. She also shared my total and complete stupefaction and disbelief at the amazing turn of events, which she managed while laughing at the odd little 'eeps' of excitement that kept escaping from me.

That worn out old saying, 'Be careful what you wish for'?

I'm the freaking poster girl.

Wish me luck.

____________________________________________________________

Just a note: I'm really overwhelmed and truly flabbergasted by the generosity of the dear fiber artist who gifted me with the loom (and btw, I am indeed sharing it with my daughter, who actually is interested in weaving). I don't mean to underplay the fact that there was a person, a generous and lovely person, who was the universe's hand in bestowing this kindness upon me.

andes

In Cassieland

In Cassieland

we call this a swatch.

In Cassieland, we don't really read directions, pattern keys, or notes before starting a new project. Resulting in things like having an extra stitch or so per row, because "BO 5 sts" was dismissed as illogical, and therefore only 4 sts were bound off. Necessitating an impromptu K2tog at the end of two consecutive rows.

Neither do we start with the recommended needle size - I'm knitting with handspun, damnit, I can do whatever I want.

In Cassieland, we think that drinking wine while knitting lace is just fine. And knitting lace, drinking wine, and watching subtitled movies, all at once? Even better.

Therefore we come to ignore instructions such as "add stitch markers on row 12". Fie on row twelve! Stitch markers? Cassies don't need stitch markers, neither do they recommend that others use them. [I'm asking for it now.]

Here, we throw caution to the wind. One shawl on the needles already? Two, perhaps? To hell with them! they're not new, exciting or handspun. Cast on, with abandon and despair mania, through all crises [to bastardize EZ].

A sweater? In time for Rhinebeck? No such promise was made, no vows taken, no deadlines set.

Because, really, when you're making your own yarn, you're already asking for trouble, being subversive. Why stop there?

And lest you think that I've set the scene for a major disaster

Here is my midnight progress on the Diamond Fantasy Shawl in handspun Icelandic/mohair yarn.