On a work front, I’m trying to meet deadlines and get things settled for 10 course sites which will go online in a couple of weeks.  I’ve done what I need to do for 4 of them, and have my own and 5 support sites left to settle.  And I have until Monday.

On Tuesday, DH and I have a vacation, and we’ll be stateside to see family and friends and play tourist for  little while.  In other words, I need to get those sites settled before we leave.

And in other other words, don’t fret if the blog goes quiet for the next four weeks.  I have work that needs to be done on the last couple of days of the month, but I’m otherwise planning on shutting down the machine and staying mostly offline for the break.

On a fibery front, the last few weeks have been mostly focused on work, but there’s been a little fibery progress.

First, the Gotland/Karakul/Rambouillet cross is finished, and is about to become travel knitting.  I’m rather pleased with it.  There are roughly 900 yards of a fingering weight 2-ply, and I decided I wanted it in a nuanced olive green.

The yarn has a lovely silky handle, and a subtle shine, and it’s going to make a terrific lace shawl.  Which one, you ask?  Oh, please!  As if I know!  But I’d better figure it out in the next 48 hours so I can at least be sure to pack the right needles!

And we’re making progress on Matteus.  Remember the Shetland lamb?

It is starting to look like this:

The color is warmer than the photo shows, so rather than grey it’s a lovely oatmeal.  I’m spinning it at a very soft, low-twist, DK o light worsted weight with the intent to do a Sleeves in your Pi, but I may have to reduce the grist in order to get the yardage I want.  Or I can just spin it and make something warm and cozy and do a Sleeves in your Pi with the next one.

There’s a standing joke in the spinning community which seems to be true for me these days.  Someone asks a spinner what she’s doing.  ”
Spinning,” she replies.
“What are you going to make?” asks the uninitiated observer.
“Yarn,” she says, and grins.
“No, I mean, what are you going to make?  You know, with the yarn?”
“Make something?  I have to make something?  I’m making yarn.  What more do I want?” she asks, with  wide-eyed innocence.

And never ask a spinner what that particular fiber is for when she buys it.  Or, if you do ask, be prepared for the frequent response, “I have absolutely no idea.”  And when we tell you that?  Don’t get annoyed with us, because the reality is that we genuinely have no idea.  Sometimes we go into a fiber knowing precisely what it’s going to be when it grows up.  For instance, given the lock structure and the shine and the smaller amount, this fiber simply had to be lace.  Very very often, however, we’re spinning for the joy of spinning, for the learning, for the therapy, for the art, for the relaxation, for the craft, for the process, for the creativity, for the spiritual renewal, and for the end result.  Do we actually have to do anything after that?

When we do—if we do—well, that’s just gravy.

Say hello to the latest arrival:

Polwarth.  From Wendy Dennis of Tarndwarncoort. I’ve been wanting to compare American bred lines of some of the breeds I like with Australian lines of those fleeces, and this is the start to that.  Interestingly, even though the crimp count is the same as the Am-bred Polwarth I’ve tried, this fleece feels softer and has a definitely more silky feel.

The fleece measures in at about 23-24 microns with a lovely handle, and Wendy was a pleasure to deal with—and I’ll cheerfully go back to her next year.

I haven’t fully unpacked the fleece yet—I don’t dare until I’m ready to work with it or I’ll never finish what I need to do before Tuesday—but what I see is very clean.  The locks are about 5.5″, with 9 crimps to the inch, and I can’t touch it for the next four weeks.  The good news, of course, is that fiber doesn’t expire.  It’ll be here waiting when I get back.

Hello, my name is Rhonna and I’m a fiberholic.  Are there cookies at these meetings?

I am absolutely and totally amazed at what we can accomplish when we have a support group, and how much it can turn out to be when we aren’t checking our progress every five minutes.  It’s rather fun to look back after a longer period of time and see a small pile of completed (or mostly completed) results rather than a single yarn.

From left to right, there’s

• Enchanted Knoll Farm “Mad Hatter” Shetland batts spun into a slubby worsted-weight 2-ply;
• Spunky Eclectic superwash BFL “Ooh-La-La-Tropical” also as a 2-ply;
• fleece to yarn, the Bond you’ve been seeing in recent posts:  a 3-ply worsted-weight for about 1100 yards;
• fleece to yarn, the Gotland/Karakul/Rambouillet also from recent posts:  a 2-ply light fingering for about 573 yards; and
• on top, the remaining batts (about 3.5 ounces) of the G/K/R cross.

The white G/K/R skein on the right has not yet had its finishing bath, and I’ll wait to do that until I spin those remaining batts.  It won’t take long, so that yarn will be done today.  Then instead of just the usual bath, I’ll put it in a dye bath and finish it that way.  It should come out to about 18wpi, give or take a couple, and I’m guessing I’ll end up with around 775 yards when all is said and done.

My goals for this Tour were to finish the Bond and one of the smaller batches of fleece in my stash, and the two indie fibers on the left.  I nearly made that; the only thing I didn’t quite finish was the G/K/R cross, although I met the Raw Power challenge goal of spinning a pound of raw fleece.  I actually managed a bit more than that in fleece-to-yarn spinning; there are 21+ ounces in the Bond, and 9.5 in the G/K/R cross.

However, even without those last three batts, that’s a total of 2168 yards of yarn in the past 21 days—and half of that is in a 3-ply yarn.  Given the sheer amount of time that it takes to prep fiber and a few very low-productivity days, that’s not bad at all.  The reality is that it takes about as much time to prep the fiber as it does to spin it, regardless of whether you’re combing or carding, and not forgetting flicking and diz time.  I have a tendency to overlook this part of the process, I’m afraid.  I tend to overestimate what I can accomplish because I underestimate how long it will actually take to comb that fleece, or flick the locks to prepare for carding, or to run the carder . . . Spinning from fleece is NOT a fast process.  It takes time.  But I love the process, the transformation of one form to another, and I love being able to pick up a yarn I’ve taken from fleece to yarn and say, “I did that.”  How very very cool it all is.

