. . . and I swear the stuff could have been the blob that ate New York!
The lighting is so bad lately that I can’t get a good shot of the color, but it’s a very dark grey made warmer by the chocolate-bleached tips. This fleece:
But, it’s done. 1200 grams of carded batts out of 2kg of fleece. 1200 grams in 28 lovely, lofty, smushy batts. There was approximately 210 grams of waste from the flicking and carding, so figure that about 590 grams of weight was lost in washing. In other words, approximately 30% of the 2kg weight was suint, and total weight loss in wash/prep was 40%. That sounds like a large number, but it really isn’t. Not for a fairly high-grease finer wool fleece.
But it is a bit of an intimidating hulk, isn’t it?
(The camera flash washed out the batts in front; they’re all as dark as the ones in the bin.)
There are 18 batts, weighing 40-50 grams each for over 740 grams (over 26 ounces). It’s this Polwarth fleece:
There are about 600 grams left to card, and I’ll admit that I’d like to be finished already. I refuse to start spinning until I’ve got it all carded–but I swear the stuff is turning into the fiber equivalent of the loaves and fishes!
If you haven’t guessed, it’s been a tough semester. I’m afraid the blog simply had to sit and wait until life returned to some degree of normalcy. Of course, that only took three months, but hey–who’s counting? Christmas was, I’m afraid, a thing to get through after a very hard week, but I’ve had the last four days off, and that really has felt like a gift. I ended the semester exhausted and on a horribly short fuse, so having the last few days without work could not have come at a better time. Just ask my DH; he’s found me an easier person to live with lately. I think.
It’s been wonderful. I’ve slept a lot, knitted a little, read the four books in Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching young adult series, started another of the Thursday Next mysteries by Jasper Fforde, spun a tiny bit, flicked some Bond locks, and carded some Polwarth batts. And you know, I have to tell you that my definition of luxury has changed. I spent part of today watching episodes of NCIS LA with the electric carder running cheerfully in the background as I fed it flicked Polwarth locks with a diet soda and a Christmas-gifted box of chocolates on the desk within reach. That, friends and neighbors, is luxury. Ask me what I’m planning on doing tomorrow. Go ahead, ask me. Of course, if you’re half as clever as I think you are, you’ll know–and will join me in your own luxury equivalent. Go ahead: j o i n me. You know you want to . . .
For a number of years, the folks lived on a 15+ -acre section of land in southern Georgia. It was 10 minutes from the nearest town, 1.25+ hours to work in Tallahassee. There were neighbors per se, but when you’re standing in the middle of 15 acres, you don’t really need to think much about them. The land curved down to a large pond in a protected dip while the upper half of the acreage was clear and rolling, protected on two sides by planted pines and on the third by a mixed woods. The breeze swept across the open fields, whispered in the pines, and swirled in eddies down near the pond. It smelled of open country, evergreen, and honeysuckle in the summer. The road was far enough away that you rarely heard traffic. Owls hooted in the evenings, doves cooed in the day, and shadows of red-tailed hawks swept across the waving grasses.
During times like these–times when the stress levels were too high, energy levels too low, and I had forgotten how to play nicely with others but rather wanted to thwap nigh well everyone in a “here’s your sign” reality check–mom would tell me to go out and and let the wind blow through my brains.
It was an odd expression, perhaps, but it was perfect. I could visualize a dark and dusty old farmhouse with wooden floors, closed and cluttered for so long that the cobwebs became the drapes, and the dustbunnies under the sheeted furniture were the size of elephants with lives of their own. Throw the doors and windows open and let the sunshine in. Watch the wind blow the dust out the back door, swirl through the rooms and shred the cobwebs, then scatter webs and bunnies across the open fields out back.
And when all is said and done, the house is light, fresh, clear, and open again, the earlier burden of time and chaos gone.
That’s what I’ve done this week. Opened the doors and let the wind blow through my brains.
The Norwegians have an equally image-driven expression: å senke skuldrene, or to lower your shoulders. You know how you are when you’re tense? When you find that you’re so keyed up that your muscles are in knots and you’re holding your shoulders up around your ears? Then, you force yourself to relax–to take a deep breath and drop your shoulders.
