Trenchwork

Truthfully, I don’t even know where to start. I’m back, but I’m juggling a bit trying to catch up with students. My head is finally out of a fog—I think—but I’ve had a week of making stupid mistakes, like filling a diesel-powered car with gas, and losing a debit card (which, naturally, I found the day after I canceled it). Life is trying to return to normal, although I have to admit that I’m struggling with motivation for the moment. I’ll get there, but for now I genuinely feel as if I’m slogging through things and all I can do is get through them, knowing that I can work on improvements and corrections over the summer. So, one set of courses is beginning to wind down on a much weaker note than I’d like, while another starts on Monday, and I can only hope I leave both groups with an sense of the strength, the music, and the potential beauty in words—and the understanding that they do have the power to control those elements.

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.