The Tour?  The Tour is finished, and I’m looking forward to it next year.  But, for now, it’s done.  However, as with the riders the Tour de Fleece follows, wheels will keep on spinning.

The breed was developed in the early 1900s by crossing Peppin Merino ewes with Lincoln rams, then breeding back to Merino to regain the softness but not so much as to lose the Lincoln influence.  The end result is a fairly large sheep with a lovely lovely fleece.  The Merino gave its softness and low micron count, and the Lincoln influence gave a longer staple length, slightly more relaxed crimp and staple, and a tiny bit of luster.  So, the average staple length is closer to 5″, with roughly 7 crimps per inch, and the staple seems to normally be a bit blocky and dense rather than triangular or oval in shape.  The micron count for the breed falls between 22-28.  To put it in another way, it’s about the same softness as a medium Merino, but with a longer and more relaxed staple.

Let me show you a quick comparison:

Interesting, huh?

In this case, the Bond is from a ram named Thomas of Lowder Colour Farms.  The unwashed fleece looked like this:

The photo doesn’t do the color justice; the color in the samples photo above this one is on target, but that lock doesn’t have the golden tips which were in the fleece.

Because of the Merino influence, this is a fairly high-grease fleece and you can expect to lose between 30-45% of the weight in the wash, assuming you scour out all the grease.  In this case, I wanted to leave some of the lanolin in the fleece in order to play with longdraw spinning with the lanolin, but I found I left more than I wanted and had to give the fleece a second wash before I was willing to work with it.

/begin rant

And that, friends and neighbors, raises a point.  At repeated intervals, there is a discussion about spinning in the grease on the various fiber lists and forums, and I want to go on record as saying that there is a difference between spinning in the dirt and spinning in the grease.  Somehow, folks have gotten the idea that “spinning in the grease” means working with fleece just as it is, straight from the sheep.  There are those who like that experience, and that’s ok.  But I’m not one of them.  As Kate has said, sheep in general are not clean beasties.  And certainly they’re not self-grooming.  As a result, their fleece is full not only of suint (lanolin, sweat, body oils), but whatever they’ve come into contact with along the way—which includes everything from mud to poo, urine to dirt and sand, straw and chaff, seed and feed.  The fleece may look fairly clean if it doesn’t have a lot of VM (vegetable matter) in it and it’s not covered in dung tags, but the simple reality is that it is not.  And with all due respect to those who don’t mind dealing with that stuff, I don’t want to spin it into my yarn.  Contrary to what some folks say, it does not spin out or all come out in the wash when the yarn is washed and finished—particularly if you’ve spun a firm yarn, such as a worsted yarn and a yarn with multiple plies.

For me, I have to admit that it seems a matter of common sense.  I see what falls out of a fleece which has been washed and the lanolin removed; it’s amazing how much sand, dirt, and tiny pieces of VM there is even after you’ve thoroughly and a bit obsessively picked the fleece.  Most of it comes out in the processing, and the rest in the spinning as you work with the fiber.  But if the lanolin is retained, it behaves like glue and holds onto all the nastiness as well, which means that it is all trapped within the singles you’ve just spun.  Some will come out in the wash, but the process of sand and dirt working its way out over time is not exactly good for the yarn, and you know, I would rather not feel like Charlie Brown’s friend Pig-pen, leaving a trail of tiny granules and dirt on my clothes and elsewhere.

That’s what I call spinning in the dirt.  (And it helps that I’ve seen a few other folks use that phrase as well; at least I know I’m not alone there!)

But I do understand the love some folks have of spinning fleece which still has at least some degree of lanolin.  The lanolin works as an intensive treatment for your hands, the yarn plumps beautifully when it’s scoured in the finishing process, and the general wisdom is that it can make longdraw easier to spin thinner singles since it essentially forces the individual hairs to want to stick to one another, and thus draw out in a longer stream without falling apart quite so easily.

It is, however, possible to spin in the grease without spinning in the dirt:  wash the fleece.  That may sound contrary to the purpose, but it really isn’t; there are a dozen different ways to wash fleece, and there is no rule which says you have to wash in very hot water with lots of degreaser soap.  If you want to keep the lanolin, try soaking the fleece in room-temperature water for a couple of days and doing repeated rinses.  Even better (IMHO), use a wash method with lukewarm temperatures and a bit of soap to get rid of the other impurities.  If the water is not warm enough to melt the lanolin, it won’t be removed.  If you want to get rid of some of the lanolin but not all of it, raise the temperature enough to melt the lanolin, but reduce the amount of degreaser and don’t let the fleece soak in the warmer temperature for too long.  In other words, shorten the wash cycle.

You may have to experiment to find a wash method that works best for you, but there is absolutely no reason why spinning in the grease should be the same as spinning in the dirt.  There is, in other words, no good reason why you should not be able to spin a clean, lanolin-rich yarn.

/end rant

With all that in mind, I washed Thomas’s fleece so that I could retain some of the lanolin in order to work with longdraw spinning.  And you know, I’ve decided I prefer spinning fiber where most of the lanolin has been removed.