I’ve done a bit of that, too.
If you haven’t lately, you really should give it a try.
So, what have I done over the past few months? Other than work and a ton of obligations of one sort or another? Well, there’s been a little inspiration in the trenches, although mostly in the last few weeks.
Knitting
Believe it or not, there’s actually been stuff made with the yarn. Normally the standing question when someone sees you spinning is “what will it be”? The standard response, of course, is “yarn.” The next question, then, is usually “what are you planning on doing with it?” And of course the response to that question is, “Do? I have to do something with it? I’m going to hug it and pet it and love it and call it George . . .”
Most of the time we don’t really know what that fiber is going to be when it grows up. Yes, sometimes we start a fiber with a specific project in mind and spin to that project, but often we spin just to spin. Sometimes it really is enough to just make the yarn, but it usually becomes something. Eventually.
Part of the Fluffball yarn (see #53 on the 2011 Spinning page) became this tube cowl. It’s soft, not at all stiff, and long enough to wrap three or four times around your neck, and I love it.
Another part of the yarn became this cabled hat and scarf. The cable is reversible so the fabric looks the same on both sides, and is rather warm and cushy, and wonderfully squishy. This was DH’s Christmas present.
Small, quick projects have been the mode lately, and DH’s head and neck wardrobe is expanding exponentially.
I actually started this for a Christmas gift for DH’s brother, but the work load kept me from getting it done in time. Since he didn’t need it, DH has claimed it. The yarn is a Corriedale handspun; “Azure Dreams” roving from Crown Mountain Farm. (See #39 on the 2010 Spinning page.) It’s a simple 6×3 rib which made a nice, cushy fabric. it was brainless knitting, but it’ll do.
None of the projects were difficult, and there’s something comforting about knitting things that don’t require you to actually think about what you’re doing. It’s also a matter of self-preservation. When those last two functioning grey cells start marching around with protest signs, it’s time to find something you can do reflexively. Something that doesn’t need intelligence. None. Simple ribs or plain cables, yarnovers or K2tog? No intelligence necessary.
And sometimes spinning is like that, too.
Spinning
Some fibers don’t require thought. They spin themselves; you just sit there and hold them.
Fiber: “Through the looking glass” from Enchanted Knoll Farm. Josette calls the fiber “Shimmy Toes,” and I adore it. It’s a 50/50 blend of superwash Merino and Tencel. It’s strong, silky, shiny, and oh so very soft. There are actually two skeins in the photo here. The bump to the left (#1) is a 2-ply of top only, while the bump to the right (#2) is a 2-ply with one ply of top, and one ply of batts. The base for the batts was the Shimmy Toes top plus some bling, which means that the yarn has a lovely glitter and shimmer. Yardage: #1 = 339 yards. 3.6 ounces. #2 = 637 yards. 8.3 ounces. Total yardage: 976. WPI/TPI: Both skeins 2-ply, 16-18wpi, 8tpi.
And yes, you may ask me what I’m going to do with it and I’ll have an answer for a change. This particular fiber is absolutely one of my favorite commercial blends. The Tencel adds softness, silkiness, and shine as well as strength, and yarns made with this blend have wonderful drape. In this case, it simply has to be a shawl. Of course. Everything (almost) becomes a shawl, don’t you know? In this case, the .
On the other hand, I have absolutely no idea what the next yarn will become.
Fiber: Corriedale from Spunky Eclectic in the “Mordor” Colorway. Club fiber from February 2011. Yardage: 437 yards in a true 3-ply. WPI/TPI: 14wpi, ca. 8tpi.
The yarn was on the wheel for the better part of six months, so it’s not exactly consistent. In fact, it’s pretty inconsistent. But it’s softly spun, semi-woolen, and oh so very cushy. For now, however, it’s vegetating in the stash box until it tells me what it wants to be.
And then there was some silk.
