In other words, it’s largely business as usual for the start of a semester.  Except, this semester will be filled with grey Polwarth–and zombies.  Yes, I said zombies.  Seriously, I’m totally entertained by this one, and if it doesn’t kill me (no puns intended), it’ll be a blast. We picked up an unexpected master’s student coming into the process very late, and his interest is in The Walking Dead (a graphic novel series), and gender/phallocentric theory.  How many people do you know who get to read about zombies for work?  At a minimum, it will break up some of the other more typical reading I have to do.

I’m looking forward to it. (grin)

But, while we’re getting more light these days as we move toward the spring and summer (although you wouldn’t know it by the ice on the ground or those freezing blasts of wind we’ve had lately), I find I’m craving color.

So, there is some. Color. Bright color.

There’s “Jabe.”

Fiber:  65/35 SW Merino/Tussah + spices (sari silk and glitter), dyed in the “Jabe” colorway from Enchanted Knoll Farm.
Weight:  119 grams
Yardage:  312 yards
WPI/TPI:  slightly slubby 2-ply, ca. 12wpi/6tpi.

This was a delightful spin, and the photo is a little dark, but doesn’t show the glitter and texture of the yarn.  It’s liable to turn into a cowl, and my fingers are itching to get it started.

But, there’s something else on the needles at the moment, and given that I have the attention span of a gnat, I’d better finish one thing before I start something else.

It’s the Red Bling yarn, and is slowly becoming a Spring Leaves stole.  Here too, you can’t see the glitter and sari texture in that yarn; think Christmas after a tinsel attack and you might have the idea.

So, while the daily regimen may be grey, the future is probably going to be so full of color and glitz in interludes that you’ll need shades.

Consider yourselves warned.

Bright and blingy.  With zombies.

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!

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 Citron shawl.

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 The Longest Thread competition?  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 Lowder Colours farm. 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 Humble Hills Farm (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?

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 5-way Cable Wrap, 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:

k3(edge ) | p4 | k10 | p2 | k10 | p2 | k10 | p2 | k10| p2 | k10 | p2 | k10 | p2 | k10 | p2 | k10 | p2 | k10 | p4 | c8 | p4 | k3(edge)

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.

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.

But then, I’ve also grown rather fond of the theme song to New Tricks (the BBC detective series), “It’s alright.”  It’s alright, it’s ok.  Doesn’t really matter if you’re old and grey . . .

Certain songs are just happy songs.

And yes, it’s a new dawn, and a new day.

And I’m feelin’ good.

I’m back.  I am, as of this moment, entirely caught up with work.  It only took an entire semester.  And, aside from a bout of TMJ which means that talking and chewing are problematic, I am feeling good.

Feel free to laugh about that latter; it’s a bit of a riot, even though it’s annoying and tedious.  It’s amazing how much work you can get done when you’re not talking to colleagues or friends, or how often you can actually eat yogurt or cottage cheese and fruit for lunch (breakfast, dinner, snack . . . ).  On a positive side, DH is rather enjoying the quiet—although he knows it’s only temporary.  Poor dude.   And wow what a change an increase in calcium—you know, that yogurt, cottage cheese, risengrynsgrøt, and so on—can do for your nails . . .

Life has finally balanced out.  It took rather a long time, and I’ll be honest and say that I’m not thrilled about how well I’ve met my own standards.  But it’s done.  All teaching aside from exams—including a handful of Masters theses—is done, and I only have about 50 exams to mark in the coming four weeks.  Not bad at all, and I can deal with that.

On a professional level, I have work cut out for me this summer.  I have reading to do, and need to figure out where my own research stands and see if I can pick it back up again.  I have prep for upcoming masters students, and some limited prep for two courses I’ll be working with in the fall.  And none of that is bad at all.  I’ve also learned that I absolutely must take time out for myself, so yes:  the summer will be a much slower pace, focusing on my own interests, and actually taking time out.

We ARE making progress, aren’t we?