First, what I had was a partial fleece, and I knew I wanted to comb it.  The Valkyrie combs did a beautiful job of it:

Forgive the dark pic, but there are 600 grams (21.+ ounces) of combed bird’s nests. But in locks where I had left more than less lanolin, the remaining bits of VM or sand clung for life. It is absolutely critical that the wool and the combs are warm; you cannot comb lanolin-laden wool when it is cold. The lanolin behaves like cement and you’ll just end up ripping your fibers. So, tuck the fleece in a warm space and let it warm to the point where the lanolin become more fluid (around 95-100F) and then you can work with it. In my case, that was in a plastic bag inside a window where the sun happened to be shining through. Some of the few days when we actually had sun, that is. However, I still felt that I had more waste as a result of the cling effect than I wanted—and I wanted to hold onto every single gram of this fleece.

The Valkyrie combs created bird’s nests which weighed about 8-10 grams at the finish, and I “cheated” a couple of times and loaded the last rounds onto the hackle . . .

then dizzed from there to get a larger nest.

I had wanted to start with combed top, but I didn’t want a fully worsted yarn. Rather, I wanted the best of both worlds, so I span with a backward draw, letting the twist into the fiber supply to create a semi-woolen yarn. It is softer and loftier than a worsted yarn, but a bit more sturdy than a true woolen yarn, and the multiple plies make for a rounder and more durable yarn as well.

However, I found I actually have better control over my backward draw when there is no lanolin in the fiber. It is, I think, a matter of experience and practice, and I know I’ll get better at it, but the lanolin “hides” the amount of twist the single has and it is easy for the single to feel harder than it is—and to thus underestimate how much twist you actually have. There is a balancing point in the process which I haven’t yet mastered, and it may simply be that I need to keep even less of the lanolin than I did this time.

The end result, however, is that the singles are a bit more variable than I would have liked—or than I’d intended—so the grist of the yarn varies from 9-13 wraps per inch. I did scour the yarn fairly thoroughly when it was finished, and fulled it slightly, so the sections which had more lanolin than others and the sections which were more loosely spun as a result of that lanolin plumped like Ballpark franks. That accounts for some of the irregularity, but I’m afraid the rest is purely the fault of the spinner (i.e., me).

There are roughly 1100 yards here.  I’d wanted a vest, but I don’t think I have quite enough, so it will rest a bit while I search out patterns.  I am, however, very pleased with this yarn. Bond is a lovely fiber. It is soft, resilient, has a good degree of elasticity, and is a versatile fleece .  It’s not as slippery as Merino, but can be as soft.  And yes:   there’s more on the horizon.  There are a number of Bond breeders in the US (including Kate Lowder in OK and Joanna Gleason in CO), and I’m really curious to see how the US Bonds compare to the Australian Bonds (their home of origin), and that’s a question I’ll be able to resolve in a few months.  In the meantime, however, I am truly enjoying the journey.

By the way, Mr. Onery?

He’s proving to  not be very ornery at all. 

Day 11

I finished the second bobbin of Bond.

Day 12 . . .

saw another bobbin and a single batt. Forgive the bad picture; it’s what you get when you take a photo indoors at 11pm.

(ETA: The batt the left comes from the fleece at the bottom of the post; the bobbin on the right is Bond singles.)

That gave me 3 bobbins ready to ply.

Day 13, today

Woooot! We have yarn! I managed to ply 2 bobbins’ worth of 3-ply yarn. There are roughly 450+ yards of light worsted weight. The yarn is still wet in this shot, but it’ll give you an idea; I was able to comb the fleece in such a way that I kept the golden tips, and the shifts in colors are still present in the yarn.

I think I’m going to like it very much indeed.

There were leftover singles on two of the bobbins, and I think I’m about halfway through the fiber. I’ll refill the bobbins and ply the next batch, but I’m guessing there will be 1200-1500 yards. Not as much as I’d hoped, but enough to do something with.

The batt, however, has been much less predictable, and a total riot.

When I was home for my stepdad’s death in March, a friend who seems bent on enabling my fiber passions decided I needed the comfort of fleece.  She was right, of course, and let’s face it:  when it comes to fleece, I have the resistance a 2-year-old has to candy.

One of the partial fleeces she sent was a Gotland/Karakul/Rambouillet mix from a wether named Mr. Onery.

I’ve decided the name is appropriate, but not because the fellow is producing ugly wool.  Rather, he can’t seem to decide what kind of fleece he wants to grow.  Have a look:

In most crossbred sheep, you have a fleece which bears the characteristics of its ancestry to one degree or another. So, for instance, a Rambouillet/Teeswater fleece may look and feel more like Rambouillet or more like Teeswater, or may be like both; it may have the Rambo’s fineness and the Teeswater’s silkiness. Mr. Onery, however, seems to have decided to grow representative locks of all his ancestors . . . sort of.

See, Karakul is a primitive breed with a double coat rather like Icelandic, except that—in my own experience—Icelandic has a higher proportion of thel than Karakul has. But it does have that very long tog and the distinctive undercoat, the thel. In Mr. Onery’s case, the tog is much softer than his Karakul ancestor could claim, and the thel is similarly softer and a bit longer or more variable in length than the Karakul. In some ways, the thel is more reminiscent of a low-crimp and rather silky Rambo lock.

And then there is the Gotland, with its somewhat silky feel and wavy curl.

And to both of those, the Rambouillet has added fineness and a denser lock.

I rather want to meet this sheep. Because, you see, he simply cannot look like what my imagination paints him as: a softly curling ball of shiny wool with drooping spikes of tog in a crazy patchwork quilt of lock types—rather like a wilting porcupine. But he IS a confused little soul, isn’t he?

Given the variations in lock length even within the locks, there’s just no good way to comb this fleece without losing half the fleece. In order to retain as much as possible, carding seems to be the only viable option. That at least gives the opportunity to mix up the sections so you get some of all types of locks in a single batt, and then to blend those well. I’ll pull out any stiff hairs as I come to them, but thus far the fleece promises to be fairly soft, very silky, and have a lot of shine.