Fiber: 100% Tussah silk. I dyed the sliver with the idea that it would be a golden and more bronze color, but ended up with something that made me think more of strawberry shortcake. Rose, gold, and white. The fiber spun up to be a peachy-pink; the bronze “cake” part of the color turned the “strawberry” and whipped cream part of the color more golden. Yardage: 1296 yards in the main skein, 84 in a remnant for a total of 1380 yards, 1261 meters. WPI/TPI: 2-ply, 30wpi, ca. 10 tpi
I love this yarn. It’s a true laceweight and the silk has marvelous drape and is going to make a wonderful shawl if I can find the right pattern. It’s not a true pink, but a warm color which still makes me think of strawberry shortcake. Of course, that may just because I happen to want strawberry shortcake. Seriously, doesn’t that sound good at the moment? Or cheesecake with strawberry topping.
And, I’ve been experimenting. Just a little. Have you heard about ? I’m a little fascinated. Literally, it’s a competition to see how long a 2-ply yarn someone can spin for a total of 10 grams. Ten grams is nothing. It’s .357 of an ounce. Out of curiosity, I decided to see what that meant; I ran a test using 1 gram. This is what I got.
Don’t look at the spinning. It’s horrific. I just wanted to see what I could do without pushing things too far. I used a bit of Bond to test the waters, and could definitely have spun it about half as thick as I did, but I’ve learned a few other things via the experiment as well.
First, twist helps determine length. We all know that, but we don’t really think about it until we start playing around with this kind of thing. There’s a fine line between having enough twist for the single to hold together and maximizing length, and having too much twist and losing yardage.
Second, the thread needs to be strong enough to be measured and plied, and I hadn’t really thought about that. So, while you want a fine fiber, you’re also going to need a strong fiber, and that’s not necessarily a given. These singles broke at least twice during the plying process, so clearly I have work to do.
This little skein weighs about a gram, and there are some 26.3 yards. To give you an idea of what needs to happen, I’m about 75 yards short. Truthfully, I don’t know whether to groan or to laugh. The whole thing is absolutely absurd, and I’m so entertained by the entire idea that I can’t help myself. So, I’m going to give it a try, although most of the work will probably come over the summer. The deadline is October, so there’s time to practice. I don’t expect to even come close to achieving a record, but it’ll make a fascinating personal challenge.
With that in mind, I’ve been evaluating which fleeces in my stash might be appropriate, and there are four. Four which came in over the early fall and which you haven’t seen. Four fleeces which I’ll need to find something luxurious and special to do with them.
You already know that I’m into soft. I love soft wools. Partly because I react to everything else, but partly simply because I’ve always loved soft fibers. I’m one of those people who are embarrassingly tactile and are automatically drawn to fibers which feel good. You know, the people who walk through the store and simply have to stroke every piece of clothing or fabric which looks soft to find out whether it really is as soft as it seems. It takes us an hour longer to shop for a blouse than it takes anyone else, and you’d better send in a rescue team if we happen to get sidetracked in the plush toy and fake fur section.
And along came Custard.
“Custard” is a ewe lamb fleece from Kate Lowder of . Custard is mostly Rambouillet (ca. 1/16th Corrie), and incredibly soft. It’s not a big fleece, but I want to try it with the Longest Thread work; my gut feeling is that it’s around 14 microns, but I’m wondering if it will be stronger than an equivalent micron Merino, and might thus work better for The Longest Thread. I can surely spare a couple of grams to find out–and then use the rest for some deliciously soft, next-to-skin something or other. I’ve already done a hasty (and very ugly) test spin, and I swear it feels like a baby’s plush toy.
Then there are three superfine Merinos from (Genopalette).
Fleece 10-08, 16 micron (very bright white)
Fleece 15-09, 16 micron
(The tips are not dirty as they appear here; the camera just didn’t like the contrast.)
Fleece 9-08, 14 micron
Those should keep me busy for a while. What do you think?
My husband is very very good with directions. He can go somewhere once and usually find his way back again without trouble. He generally knows which way is north, south, east, or west without checking a compass or the sun’s direction. He knows which way he wants to go, and always seems to know which way he’s come from.