I think we have a tendency to forget there is no “S” on our chests, or that we are allowed to find some things overwhelming.  I’m convinced that the key lies in how we handle that moment when we recognize our own frailty, and what we do next.  We cannot fix everything.  We are not responsible for fixing everything.  It is not my job to convince a student that putting a bit of effort into his study would actually be a good idea.  I can show him the ramifications and try to make the material interesting.  I cannot make him learn, or necessarily even want to learn.  It is not my job to right every unfairness, although I can indeed (and should) try to make a difference.  Some of those things I’ll be able to do something about; others are well beyond my power.

It is my job to do the best I can with what I’ve been given under the circumstances in which I’m placed, to treasure and support my friends and family to the best of my ability while also recognizing that if I push myself beyond my own limits and crash myself then I will no longer be able to help anyone else, to value my faith, to give myself permission to step back from the general chaos of everyday life if I need to, to enjoy those things that give me joy, peace, and even simple satisfaction.

I believe that charter belongs to all of us.  I’m afraid, however, that we tend to forget that.

So, ladies and gents, that Superman/-woman complex you’ve been laboring under?  Ditch it.  You may accomplish small miracles and feats of strengths now and then, but you cannot do that all the time and every day.  You, friend and neighbor, are not Superman and there is no “S” on your chest, either.  It’s time to step back, figure out what’s important—who is important—and give yourself permission to fail on occasion, succeed on others, and actually enjoy the things that give you pleasure.

Things that give me pleasure.  In odd moments, I’ve managed to finish a few.

A Spunky Eclectic “Rubber Grapes” Corriedale/alpaca fiber became a simple 3-ply, which became an even simpler checkerboard scarf.

And do you remember Fluffball? The Teeeswater/Rambouillet lamb fleece?

It’s finished, and I’m in love with this yarn.

There are roughly 1500 yards in a true 3-ply, at roughly 10-11wpi. This fleece was a frankly sensual spin. The fiber is incredibly soft, with a lot of the silkiness of the Teeswater, moderated by the Rambo’s fineness. It has a subtle sheen, a definitely silky feel, and I’ve promised a cabled hat and scarf out of it for DH. There is considerably more yardage than I expected, so there may even be enough for another scarf or shawlette for me. Seriously, I love this yarn.

And finally, do you remember Matteus, the Shetland lamb?

And Thomas the Bond?

Look at them now.

The shawl pattern is Miriam Felton’s Comfy Shawl from her Twist & Knit book, with Matteus as the body and Thomas as the edging.  They play beautifully together, don’t they?

It’s a wonderfully easy pattern just made for rustic yarns or yarns with character.

I love this shawl. It is 38″ deep with a 74″ wingspan, and not in the least bit heavy because the yarn is lofty and airy, which means that the shawl was soft, soft, soft, and wonderfully comforting. I only used half the yarn, and I have enough left for a second shawl—and I’m going to reserve that for mom to decide whether she would like to turn it into a prayer shawl for a special friend. It and the pattern are perfect for that.  And I would like to think that Matteus especially might be pleased to know that his fleece has turned into a spiritual and physical comfort for someone who needs it.

For future prospects, Clio the Bond is fully washed and ready for combing or carding.  Doesn’t she look at home on the sofa?  I actually ran out of hot water half through the process, so there is a small portion which may need to be rewashed, but I suspect it will be ok if I comb it.

And two Polwarth fleeces from Wendy Dennis are received, washed, and on the way to the carding machine. Aren’t the locks gorgeous?

There’s a white:

and a beautiful dark grey with warm brown tips:

the latter of which is destined to become a sweater for DH.

Last, but far from least, this past month I was blessed with two small but very special handmade gifts.  There are neat little stitchmarkers and two very practical magnetized pattern markers/book markers from Made by Mona (from Mona herself):

And a gorgeous pair of handknitted socks in Trekking yarn from Charlotte—for me who never knits socks:

I cannot say how much I appreciate their thoughtfulness, and their generosity.