The batt in the Day 12 photo above was carded on the Strauch Petite, and nigh well exploded when I took it off the carder. It weighs 1.3+ ounces, and is over 4 inches thick, without being dense at all.

I am Totally entertained. And I can’t wait to see what the yarn will be like.

There are a bit less than 8 ounces in 328 yards. Because it went from spindle to wheel during a period of time when I was spinning other weights, I rather lost track of what I was spinning—which means that the WPI varies a bit. It’s a soft, squishy worsted weight (9-12wpi) at fairly low twist and with roughly 5-8 TPI. It’s actually rather cushy stuff.

Day 1:

Three combed bird’s nests of Bond and half a bobbin of singles from the “Mad Hatter” batts from Enchanted Knoll Farm and which I’d cannibalized for the corset yarn in the last post.

Day 2:

The rest of that bobbin; no photos.

Day 3:

An entire bobbin of the same singles. That finishes the fiber.

Day 4:

Both bobbins plied.

Spinning a very lofty yarn does at least two things: It creates a wonderfully squishy yarn, and it makes you improvise. Because really, the bobbin isn’t intended to hold this much. When the bobbin is so full that it can’t turn, but you’re determined that if you just keep working at it, you’ll get those last few yards squeezed on there somehow, there’s only one solution: spin to add the necessary twist, then stop, and then manually turn the bobbin in order to wind the yarn onto the bobbin. Repeat. Endlessly. Or rather, seemingly endlessly. You do eventually reach the end, but not before you’ve questioned whether that determination is not really just a bit of plain, old-fashioned obstinacy. And of course, the answer to that question is inevitably that of course it is. Obstinacy. Stubbornness. Because, after all, yarn is a giving thing with very few rules, and of course you can squeeze an extra couple of yards onto the bobbin. Of course. Right?

Right. Only, then you find you can’t wind it off because, hello, you’ve filled the bobbin so full that it won’t budge. However, it’s amazing what you can do with a screwdriver, and it’s amazing how well a bobbin on a screwdriver can spin when you wedge the handle between a couple of sofa cushions.

There are roughly 167 yards at a bulky 8-11 wpi.  The sari silk and angelina really wanted the yarn to have texture, so I let it.  It turned out slubby, soft, and  very squishy.

Day 5:

A batch of combed Bond bird’s nests.

Day 6:

A bobbin of singles from the Spunky Eclectic “Oo-La-La-Tropi-Cal” colorway in superwash BFL.

Day 7:

The last of the Bond, combed. The big ball in the back is 2 ounces, the two in the front are an ounce each. And that makes 600 grams of combed Bond:

. . . ready to spin:

Day 8:

Finished the Spunky fiber, and plied.

This is the pre-wash shot, so ignore the curly bits and lack of fluff. The yarn is hanging to dry as we speak, and I’ll post a better shot after it finishes.

Day 9:

Exactly 4 ounces of Bond singles at about 40wpi. This yarn is destined to be a 3-ply, so there are 2 more to go.

The Bond is Thomas from Kate Lowder’s farm, and is a lovely fleece. The color is rich, and the sunbleached tips add warmth. It’s this fleece:

I’ve decided Bond is in my top fibers; it’s soft, bouncy, and resilient, and I simply love a soft fiber with good crimp. And, combing the fleece gave me the chance to really test the larger Valkyrie combs from this post. I also gave the combs a test on a bit of Romney, Cormo, Wensleydale, and CVM. Each of the Bond nests weigh between 8-10 grams, but Cormo nearly explodes on the combs, so I was only able to clear 6 grams from a full comb. The combs handled the fine wools as well as I’d hoped they would. They’re very sharp, have a good balance, fit my hand, and the fine tines and fine spacing handle the fine wool nicely. I would recommend using the pad to anchor the comb; it’s a simple affair but is nicely effective and adds no extra height to the stationary comb.

Similarly, the combs had no trouble with the Romney. However, they struggled a bit with the Wensleydale unless I flicked or teased open the locks. That wool is very strong, and I think the heavy curl is simply a bit too much for the fine tines; however, Chris’s heavier grade combs should have absolutely no trouble handling the curly longwools and coarser fibers.

On another note, I do know he’s working on making a full-sized set of combs in different weights or gauges, and I’m looking forward to seeing what he comes up with.

In NON-Tour news, there’s been a bit more fiber prOn. Meet Rifle, a CVM (California Variegated Mutant) ram with a lovely fleece:

CVM is a very spongy wool. It’s soft, with loads of crimp and an incredible degree of elasticity.

I’ve combed a nest to see how it behaved, and I can understand why a lot of folks instinctively lean toward lace with CVM. But I find I’m curious about a blend between CVM, Merino, and silk . . .

Morro Fleece Works washed the fleece, so there are now 4.5 pounds of fleece ready to be prepped and spun.  And yes, they did a lovely job and I would cheerfully use them again.  The fleece is soft, squeaky clean, and not scrambled.

And Humble Hills has some simply luscious Merino. There are a couple of pounds of silvery-taupe or champagne colored lamb . . .

and four of a beautiful adult moorit . . .

These, however, are not washed.  Can you guess what I’ll be doing in my free minutes over the next couple of weeks?