The only time I ever saw him get turned around was when he was new to Tallahassee, a city with over 180,000 permanent residents, a fair number of state buildings which all look alike, and a tree canopy which makes it nigh well impossible in many locations to see any of the buildings which might otherwise work as landmarks. And one-way streets. Lots of curvy one-way streets which seem to lock you into a gerbil-on-a-wheel series of circles but never quite take you where you want to go.
Admittedly, Trondheim is not exactly logically organized and its street organization leaves a lot to be desired, but many of those streets are based on routes that go considerably further back in time than the 16th-century historical settlement which founded Tallahassee. And, let’s be honest: the Norwegian city takes up considerably less space than its Florida counterpart, so you have less space to actually get lost. Frankly, it’s not surprising he found a need to pull over and get oriented. Once.
Me, on the other hand? Forget it. I am directionally challenged. Put me in a place where I cannot see a landmark and ask me to point in the general direction of home and I am liable to send you out to sea every time. The university in which I work consists of a series of interconnected buildings under one roof. I refuse to admit to how many years it took me to find a path to the library–one which did not require that I go down to the ground floor, cross the complex, and then go up the three flights of stairs to the library as opposed to simply crossing a couple of connecting bridges and going down one flight of stairs. The first time I tried it, I not only ended up on the wrong floor, but on the entirely opposite side of the complex.
For a while, DH gave me a map when we traveled so that I could follow where we were going. That didn’t help much: I get carsick when I read in a moving vehicle. And since I couldn’t read to follow where we were going, I had no clue where we were when we stopped to let me look at the map.
He gave up. Now he just points, or picks something toward which he knows I’ll have some theoretical sense of direction (e.g., way south; or in the Arctic Circle; or west of Atlanta [the latter of which, incidentally, could well cover an entire country]). Optimistically, he still tries on occasion to give me directions based on an event I remember. For instance,
“You know where we went to the Christmas party with the bakery that year?”
“Yeah?”
“There.”
Um, right. I know where we were in the sense that I can visualize the inside or vaguely remember some details about the place. Do I know where we were and could I find the place again? Not a snowball’s chance.
Even mom commented on how clever he was about finding his way around.
Then she went home.
And, of course, then we got lost.
After she left, we took a few days to wander around in the section of Sweden east of Fredikstad. We had no schedule, but stopped at the tourist information offices along the way to pick up whatever information was available and just went where there seemed to be something interesting.
I have since decided a couple of things. First, tourist information offices seem to exist everywhere. On the map, anyway. The one I can’t read while the car is moving. Second, they are impossible to find.
It never failed that there would be a sign marking the presence of an information center on the road leading into a town. It rarely failed that we could not find said center. In one town, we found the infamous “i” sign with clear arrows pointing the way—until they disappeared in the center of town and nowhere near anything remotely resembling the missing “i“. We circled the block three times and found the directional arrows helpfully pointing the way on all three possible approaches, but it seems no one had ever bothered to actually put the information office where the arrows were pointing. That, or a group of kids moved all the signs and the office was actually on the opposite side of town. The Swedish equivalent of the American teen’s itch to turn the middle-of-nowhere cross-post sign.
It turned into a joke, a sort of “Where’s Waldo” of travel. Optimistically, we decided at one point to follow the sign to the “reisesenteret,” reckoning that there would be an information office at the travel center. It started out well enough. We followed a well-paved, wide road in the direction of the sign. Then the paved road turned into a gravel road. That should have been a clue. Really, it should.
Then the two-lane gravel road turned into a single-lane gravel road.
Wasn’t it Bill Engvall who did the country comedy “Here’s your sign” routine with Jeff Foxworthy and the rest of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour about ten years ago?
But, on we drove because it had to change and surely we would come back on the paved road soon, right?
The single-lane gravel road began winding its way through a forest. A tall-pine, planted forest. A tall-pine, planted forest in flat country so that you could see nothing other than the trees.
And still we drove on, because it was such a nice gravel road and surely it would change and return us to the paved road soon, right?
There comes a time in most of our lives when we find ourselves doing something we know isn’t quite right and we realize that we should simply turn around and go back. But we stick with it because, after all, we’ve come this far—and surely it has to change soon. It’s a peculiar blend of stubbornness and stupidity, and we’ve all done it.