The events of the last part of the year have thrown me off schedule, and with the course starts, a couple of unexpected tasks, and the same bout of illness everyone else has gone through this past month, I’m figuratively buried under work and scrambling to catch up.  I’ve got about a ten-day sprint ahead of me, and then I’ll be on a “normal” quickstep for the rest of the term.

But in the quiet moments, or moments when I couldn’t focus on work, there have been a few fibery things happening.

First, the Spinners’ Home lottery had its winner, and a prize was cheerfully set up.  I enjoy holding that lottery each year, in part because it’s such an enabling opportunity.  And you do know that fibery folks are major enablers, yes?  I know I joke at intervals that spouses and SOs of spinners and knitters probably should have their own support group, but I’m increasingly convinced that it might really be a good idea!  And then there are sweet folks like Marge who, newly introduced to fiber and spinning, decided to try felting and intrigued her hubby with the process so much that he got into helping her felt accent rugs for their home.

Frankly, I think hubby has the right idea!  Do I think I can convince mine to get into spinning?  Um, yeah, no.  That’s so clearly not going to happen, even though he has gotten very good about noting that something is “pretty” along the way.  And I’m ok with “that’s nice, dear.”

So, Mono got her packages, is apparently very happy with them, and I had a thorough blast selecting them, thanks to the good folks at Mielke’s Farm and Alpaca Spinner.  Amy, Andrea, and Linzi are wonderful to work with, and always do an amazing job helping sort through the necessary bits and pieces of arranging a gift for an international recipient.

I think that’s something I increasingly value:  the solid concept of customer service and going-the-extra-mile philosophy of a good vendor.  In today’s world it happens more rarely than we’d like, which makes it even more significant when we find folks who do emphasize that aspect of business.  They just make it so easy that I find myself going back to them whenever I need something they can fill, and I have absolutely no hesitation about recommending them to others.

Chris of Valkyrie Supply is one of those as well.  If you remember, I asked him to make me a set of really fine combs that I could use with the finer fibers—and which were larger than minis.  I was struggling with shorter-stapled fine wools; they were simply taking forever with the smaller German combs, and those combs weren’t fine enough.  Remember, he came up with these:

They have become my go-to combs. They work brilliantly for fine fibers, and they work for the superfines, but not quite as well.

So, Chris has been working on some superfines. And, despite my sins, he sent them to me to test. Like a peek at the prototypes?

They’re true minis, as opposed to the much larger extrafines on the left.

Again, extrafines on the left, supers on the right.

And look at this spacing:

I ran them through some of the superfine fibers I had in the house. Specifically, the same Merino lamb I’d tested with the extrafines:

They were absolutely excellent!

I ran them through alpaca, angora (bunny), and mixing a very fine Merino with Tussah into a 50/50 blend. They handled the latter as brilliantly as the initial combing. They struggled a little with the last sixth of the alpaca and angora fibers on the stationary comb, but a little manipulation of the comb cleared those last fibers. They performed notably better than the extrafines with those superfine fibers, and Chris is modifying them again in order to make them even better. Specifically, he’s tightening the spacing, and adding a third row.

They are, I think, going to be brilliant—but I’ll know for sure in a couple weeks or so when I get the three-row head to test.

These combs are happening because Chris is listening to spinners. They’re asking for combs which can handle the superfine fibers, and which are not massive, 3-pound combs. They’re asking for combs which can accommodate a slightly shorter staple, or which won’t lose half the fiber in the heavier tines and wider spacings of the traditional combs.

To the best of my knowledge, none of the major names available at the moment match the extrafines for fineness, and none come anywhere close to matching the superfines. If Chris can pull these combs off—and having watched the process, I have no doubts he can—they are going to be brilliant.

And have I said that he has a hackle to match the extrafines, and will create a hackle to match the superfines so that you can transfer the last pass to the hackle and thus build up a nice body of fiber to diz from in order to create a decent sized bird’s nest?