Yesterday was the spinning group meeting, and I cannot say how much I enjoy the group.  It’s rare that one finds a collection of—as Marit said yesterday—very different personalities, but who all genuinely thrive in each other’s company.  I can’t host the full group since our place is a bit small and having even the vacation-slimmed group here means removing furniture from a room in order to have room for five or 6 and wheels—and even then it’s a tight squeeze.  So knowing that they can all get along?  It’s definitely a plus!  We’ll meet privately for August, but then need to go back to a public location for September to allow for walk-ins we don’t know but, in the meantime, it’s nice to have the group in a more cozy environment.  And I have to laugh, because I have the same sort of syndrome as someone who works with kindergartners all day and then finally has a chance to talk to adults:  they can’t stop!  Poor Marit and Ingvild didn’t get out of here until almost 5:30—and we quit at 4!

I’m going to become one of those eccentric old ladies everyone avoids because they can never get free and she only seems to talk about one thing.  (Hm.  I need to think about the verb tense here.  “Going to become” may be a little optimistic.)

For those of you not in the know, Tour de France has a corresponding fiber event where spinners all over the world wash, comb, card, flick, blend, and spin.  It’s a way of watching the Tour, cheering for the riders, celebrating the event, and at the same time doing a little stash busting and project spinning, or just spinning in company with others.  The spinners rest on the days when the Tour rests, and challenge themselves on the day when the riders have the hardest leg of the tour.  There are teams devoted to specific fibers or tasks, a team for clearing out spinning UFOs (unfinished objects), another for new spinners, one for sprinters, and a host of others.  For some spinners, the goal may simply be to finish a yarn which has been languishing.  For others, it may be to spin the yarn necessary to a particular project.  Others may have set themselves a challenge to spin their first yarn of a certain fiber, or their first fleece, and still others may be using the Tour as a way to try and spin up some of their stash.   But, regardless of whether the spinner is starting with raw fleece or ready-prepared fiber, if you listen carefully, you’ll hear the quiet swish of fiber being prepared, the global hum of spindles and wheels, and the soft chatter of spinners everywhere as they participate in the ancient craft of making yarn.

For my part, I’m trying to do a little stash busting and finish off a couple of the things which are incomplete.  I won’t set myself specific goals beyond that since I do have to work and there are indeed other things I need to accomplish over the next three weeks, but I’ll take it as it comes and see how far I get.

Because yesterday was the spinning meeting, I actually got very little done, contrary to general expectations.  So, Day 1′s fiber results?  Three combed bird’s nests of Bond fleece (a lovely lovely Bond named Thomas, from Kate Lowder) and half a bobbin of fingering-weight “Mad Hatter” singles from Enchanted Knoll Farm.

It’s a start.

The SNHU class is finished, although the term didn’t go as strongly as I’d have liked as a result of the earlier chaos, and there are some things I do need to revise before that course runs again. Still, I was proud of the troops for hanging in there, for trying, and for doing what is ultimately a drafting and brainstorming process—which is counter intuitive to what they’re accustomed to (creating a finished, polished text). In an eight-week course, and when the purpose is to give them an orientation and hands-on acquaintanceship with a specific form of writing, the best you can do is create drafts and think of the last version as a more polished draft.  That’s not easy for them, and I do understand that.  But I hope they’ll be encouraged to continue to work with the texts they’ve begun, to see the potential in them and the possibilities to adapt them to different publication markets, or simply try their hand at a new essay and experiment with the skills they’ve picked up.  Generally speaking, they did very well, and I was indeed pleased with their work.  Creative writing classes really are a joy to work with, even if the term is a chaotic whirlwind.

Likewise, the Norwegian students are finished, and I’m down to marking exams.  This coming week has two deadlines I need to meet (including finishing the exams), but here too I’m pleased with the students’ dedication and willingness to try things which are unfamiliar in order to learn a new technique or method, new concepts and ideas about writing and literature.  And, here too I see changes I need to make to the courses.  There are certain tasks and approaches with which the Norwegians are less familiar than their American counterparts, and as a result, I need to adjust a couple of assignments to keep them from panicking and stressing as much as they are.  For the stateside troops, it’s all part of the routine.  For the Norwegian troops, however, it’s uncharted territory and I’d rather they went into those tasks with more confidence and a stronger foundation so that they weren’t so intimidated by assignments which should absolutely NOT be intimidating.

So, I have work to do.  Fortunately, I have the better part of a year to do that tweaking.

And after this week, I’ll have time to figure out where the heck I am on other projects.   I’ve decided to just call this semester a wash; it’s been far from normal on any front, and the past month has been filled with minor surgery for DH and the creeping crud for us both, so I’m thinking of July as a sort of fresh start.  There are simply times when you need to do that and, in a manner of speaking, write off the immediate past as out of the ordinary, know that you’ve done the best you could with it, and pick up where you left off before that period of time.

Fresh starts.  Whether they’re daily events or a bit more infrequent, they are important.  They give us a chance to reconcile, to catch our breath, to reassess, to renew.  Without them, life could easily become overwhelming at times.

Fresh starts and cheesecake.  What more could you want?

We’re getting there.

I started to say that there has been very little fiber activity over the past month, but there’s been more than I realized; those odd little moments as you wait for one deadline or catch your breath between assignments really add up!

I’ve agreed to do a spindle workshop in October, and suddenly Marianne (one of my spinners) and I found ourselves demo’ing spindle and wheel for a random collection of folks at the local 4H farm on the 6th.   It was an odd day, and Marianne and I ended up just having our own cozy little spinning meeting, but we did have the chance to put a few folks on a spindle and show them that there is more to spinning than the old black-and-white pictures they remember about their great-great grandmother carding unwashed wool outside in the yard of the family farm.  Most of them have no idea that they can get prepared spinning fibers, and I have to say that I really think that the best way to tempt people who are otherwise NOT interested in fiber in spinning is not to hand them a greasy fleece—but to hand them a bit of clean, well-prepared and brightly colored roving.  For those who are already interested in spinning, it’s a different question and starting with fleece can be perfect.  But the average person off the street who has no prior interest?  Most of them think of it as stinky smelly stuff and feel a pressing need to wash their hands immediately afterward—and you can’t really blame them, particularly if the fleece they’re handed is not a handspinner’s fleece.