So, on we drove, afraid to turn right or left for fear of going in a never-ending circle, with nary a sign, building, or other sign of life to be seen. Except the deer stands. Regularly spaced, right on that single-lane gravel road, in the middle of that tall-pine forest in flat country where you could see nothing but the trees around you. Deer stands that sat right on the edge of the road. One every quarter mile or less.
It occurred to me that if the deer stands were on the road, it was because there was nothing else to see. Hunters didn’t need to worry about traffic or population; the only thing out there—other than a couple of lost tourists—was the wildlife.
And the lost tourists.
We had one cell phone between us, and it was charged. But I had no idea who we would have called or how to tell them where we were. The cell phone is too old to have a GPS in it, so a rescue party would certainly not be able to do anything technologically savvy, such as triangulating a location. And since we weren’t sure how we had gotten to where we were, we couldn’t have even indicated a general location for the rescue party to start searching. I could visualize the conversation, and the laughter from the Swedes who’d had to rescue a couple of tourists from Norway—a couple of tourists from Norway who’d gotten lost within 5 minutes’ drive of the nearest town.
But still we drove on, watching the clock mark the advancing afternoon hour, stopping at the crossroads to see if we could see anything, anything at all. Anything other than tall-pines in a planted forest and a single-lane gravel road.
We visualized what it would be like having to spend the night in the car, our nervousness and anxiety growing with each deer stand and each unmarked crossroad, and me realizing we only had a quarter of a tank of gas.
Then we saw a couple of cars moving at a normal speed on the other side of a thin curtain of pines.
“A road!”
“What?“
“A road!”
“Where??”
“There! See? On the other side of those trees. A road!”
The Whos in Whoville could not have been happier when the Grinch returned Christmas than we were when we saw that road. The relief in that car was palpable and we laughed until we were giddy; we were back on the road. Any road. We didn’t care what road. It was a road. It could have gone to, well, China for all we cared; it was a road with people.
Unbelievably, we’d only been lost for about 45 minutes.
I thought about that estate forest recently, and the relief when we were back on the right path. And I have to laugh. Getting lost now and then and having to figure out your own path is not necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly is an adventure. And yet, if you never leave the road, you never find out what else is possible.
Remember this fleece?
Which became these nests?
Which became this yarn?
I thought I would turn it into a , but the more I tested the knitting, the more I decided I didn’t like the pattern. The big cable falls directly across the bustline—which would be fine if you were a size 2 and wanted a little emphasis there. For normal people, it is rather like placing a spotlight—ok, a pair of them—across something which certainly didn’t need any more attention. But I wanted to try the structure, so I improvised.
I left the road.
The stitch pattern and that yarn didn’t go very well together; it was stiffer than I wanted, and I was looking for something with a certain amount of drape and a lot of cushiness. Something that could be warm, soft, and comfy, but still rather dignified. It occurred to me later that the cable could have been moved up to the edge of the stole, and that would have solved that particular problem. Of course, that occurred to me after I’d already gotten fairly far into the process. You know, long after the point where you found yourself on a gravel road.
So, I improvised. I took the idea behind the pattern and simply created my own. In this case, I decided on a simple 10×2 rib with a 4×4 cable on one long edge. Had I known then what I know now, I’d have increased the cable pattern to occupy more space along the edge, such as with a 4×4 / 2×2 / 4×4 set of cables, or a 2×2 / 4×4 / 2×2 set.
I did the crochet edging and button placement as the pattern instructed—I followed the directions—but here I see two problems and I should have given myself permission to leave the road again.
First, the pattern calls for a round of single crochet (SC) as a foundation round, then the round of single crochet with ch5 loops created at intervals where the buttons will be placed, then a last round of single crochet to firm up those loops.
I know the purpose for the three crochet rows is to add stability, but I would recommend skipping the first round and going straight to the second. SC around, make the button loops as you go, and use the second SC round to solidify the loops and edge. The second round of single crochet is enough to provide the foundation and stability for the buttons, but it still allows the fabric to have the drape and flexibility you want. You can space the crochet out a bit further, but the effect can be rather uneven and you lose the value of crocheting the edge in the first place. Reducing the number of SC rounds would help protect the drape of the fabric and keep it from having a noticeably hard edge.