They’re not the only things he has in the works, and I’m looking forward to seeing what else is up his sleeve. I have the distinct feeling that when he’s finished, he’ll have not only good combs for a general application, but combs and hackles which can handle the niche fibers or more specific applications as well.

I love these kinds of vendors; they’re not satisfied with the status quo, but work to create what you need.  What more could you ask for?

And yes, I’m thoroughly enjoying the testing process.

On other fronts, the quiet moments of the past month included a bit of dyeing.  One of the gals in the spinning group asked for a bright pink she could make into something for her 1-year-old daughter.  I sent her home with Pepto Pop:

The picture doesn’t capture the color; it really is Peptobismol pink with purple highlights, and she’ll end up with a bright cotton candy with purple splashes. If she can finish working with it without having Fantasia nightmares of pink elephants on parade, she’ll be doing very well indeed!

And there was Harvest:

and a bright yellow and orange flame in silk caps,

along with its cooler component:

which served as the inspiration for some silk top in Mediterranean:

And a bit of a rose and gold silk in Strawberry Shortcake Swirl:

And a bit of Merino in Bruised Grape:

Color makes me happy.  It’s one of those things you can throw into  a pot and sort of forget while you work, then come back to at the end of your job and find a wonderful splash of magic waiting for you.

And you know, a little magic in the course of a day is absolutely not a bad thing.

So, here I am . . . a bit late, but a bit relieved that the year has turned the corner.  2010 carried more than its share of sadness, stress, and challenges, and I’m praying—quite literally–for a better year in 2011.  And I’m sorry, but friends and family?  Listen to me very carefully:  You are all required to take care of yourselves this year.  I refuse to lose another of you any time soon, so just suck it up and reconcile yourselves to the notion of being around for quite a while to come, thank you very much.

Christmas was quiet—and routine, for the most part, although I can see the effects of the stress of the year in stupid little accidents as the year wound down.  On Christmas Eve, we traditionally go to the in-laws for dinner and gifts; they come to us on Christmas day.  For the first time in the nearly 15 years DH and I have been married, I broke a dish.  And of course, when I make a mistake, I don’t waste time with little versions:  I really go out big.  As I was carrying two of my MIL’s bowls into the kitchen—one with potatoes and the other with surkål—I stumbled over the kitchen rug and took the most graceful full gainer on the floor.  I did my best to save the bowls, but ended up landing on one of them anyway.  An old, porcelain china serving dish.  Not something one would find at Ikea.  I managed to save the one with the potatoes, but surkål and bits of china were smeared across the kitchen floor—and I’ve no idea how I managed to not cut myself or the clothes I was wearing.  How exactly does one land on china without getting cut??

It took us a few minutes to clear the kitchen of sauerkraut (that’s what surkål is; the sweet variety) and china chips, rather longer for me to recover from the shakeup, and I’m still well and truly miffed at myself for not managing to save that bowl!  There’s no way to replace it, but perhaps I can find a similar one next week when the stores go back to normal hours.

On Christmas day, DH prepared the main dish and the primary side dish:  pinnekjøtt and kålrabistappe.  The in-laws were over, and afterward my MIL and I were standing at our little one-hole sink while I rinsed dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.  But the sink is small, and too small to rinse the big pieces, so I had used the hose attachment to spray the baking pan.  It’s a simple arrangement:  pull up the stopper and the water diverts from the faucet to the hose; push it down and the water returns to the hose.  Nor is there anything subtle about it; it’s a jet stream of water which is liable to drench everything in sight if you’re not careful.  Turn off the water and it stays in whatever setting you left it in.  Turn it on, and if you happed to leave it set to the hose, well, that’s where the water goes.  And it’s easy to turn off the water and forget to push the stopper back down . . .

My poor MIL was nigh well drenched.  Literally.  Thankfully, wool sheds water pretty quickly initially, and the humidity has been so low that her sweater and skirt dried out in less than 15 minutes.  But bless her heart!  First I break a bowl she’s had since the early days of her marriage about 60 years ago, then I hose her down.

