Trenchwork

Sometimes we go through dry spells. Sometimes we go through the motions of the day, handling our usual routines, hoping that we’re managing to stay on top of it all but not necessarily feeling inspired or motivated to deal with any of the usual chores and challenges.  Those are the times when a deserted but fully-equipped island would be ideal, and right now I admit that I feel I could use a month on one.  Fiber, books, a computer but no internet, no phone but a way for friends and family to reach me in the event of an emergency, and all the little conveniences you take advantage of on a lazy day off and which tend to feel like luxuries because you so seldom have the opportunity to enjoy them.

That’s where I’m at; that’s what I want.

What I have is a bit different.  I received confirmation that a job I applied for but which I most certainly did not expect to get because of the way the advertisement was phrased will most certainly go to someone else.  While I earnestly believe I’d have enjoyed it, would truly have been perfect for it, and would have done it extraordinarily well, I really can’t be disappointed.  I never believed I had much of a chance, and I’ve thought of the process more as a learning experience than anything else—and it has been educational.  But, a couple of very good things have come out of it as well.  One of those is DH’s understanding that in order to write, I need to go to where my material is in order to have something to write from.  So, I’ll be stateside for the first three weeks of the new year for a research trip.  Have I decided precisely where I’ll be and what I’ll do?  Heck no!  The only thing I’m certain about is that I need to go talk to a man in Kentucky . . .  I can make a flying visit to family, then go back for family in the summer.

The other good thing which has come out of the situation is a bit of a double-sided coin.  Because of the job issue, the work available to me as an adjunct is liable to be nearly non-existent next term (that’s the negative) but I’ll actually have time to write (which is the positive).  Writing.  Writing. My own work.  Academic and creative.  Writing.

I cannot say how much I’m looking forward to it; it’s been a long time since I’ve felt I could, for a variety of reasons.  One of those is practical:  when you’re carrying 50-100% as an adjunct, you find you actually carry closer to 150+% percent—which means you’re lucky if you have two functioning grey cells to rub together at the end if the day, even if you had time to actually do anything about it.

On another front, Trenchwork is now a registered business in Norway.  While that will mostly consist of translation, writing, editing, and mentoring English, it gives me room to sell some of the extra handspun I seem to be stashing, and fibers I want to create.

The winds of change, they are a-blowin’.

In the meantime, the next month is going to be a load.  Next week has online group presentations for one distance class of 50 while another of 20 starts.  On Friday, 220 essays come in, of which I need to mark half over the weekend.  Fortunately, a colleague is doing the other half.  The following two weeks will be full of student conferences and teaching, with one student roughly every 20 minutes during the non-teaching periods.  There are 3 more 2-hour lectures over the coming month, and 8 groups which meet four (?) more times over the coming month.  And of course there are 3 distance courses I’m providing tech support for, and 2 I’m developing which will run in the spring.

I’m not saying all that to complain.  It’s enough to keep me running flat out, but it’s not horrific, and it’s not anything I haven’t done before.  I can do this.

But I’d like to do more.

I think that when we begin to take stock of our lives, we also need to consider whether what we’re doing is enough.  It’s certainly enough as far as time is concerned, and we have precious little of that which we can call our own.  But is it enough?  We do what we need to do to keep body and soul together, but I wonder if we have a tendency to neglect the soul just making certain that the body can survive.

There is—there has to be—a balance.  Since the soul inspires everything else, somewhere along the line we must find a way to include activity which nourishes it. It doesn’t matter what that activity is.  The big ones, though, they take time, planning, and sometimes intervention of the fates.

The little ones?  Those are the oases.  They’re the things which refresh you during the dry spells and keep you going until you can find a path to the springs.

Thomas had to be rewashed.  Bond is fascinating stuff, and I love this fleece.  But it really caught me off guard; the sucker was harder to wash than the pure Merino I’d dealt with over the summer.  It held the grease deep within the very compact locks in a way the Merino didn’t: the Merino opened in the wash while the Bond locks stayed firm, stubbornly holding onto their secret stash of lanolin.  The second wash had less soap but kept the very hot water, and I still see locks which are not entirely grease free.  Since I’m combing the fleece, that’s ok—I just make certain I warm the fleece and combs. But the fleece itself is beautiful. The color is a rich brown with a hint of lavender undertone, firm and rather fat slightly oval locks, and clear but slightly relaxed crimp which comes from the Lincoln heritage. Bond is softer than Corriedale (average 25 microns versus 27), with longer lock staple and handles beautifully. It spins up to a slightly lustrous and very cushy woolen yarn, and this particular half fleece is destined to be a sweater. Of course, given the speed at which I do not knit, it may be next winter before I can wear it . . .

Matteus is making his own slow progress. There is now a large box of flick-brushed locks:

and six heavy batts:

(Two aren’t shown here.)

There is roughly half as much again to card:

But this big box of fluffy, ready-to-card Matteus is courtesy of this big box . . .

Meet Ron Anderson’s cradle style wool picker. Ron is the mind—and hands—behind Fancy Kitty, and is a pleasure to work with. This is a piece of equipment I’d been debating for a year, but given the coming year’s prospects, now seemed a good time to invest. Having used it to pick the rest of Matteus, I can honestly say that it was worth the import and sales tax fees.

So, what IS a wool picker? Other than a medieval looking device which is full of frighteningly long spikes? It’s an ingenious gizmo which can do serious damage. Its sole purpose in life is to tease open the locks of a fleece so that they can then be carded, something which you otherwise have to do by hand, a few locks at a time. The process also allows most of the remaining VM to fall out (depending on the type and assuming it’s not burrs). It can be adjusted (up or down) to handle different types of wools, and it did a beautiful job opening up the locks for Matteus. It IS possible to be too aggressive with a fine fleece, and I found very quickly that I needed to shift the swing portion up a bit and move it more slowly in order to avoid causing breaks in the fiber. But—and here’s the clincher—it took all of 30 minutes to pick through the fleece, and that was a job which would have taken me a couple of days otherwise.

I’ve carded two batts with the new picked fibers, and other than keeping the layer thin, I’ve decided to not pay too much attention to how the fibers are fed into the carder. The resulting batts are incredibly lofty, and I can feel a real difference between the previous four and the most recent two.

The picker is not a miracle worker, and as long as one keeps realistic expectations of what it can and cannot do, then I can’t imagine being disappointed. It will help remove a lot of VM and remaining dirt kernels by allowing the stuff to simply fall out. It will not remove all of it, nor can it remove VM which is firmly embedded in the hairs of the fiber, such as with burrs and certain grass seeds. It will open the locks for you in record time, but it will not organize those locks, and may well have trouble with certain types of fibers as opposed to others.

Not everything has been fiber prep, though. I’m in the usual semester work schedule, which means I’m back to comfort spinning. Here’s the latest:

This is from Enchanted Knoll Farm’s Happy Hooves club batts, “Barred Owl.” It’s a superwash sock fiber, spun a bit thick-thin and slightly slubby for a worsted weight (10-18wpi), very smooshy true 3-ply yarn. There are 293 warm, rich yards with lots of golden glitter which, unfortunately, doesn’t show here!

Anyone who thinks brown can’t be sexy hasn’t met the Farm Witch‘s browns. The fiber had such depth and warmth that it’s the fibery equivalent warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven on a chilly Saturday morning. It comforts. It’s the lover who holds you close during the night, and still holds your hand in the morning.

Finally, remember this?

It’s on a secret mission and has become a surprising oasis. Ask me about it in about a month or so.