The second issue has to do with button placement. Unless I’m overlooking something, the pattern calls for the buttons to be located starting 3” in from the edge on the long sides, and centered in the short side. I would strongly suggest changing that. The short side placement can remain the same (I think), but the long side placement needs to be started at the edge and not indented. That would keep the shrug from having a sloppy edge at the edge of the sleeve.
Additionally, before the loops and buttons are added, I’d suggest folding the stole around you as if you were going to button it into a sleeved shrug, and note the amount of distance you have between the edge of the sleeve (the short edge), and your body. If you are thin, then the current button spacing (but starting from the edge) may be fine. If you are a bit larger, you may need to rethink either the number of buttons or the intervals between them. The problem is that if the buttons come too close to your body, you end up with an uncomfortable and unflattering fold. Ideally, you want the sleeves to button while the back of the shrug hangs neatly without bunching.
As one last note, the pattern instructs you to mark the position of the buttons as you do the crochet round. I found that to be counter-intuitive. Since the loops may shift a bit depending on how the stitches fall in the edging, it makes more sense to mark the placement of the loops–and create the loops there–then fold the stole and sew the buttons on exactly where you have the loops.
As for my own version … I’m satisfied, mostly. I’d like the edging and button placement to be different, but of course I did such a good job of sewing the suckers on and weaving in all the loose ends that there’s no way I’m going to attempt to undo things. But it’s definitely something I would note for a next round.
In short, the concept behind the pattern definitely works, but there are a number of changes I would make in construction, and a few I’d make to accommodate body type.
So what did I end up with? This:
Finished size: approximately 60” x 29”. I barely blocked it, just enough to get a straight edge. It could easily have been blocked for an additional 25% in length and width.
I’d swatched this yarn for gauge to help choose patterns, and had originally thought I had enough to make a vest. But after checking patterns, I decided I needed more than I had, so some of the yarn was used for the contrast edging on the two Comfy shawls which used the Matteus yarn. I’d started out with roughly 1100 yards, but reckoned the edging for the other two shawls took a bit. I’d guess there was a final amount of somewhere between 900 and 1000 yards.
Pattern: sort of
Cast on 132.
Knit 3 rows. Then, on right side:
Keep knitting in the pattern until you have the length you want.
Knit three rows.
Cast off.
Block.
Single crochet the edging, forming the button loops on the first round, and firming them upon the second.
Position the buttons directly across from the loops, sew the suckers on, and weave in any loose ends.
Voila, you’re done.
On the wrong side, always knit the first 3 and last 3 stitches. Beyond that, follow your pattern. You choose how many sections of stockinette and which cables you want. It’s a no-brainer.
The stole actually wound up a bit deeper (across the short side) than I expected, and rather than do 9 sections of 10-stitch stockinette, I could have done 7. Likewise, I opted for an 8-stitch cable (c8), and could have used a wider cable pattern since I placed it at the edge rather than toward the middle.
Otherwise, I should have made the change to the crochet edging and button placement. I’m chalking it up to a “listen to your own instincts” lesson. You know, the moment when you see that the road has turned into a gravel path and you probably should turn around.
The buttons are 25mm, so a bit larger than the pattern called for. They brightened things up, and added the points of interest which keeps the stole from turning into a lap rug. And they’re spaced a bit further apart at 4” rather than 3”, which may have been a mistake. Likewise, the pattern wants them 3” from the edge of the long sides, but they really need to be flushed against the edge first and then spaced accordingly, rather than indented the 3”. It’s dawned on me that I could simply pick up a couple of extra buttons and add them where I want them on the edge, and crochet a simple loop on the opposing corner . . .
The irony here? Clearly I had enough for a vest after all. On the other hand, I wanted a rectangular shawl, and I can always do a vest when I can be certain I have enough yarn—and can follow directions.