She decided she should probably go sit down in the living room after that; we figured it was probably safer.

And the next day I managed to drop an insulated thermos on my head . . .

What a way to end a year!

On a more positive note, I turned the new year last night by carding some of Fluffball,

a Teeswater/Rambouillet lamb fleece from Kate Lowder.  There are now 7 lovely batts waiting to be spun, and a bin of separated locks waiting to be flicked and carded.  Given the events of the past few days, I thought it might be wise to work with something other than wool combs for that token “start the new year” activity.  Because, doggone it, with the way things have been going, I’d have ended up seriously puncturing myself and I figured the hospital’s ER would have enough to do on New Year’s Eve.

So, folks, we’ve turned the corner.  This is a new year, a fresh start, and a chance to make another beginning.

Spinners Home.

As some of you know, I own and maintain the Nordic spinners’ forum, Spinners Home. I set the forum up nearly four years ago when I found that there was no place for spinners in the Scandinavian countries—and particularly Norway—to talk about spinning in their own language, and using their own traditions and heritage.  They were feeling overwhelmed by the American conversation, and that made sense to me.  So, I made the space for them, and I generally try and keep a low profile.  The forum has grown, and it has a contingent of regular voices that I very much enjoy seeing.

Every Christmas-New Year’s period and going into my birthday, I set up a lottery for the members.  It’s a way to get them to look back over the past year of activity, and look ahead to what they’d like to do in the coming year, and possibly set a few goals for themselves.  However, it also gives me a small opportunity to enable one spinner in a way s/he may not have opportunity for otherwise.  It’s a simple process; all they have to do is answer a few questions on their blog, then post the link in the forum so I’ll know who wants to participate.  Then, on the 4th, I’ll draw the name of the winner, do some homework to find out about likes and interests, and arrange a “surprise” package.  Easy, totally fun, and I absolutely enjoy it.  This is the fourth year I’ve done it, and it’s becoming a bit of a tradition.

This year I thought I’d answer the questions myself, so the next bit will be in both languages.

* Hva har du lært om fiber/spinning/bruk av ditt håndspunnet garn i det siste året?  Hva har du prøvd nytt?  Hvordan har du presset deg selv ut fra din “comfort zone” til nye utfordringer?  (Om du er helt fersk til spinning regner jeg med at alt ligger utenfor din comfort zone.  )  Eller, hva har du funnet ER din comfort zone?  (“Comfort zone” betyr at noe er så behagelig at den har ikke noe utfordring; man kunne nesten gjøre det uten å tenke.  Det betyr ikke at det er kjedelig, men heller at du har mestret det og at du kan “falle tilbake” på det for å slappe av og fortsatt vite at produkten kommer til å bli bra.) (Translation:  What have you learned about fiber/spinning/the use of your own handspun in the last year?  What have you tried new, and how have you pushed yourself out of your comfort zone?  Or, what have you found IS your comfort zone?)

I år har jeg holdt mest til comfort spinning; tid og stress har vært for mye, og jeg har ikke klarte å ta opp mye nye.  Det finnes et par unntakelser med fiber—stort sett feller—og det svaret kommer litt lengre ned.  (This year I’ve held mostly to comfort spinning; time and stress have been overwhelming, and I’ve not really managed to take on much new.  There are a couple of exceptions—mostly to do with fleece—and that answer will come a bit further down.)

* Har du funnet at du spesielt likte noen fiber/redskaper eller ikke likte noe?  Hvorfor eller hvordan? (Have you found you especially liked or dislikeda particular fiber or tool?  How or why?)