With that in mind and with the idea that I’d use the materials for the October workshop, I went ahead and brought in a teacher’s pack of Babe spindles and dyed some Brown Sheep rovings.  So, we had these:

And these:

So, there sat Marianne and I, spinning and giggling at the absurdity of being placed in a corner which was largely outside the traffic pattern, surrounded by her handspun and some colorful rovings.  Odd, but still fun.

At least I’m all set for October!

And there have been a few yarns finished in the interim . . .

It’s just Corriedale, but Crown Mountain Farm does wonderful colors. This is an old colorway I don’t even know if they still carry: “Azure Dreams.” Spun semi-woolen, thick-thin, and 2-ply, for 7.5 ounces and 516 yards. I seem to be the queen of thick-thin these days, and I’m figuring it is just a side-effect of the past few months’ instability. Profound as it is not to say, spinning seems to reflect life these days, and I think we can safely say that life has been fairly uneven. The WPI ranges from 11-18, but I’m very into soft yarns, so it’s a lovely squishy stuff which will knit up into a wonderfully smushy fabric for someone.

It’s Norwegian White in the “Kentucky Derby” colorway from Spunky Eclectic. A bit less than 12 ounces, spun thick-thin and bulky with a TPI around 4 in order to keep it fairly soft. WPI ranges from around 28-4. Lightly fulled, 478 yards.

Norwegian White is one of those wools which is too coarse for me, but which spins up into a surprisingly lofty and relatively soft yarn when it’s spun in low twist singles.

In contrast, there was this:

Organic Merino roving from Spunky Eclectic, in “Storms of Jupiter” colorway. Spun semi-woolen. A worsted weight at roughly 10wpi, 365 yards, 215 grams, in a true 3-ply. Very soft, and very squishy.

And this:

It’s not grey. Really. But I can’t get it to take a good photo! It’s a deep blue-green in various hues, spun thick-thin as a low-twist single. The fiber was a gifted handcarded batt from Ullsmeden, and consists of 50% Norwegian lamb, 35% Merino, 15% Tussah, and a bit of Angelia. The fiber lent itself to a thick-thin textured single, and there are 219 yards in the 3 ounces, ranging from 6-22wpi. I’ve no idea what it’ll become, but it needs to be something special.

And finally, there was this:

It’s what I call a corset yarn. The core and one single are spun in one direction and plied together, and the final single is spun in the other and plied with the 2-ply. The fiber was “Sweet Grass” Polwarth batts and roving from Enchanted Knoll Farm and the color is more moss-green than appears here. But I’m not satisfied. I underestimated the strength of the colors in the batt, and overestimated the colors in the roving, so I didn’t have the distinction between the core and the laces I wanted. Nor have I got the tension quite right, so the laces aren’t spaced the way I want them. Nevertheless, it’s a soft but moderately firm and very squishy yarn.

There are 49 yards in the little 2-ply remnant (10-16wpi thick-thin), and 221 yards in the corset yarn (9-12wpi).

I’ll get it right the next time.

Looking ahead to the future, I gave in to temptation. This just arrived:

It’s a fleece from a coated CVM ram named “Rifle” and it’s already clean; Morro Fleece Works did a wonderful job on the wash. For the moment, I’m going to tuck it away. It’s a very spongy wool . . .

and I haven’t decided how I want to spin it. It has incredible elasticity and is very soft, I combed a few test locks, but I’m not entirely satisfied. I need to sample a bit, and I’d like to see what happens when it’s blended with a bit of Merino and silk.

And there, friends and neighbors, you have the scoop. This is the last week of deadlines until August, and July 3rd starts the Tour de France—which means it also starts the Tour de Fleece. For those not in the know, the Tour de Fleece is a daily spinning event; it’s a way of cheering on the riders for the Tour and doing a bit of stash busting. Do I have any idea what I’m going to spin? Heck no. Ask me next week.

So, what have I been doing in the odd moments?

Well, there’s this:

Fiber: Corriedale, in a colorway I can’t remember from Crown Mountain Farms (Tibetan Dreams?)
Weight: 8 ounces/226 grams.
Yardage: 715 yards / 653 meters.
WPI / TPI: Thick-thin, 12-22wpi, 5-10tpi, 2-ply.

I’d taken the Victoria and a bit of fiber with me, knowing I’d need the therapy. So, in a very, very grey time, I instinctively reached for color. Bright, cheerful, vibrant, living color. It’s a thick-thin yarn, spun with a long backward draw, so even though Corriedale is a tiny bit rough for me, it’s soft and incredibly squishy.

And I went looking for color with depth, and calm, and serenity:

Fiber: Lambkins superwash, in “Blue Ring Octopus” colorway from Enchanted Knoll Farm. (Lovely, lovely stuff!)
Weight: 8 ounces/226 grams.
Yardage: 826 yards / 755 meters plus a 97 yard (88 meters) “scrap” skein which will work for swatching.
WPI / TPI: Thick-thin, 18-32wpi, 2-ply.

This yarn was begun in the chaos before Ira’s death, and finished during the jet lag period of my return, which means that there were a couple of months between start and finish. I’m claiming the fifth for this one and saying that this is an (ahem) intentionally slubby, thick-thin yarn. The fiber is a wonderfully soft stuff that begs for a backward draw spin, and turns out a slightly silky but very soft and incredibly bouncy yarn. Intentional or otherwise, ya just gotta love it.