I’ve had the joy of having my mother around for the past month. She hasn’t been able to make the trip before–you don’t exactly go places when you’re the primary caregiver for someone else—but she finally had the opportunity. And while her health is far from brilliant, it was strong enough to allow her to make the trip and there is absolutely nothing wrong with her mind. So, escorted through the various airports and experiencing the usual chaos of international travel for the first time in forty years, over she came. It was her first trip, and quite possibly her only trip, and it was important. You see, friends and neighbors, it is absolutely critical that you do what you can when you can, because you may not have that chance again. Life is simply too short for regrets.
We’ve nattered, laughed, kvetched, and enjoyed each other’s company.
We watched the news from the bombing and shooting tragedies in Oslo and Utøya, and grieved over the growing roll call of dead and injured, recognizing how much an impact one person’s insanity and hate can have on a society which never expected such an event on its own soil—and how much it shared with the Oklahoma bombing and the shock the US experienced during its own tragedies and terrorist attacks.
And, we’ve been tourists. She’s had the chance to laugh about roads (while being thankful that she wasn’t driving),
to oooh and ahhh over some of the scenery,
to stand in the shadow of Nidarosdommen,
and in the shade of the birches behind it while DH explained the history and pointed out points of interest.
She saw the magnificent and the funny, and fell in love with this not-so-little fellow at Geiranger fjord,
while she followed DH around with her own camera, entertainingly enough capturing him or part of him—a sleeve, a hand, a nose—in a large number of her photos. She’s decided she wants to play a version of “Where’s Waldo” with her 5-year-old grandson.
And, of course, she was captured in return.
In the end, it was time to leave, and after spending a day sorting through well over 1000 photos so she could have a selected number printed for a photo album, she is now on her way home. I will miss her, but I know she’s taking a host of memories with her, and a better understanding of how her only daughter lives.
On a Fibery Front . . .
There was knitting, and I helped her complete a prayer shawl for her dear friend, one who just lost her own husband to cancer a couple of weeks ago.
It’s a duplicate of the Comfy Matteus shawl, using the other half of the Matteus Shetland lamb yarn with Thomas the Bond yarn as trim. We got it blocked on Saturday, and dry enough to pack on Sunday. A bit last minute, but given that you’re talking to the slowest knitter on the planet and the slowest knitter’s mother—whose knitting projects have not yet gone beyond washcloths—it’s rather a miracle that it took less than a month to finish. I do hope the recipient loves it, but more than that, I hope she is comforted by the affection and concern that went into it.
It’s been a month for finishing up leftovers. The rest of the Gold Dust Woman silk was turned into a simple lace cowl:
Rather than put a button on it or graft the ends, I decided I’d rather use a light shawl pin or brooch to close it. Ignore the loose end; I didn’t weave it in before I took the photo.
On a spinning front, Tour de Fleece ran during Tour de France, so there was a bit of fiber in the small gaps between work and family.
First, there was Red Bling. The photo doesn’t capture either the color or the bling, but think of Santa’s suit with glittery embellishments and you’ll start to get the idea.
Fiber: Enchanted Knoll Farm, Superwash Merino, Tussah silk, sari silk, and glitter. Weight: approx. 6 ounces. WPI/TPI: The yarn is slubby, so WPI varies between 10-16, while TPI averages about 10.
It’s a fun, soft, squishy yarn, and is ultimately destined for a funky shawl. It’ll need to be a fairly simple pattern since the sari and the bling really create their own degree of interest, and an involved (or even delicate) pattern would ultimately be overwhelmed. I’m looking forward to seeing what it grows into.
The grey Polwarth is slowly making its way into batts.
And Clio the Bond is slowly being combed,
formed into nests,
spun,
and cast into a 3-ply.
At the moment, I have nearly 300 grams of true 3-ply yarn, roughly 14wpi and 10tpi, for 850 yards. Not quite half a sweater. It’s a start, and I have nearly four pounds left to spin. Since the Bond fleece was larger than the Polwarth fleece and I want both at the same grist, I decided to spin it first; I have more room for mistakes with it than with the Bond. It’s a bit uneven; I’ve been spinning opposite ends of the grist spectrum lately, and it took me a while to find a happy medium. But it’s such a beautiful color, and I love the breed.
Hm. So, perhaps all good things don’t come to an end.