Jeg skjønte det for lenge siden, men jeg liker veldig å jobbe med rå ull.  Jeg merker at garn som jeg har forberedt selv helt fra bunn—som jeg har vasket og forberedt og spunnet selv—klør ikke så mye som ullgarn som ble kjøpt, eller til og med som garn jeg har spunnet fra den slags fiberen men som var allerede gjort klar for spinning.  Som et resultat har jeg blitt litt hektet på Bond, Polwarth, og noen nydelige Merino.  De er myke, har bra elastisitet, og jeg er helt fascinert av hvordan fiberene forandrer seg fra lokkene til garn til noe annet—hva som helst annet.

Chris med Valkyrie Supply laget et sett ullkammer til meg som jeg elsker.  De er de ekstra-fine kammene som finnes nå i butikken; de fungerer supert med fine fiber.  Akkurat nå jobber han også med å lage et par kammer som er enda finere—og jeg gleder meg virkelig å se hva han får til.  De kommer til å bli veldig nyttig når det gjelder superfine fiber som kanin og silke. Men hvorfor jeg liker kammene . . . Å kamme ull er utrolig beroligende og tilfredsstillende som også gir en utrolig bra fiber å spinne.  Disse kammene passer akkurat til hendene mine, har bra balanse, og veldig spise tenner.  Jeg er glad i redskaper som viser at de som laget dem var nøye med detaljene i tillegg til at de gjør jobben som de burde.

English: It’s not anything new, but I really do love working with fleece.  I actually do better with fleece I prepare myself than many other fibers as far as sensitivity is concerned, but in particular I’ve developed new addictions to Bond, Polwarth, and some truly lovely Merinos.  They’re soft, have lovely bounce and handle, and I love seeing how they change from fleece to yarn . . . to something else.

Chris of  Valkyrie Supply made a set of combs which I’m in love with; they’re the extra fines listed on the shop site and they do a wonderful job on fine fibers. Even more tantalizing, he’s working on a set of combs for superfine fibers, and I absolutely cannot wait to see what he comes up with.  As for why . . . Combing is a quieting activity which happens to give a terrific fiber prep.  These combs fit my hands, they have a lovely balance, the tines are perfectly sharp.  I love tools which show good craftsmanship and attention to details, and which function well.

* Hva har du fortsatt lyst å lære eller der det noe du er nysjerrig om?  (Fiber, teknikker, metoder, redskaper)  (What are you interested in learning, or curious about?)

Du store min.  ALT.    Spinning og fiber—uansett hvor mye man lærer—er en reise hvor man kan lære hele livet uten å ha lært alt.

English: Oh, my goodness.  EVERYTHING.    Spinning and fiber, regardless of how much one learns, is a journey where one can learn one’s entire life without ever reaching the point of having learned it all.

* Hva er det du er mest stolt av i spinning/bruk av ditt håndspunnet garn i det siste året?  (skulle elske å se bilder her!)  (What are you most proud of in your spinning or use of handspun over the course of the past year?)

Jeg skal ikke si at jeg er nødvendigvis stolt av noe, men jeg merker at jeg blir veldig fornøyd med et par ting.  Jeg var glad at garnet mitt kunne brukes i Miriam Felton’s nye bok, Twist & Knit i den Tudor Stole.  Men kanskje ble jeg mest fornøyd med mitt eget Traveling Woman sjal (se forrige innlegget) som ble strikket av garn som ble spunnet fra ull  jeg måtte vaske, karde, og til slutt farge selv.

English: I won’t say that I’m necessarily proud of anything, but I would say that I’m satisfied with a few things.  I was pleased that my yarn could be used in Miriam Felton’s new book, Twist & Knit, in the Tudor Stole.  But perhaps I’m most satisfied with my own Traveling Woman shawl (see previous post), which was knitted of yarn spun from fleece I washed, carded, and eventually dyed myself.

Because of everything else that’s happened this year, I wouldn’t say that I’ve pushed myself out of my comfort zone with fiber.  The fiber has, in one way, been its own comfort zone, and that has been terribly important in its own right.   In other words, the fiber I’ve known has proven itself to be a comfort, a pleasure, and a reassurance.

And sometimes a little luxury . . .