Sometimes finishing little things—like skeins of yarn—makes all the difference in the world. And sometimes it really helps to dig your hands into new beginnings.

For instance, this Romney fleece from a ewe named Helen of Skylines Farm:

is now all washed and stored neatly in the loft, waiting to be combed and spun.

But before I could manage that, it prompted this blur of activity you see at the edge of this photo:

That’s JR (nope, I didn’t name her), Mom’s rescue now 7ish and very chubby, and who has decided she absolutely loves fleece. She sort of indicated that last year, but this year she had the chance to have a close encounter with a full, freshly sheared Romney fleece. She decided it was her new best friend, but fortunately was kind enough to not plant herself in the direct middle of it, for which I know I am expected to be most grateful.

And in the midst of funeral arrangements and all the chaos that comes with the death of a loved one, Kate Lowder of Lowder Colours Farm and Fiber Christmas sent a wonderful package that included these:


She’s temporarily named this lamb “Tealia’s Fluffball,” and you’re looking at a lamb fleece from a Teeswater/Rambouillet cross. The photo doesn’t display the color correctly; it’s a wonderful dark, rich brown-black with sun-bleached tips, and wait til you see what it looks like washed . . .

There are a couple pounds of a fleece from a very generous and beautifully variegated Wensleydale named “Willie” . . .

A similar contribution from Mr. Onery, a Karakul/Gotland/Rambouillet cross with the most surprisingly lustrous and silky fleece.

And a gallon bag of Madison, a Corriedale/Rambouillet cross ewe with a fleece that is fine, crimpy, and has more spring than anything else I’ve ever seen.

Care to see a washed lock?

(These colors are correct.)

Are you jealous yet?

Try this. These fine gauge 2-pitch larger-sized combs came in just in time to test out on Madison. I won’t show you those results just yet since I only ran a tiny test on a few locks and need to wash the rest, but I’m pleased.

They’re larger than other minis and have a wider head, which means more combing space. That’s something I’ve been waiting for for nearly a year. They were custom made by Chris of Valkyrie Fiber Tools. I’d been looking for full-sized combs which were fine pitch, but that seems to be a problem with today’s technology.

See, here’s the issue. When you comb wool to straighten out the fibers, it fluffs on the combs. When you comb a fine wool, it figuratively explodes on the combs and suddenly a single lock now occupies five times its space. That means that you find yourself being able to process much smaller amounts at a time, and it can take an eon to comb a single pound of wool—much less an entire fleece. The other problem, however, is that many of the fine wools have shorter a shorter staple length. For instance, Madison’s locks are about 3 inches long. The multiple-pitch full-sized combs mean that the comb depth may be roughly the same as the lock length, which in turn means that you can end up losing a terribly large portion of a lock in the comb because the comb is not shallow enough to allow you to get the grip on the fiber you need.

You can find multiple-pitch full-sized combs, but generally not with fine tines and very close spacing (fines). And therein lies the dilemma. A comb with multiple rows means that you need to make fewer passes combing, and you end up with a silkier preparation. But if the tines are too heavy (thick) and too widely spaced, then fine fiber slips by in the gaps without being treated. Think of trying to comb a baby’s ultrafine hair with an afro pick. It won’t work. So, you need the fine tines and spacing, and you need the larger combs.

And those, friends and neighbors, don’t readily exist at the moment.

Tines are made using a couple or three different materials, but usually aluminum, stainless steel, or carbon steel. Of those, aluminum is not desirable since the tines bend and give far too easily, may rust, may break, and may get dull more quickly. Stainless steel won’t rust, is stronger, and is not liable to break. But it’s not really strong enough to allow for 2 rows of a 7″-long tine. Then there’s carbon. It’s stronger, can rust if it’s not treated well but won’t if it is cared for, and should be able to handle the longer length. But even it isn’t strong enough to handle a full-sized length. Or at least, that’s the industry’s consensus.Until the science catches up, we may not have many options in this area.

However, most mini combs are about 2.5 to almost 3 inches long, and about that same width. Chris was able to make these about 1.25″ longer than the usual minis, and about 2″ wider in order to give a much larger comb area. It’s not the same as a full-sized comb, but it’s much much better than minis.

I’ve tested them, and yep—they work. Chris did a good job with them, and they have a nice balance and feel, the tines are very sharp, the spacing and fineness of the tines themselves is appropriate for the fine wool. Kate tested them on a longwool and found they weren’t quite as suitable, and I think that makes sense; they may actually be a bit too fine for those fibers and a comb with more widely spaced tines may be more effective.

Give me a few weeks and I’ll put them through their paces properly, but I’m feeling decidedly optimistic.

Finally . . . .

They were married for nearly 20 years. They were best friends, lovers, spiritual partners, and buddies. Ira wasn’t perfect, but none of us are, and they were happy. It was, she said, the kind of marriage every marriage should be—and far too many are not.

So, in a way, endings and beginnings have been connected over these past few months. But even in endings, there are new beginnings. A life ends. And in doing so, we have to find new starts, new ways of carrying on, new ways to define—or redefine—ourselves.

Mom’s a tough cookie. You know, the kind with a warm, smushy center. But, she’ll be fine. For now, she’s rediscovering the opportunity to do things she hasn’t had the chance to do in a while, and how terribly important it is that she surround herself with people who care about her. That last is a hard lesson because, quite frankly, she’s a much nicer person than I am. It’s much more difficult for her to cut out people who contribute (or have contributed) nothing positive to her life. But she’s figuring things out, and yes, she’ll be fine. With time.

And next spring? Next spring she’ll be here for a visit. I’ve started the paperwork for a passport for her, and I can’t wait for her to see what I’ve been telling her about for the past 13 years . . . and the people who’ve come to be a part of my life. I’m looking forward to that.  More than I can say.

Like #5, I am alive.  You’ve been neglected, I’m afraid, so let me catch you up.  Grab your cuppa, because this promises to be a long one.

January was busy.

There was a quick visit to here . . .

(Stone Mountain, Georgia)

. . . just for the fun of it.

. . . on one of the coldest days of the year.

It was the start of the coldest period in Florida since 1965/66.

Two days later we bought heavy winter coats, mittens, and scarves.

You know, there’s something very very wrong about going from Norway to Florida and having to buy wool coats and insulated jackets.  And it’s not as if we didn’t already have those things; we just didn’t expect to need them.  Normally a heavy jacket or solid coat, a scarf, and light gloves are enough.  But this time, this time we had Norwegian temperatures while Norway was having its own record cold snap.

But, seriously?  Tell that to a friend.  “I went to Florida and bought a wool coat.”  Yeah, riiiight.

On the other hand, much of the month was spent here . . .

This is Strozier library at FSU. 200,000 square feet of space. That means books. Lots and lots of books. Access to digitized and other media  resources, current journals, and while it may not be the Ivy League library some folks crave, it is a Level 1 Research University with a full-service library—and a pleasure to be in.

And yes—I was able to get rather a lot done.

There was a fair amount of time with family in the interval, and yes–it was good time. It was important time, and it was—and is—short time. To say that there are clouds on the horizon would be to indulge in a cliché, but there are few others which are appropriate.

This little fellow has been with me for a long while.

I’ve used him as a shelf-minder, for writing exercises, and as an occasional paperweight or book block, but I keep him in sight because he reminds me of something.

“Here there be dragons.”  The phrase crops up on old maps and in folklore, but generally speaking, the thing which was really there (obviously not dragons) was never as frightening or awful as a dragon would have been.  It may have been a new challenge, an unknown, or even a new danger, but it was something which could be learned about and then handled—or at least avoided.  You see, even dragons can be tamed, trained, or simply understood, and the dark spaces which they are used to represent on the map are generally never as frightening as the imaginative image of the dragon itself.

In other words, there really are very few things in our lives worthy of being called dragons.  Death and loss are, perhaps, competitors for the title, but yet, even they . . .

I’m increasingly convinced that most of the time we just need to get past our own fear and lack of knowledge and figure out what the heck that thing in the mist really is.  Once we’ve named it, we can deal with it, or at least come to terms with it.  And then, it seems to me, that the issue is whether or not we can control it.  If it is not something within our control, then being afraid of it feels very much like a waste of time and energy—and we all have better things to do.  If it is within our control, then it’s time to start working with the beast.

So, here there be dragons.  If I cannot eliminate them, I can at least teach them to sit quietly on the shelf and make themselves useful (or at least not detrimental) in some way.

Here there be dragons.  But I can deal with them.  So can you.

Thus far this year, I’ve finished three projects.

First, if you don’t already know it, Miriam Felton of MimKnits is getting ready to publish a book.  The hard part of the work is already done:  she’s already created the patterns.  Now she just needs to put it all together.  But see, the very very cool part of this is that the book is a book of lace specifically for handspun yarn.  The kind of yarn that you want to be able to knit until you run out of yarn, or until you’re ready to stop.  The kind of patterns which allow you to do that, and which won’t be obscured by the often-shifting colors that handspun tends to be.  That.  That’s the book.  And if you’ve never had the pleasure of working with a MimKnits pattern, you do need to try one.  The patterns are all clear, well written, easy to follow, and the finished product is inevitably beautiful.

Remember this?

1200 yards of it are in one of those patterns. You’ll see it. Complete with all my test-knitter’s mistakes. Poor Miriam had to re-knit one border because I hadn’t twisted a stitch properly, but I know it took her a couple of hours to do what it took me two days to complete! I keep saying this, but I don’t think people believe me: I am the slowest knitter in the world.  So, folks, please:  don’t judge her beautiful pattern based on my wonky knitting.  Trust me; the pattern is perfect, and the stole is beautiful.

And do you remember this?

It’s now this:

and this:

and this:

Don’t you love the dignified blocking method?  It’s 69″ across and it could have gone further.  It’s 47″ tall and wraps over to the back on both the top and the bottom by about 6″ each.

It takes up most of the living room floor.

It’s the Feather & Fan shawl from A Gathering of Lace, and I’m rather pleased with it. Of course, I’m particularly pleased with the fact that it’s done. Let me repeat myself:  I AM the slowest knitter in the world. This shawl was on the needles for 13 months.

But in the vein of finishing things, do you remember Matteus? The lovely Shetland lamb from Stonehaven Farm?

He now looks like this:

The picture doesn’t do the fiber justice. It’s a lovely dove grey with a golden brown cast, and it’s going to turn into a Sleeves In Your Pi shawl.  It goes to the wheel this weekend, and I can’t wait.

But you see, part of the reason all those 21 batts are finished is because of this arrival:

It’s a Pat Green Supercarder. I know, that doesn’t mean much to many of you, so let me tell you the important bit: It’s an electric carder. No more cranking, you can use both hands to handle the fiber, and that third drum creates a silky smooth batt as long as you have the fiber properly prepared.

It is my new best friend. Its name is George. (Of course, anything that doesn’t talk back is usually named George, but this is George of Disney’s cartoon “and I will hug it and pet it and squeeze it” fame.)

It has also taught me a few things, but you’ll forgive me if I save that for an upcoming post. Instead, there’s one other thing I want to share with you . . .

This.

I’ve smudged out the last name for personal reasons, but that’s the label on my office door. MY office door. The “førsteamanuensis”? Associate professor.

I got the job.