Fiber: Tussah silk top, dyed in the “Gold Dust Woman” colorway from Enchanted Knoll Farm.
WPI/TPI: WPI= ca 20; TPI =ca 9
Weight: 56grams/1.97 ounces
Yardage: 400 yards/365 meters

Sometimes one needs a little luxury.  And how can one go wrong with silk?

Meet Mr. Onery.

(photo courtesy of Kate Lowder)

Mr. Onery was a Gotland/Karakul/Rambouillet cross, and produced one of the most eclectic fleeces I’ve ever seen. In my own experience, it seems as if mixbreed locks are a bit more homogenized; they pick up characteristics from the parents, but as a blend rather than in each individual lock. Mr. Onery, however, chose to stay true to his name and defy expectations.

This partial fleece . . .

produced all these different types of locks:

And, every type of lock had a different handle. The longer locks which bore the strongest resemblance to a Karakul lock had the softer thel and harsher, longer tog—just as in true Karakul. The other locks varied a bit, and it was easier to see a cross of Rambo and Gotland; the locks had the Gotland’s silky handle and luster, and were modified by the Rambouillet’s fineness and crimp.

I decided to card the wool rather than comb it. Because of the differences between the types of locks, combing would have cost me a major percentage of the fleece. Instead, I pulled out the kempy hairs, or the tog which was too coarse to be moderated by the silky feel of the other locks, and blended everything together.

The process started during Tour de Fleece, and I finally finished it in August.  I was in the mood for an olive green, so the yarn went into the dyepot and came out as this, which you’ve already seen:

It still has some luster, and it still has a rather silky handle, and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed appropriate that it become a Traveling Woman shawl. The fleece had made the trip from Kate Lowder of Oklahoma to me in Tallahassee, Florida, then across the pond to Norway, then back as yarn to the US on the next trip, and of course back across the pond home again. How many other fleeces could say that they had racked up those kinds of frequent flyer miles?  And, given the nature of this particular year and my own travels—physical and otherwise—this particular shawl seemed appropriate.

So, it began.  And it grew.

I wanted to use all the yarn, and while the pattern is written for a small shawl, it’s written in such a way that it can be made larger—considerably larger. The pattern calls for 2 repeats of the middle recurring section.   I did 9.

It was the knitting I carried with me when we went to the in-laws for dinner, or which I pulled out when they came to us.  So, it grew.

And grew some more.

And finally finished.  With about 8 grams to spare, after a few finishing touches.

Anita of Knitting, with Dogs once told me that lace on the needles looks like “boiled ass.”  I loved the description for its accuracy, and I’ve never forgotten it.  When it’s on the needles, lace knitting is all wrinkled, rumpled, unclear.  Only when it’s taken off and blocked do you really begin to get an idea of what you have.  It expands, becomes lighter, more delicate, airy.   The pattern becomes clear, and suddenly the indistinguishable mess which was on two pointy sticks becomes what it was meant to be; it comes into its own.

In blocking, it becomes a butterfly emerging from its cocoon and, eventually, spreads its wings to show you what it’s grown into.

Corner to corner, the extra repeats gave this particular butterfly a wingspan of 104″, and a depth of 36″. I crocheted a doubled chain on the ends of both wingtips, and the shawl is easily long enough to double around and tie in the back in Danish fashion.

This traveling woman is pleased. From sheep to shawl, all the process my own. As I wrap myself in the warmth, I think about the metaphor. Life changes. It is not always what we want, not necessarily even what we think we need, but it is always in a state of flux. It never stays the same, and even when it brings tragedy, that tragedy is part of the change. It is, by nature, a dance of transformation.

And as this fleece became this yarn, and this shawl, and a hand-made fabric which pleases both my eye and my touch, and which wraps the very process of transformation around me and keeps me warm, I hope that I too continue to transform—hopefully into my best.  Because, you see, I have a suspicion that if we ourselves do not grow and transform, then life’s transitions and all that comes with them will knock us flat, and we’ll never be more than a clump of “boiled ass.”