Trenchwork

I think one of the reasons I’m so fascinated by spinning and certain types of knitting is that it is an exercise in transformation. It is the word exemplified.

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.”

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I have some breathing space.  The sprint is over as of yesterday and the pace is now down to a quick trot.  That’s MUCH more comfortable.  Student assignments—except for resubmissions of failed assignments—are all marked.  Student conferences are done, all 120 of them.  Exams need creating, and 2 short essays need comments, and I have some reading to do.  But I’m back on track.

It’s a relief.

It hasn’t been ALL work.  Just mostly.  But there have been a few fun things that have happened over the last month.  First, I want to show you something.

One of the things that came back with me in the suitcase in September—and I gotta tell ya, getting it into the suitcase was an adventure—was this skein winder from Mike and Brenda Harrower of Woodenspinner.com.

This isn’t a great picture, but it will give you an idea of the size. It is large—larger than I expected. The perspective is a bit screwy here, but if it helps, the Rose to the right tops off right at the middle of the crossbars. I’ve been using a niddy noddy to wind off my skeins, and ladies and gents, ya gotta know that after a while, shoulders and wrists are less than happy with the process. I’ve known I needed to come up with a solution for a while, but what I really wanted was an electric winder. I kept thinking that if I waited long enough, someone would come up with a solution for those of us who live overseas; at the moment, they’re all made for 110v and we who are on 220v have to add a transformer—which is awkward and a bit annoying. Unfortunately, coming up with the alternative voltage hasn’t happened. So, at least for now, I’ve opted for a manual winder. After searching, the Harrowers’ winder is the one which came home with me.

It is a clever thing, and Mike has incorporated some neat touches which make life simpler. For instance, the counter is mechanical, but it’s idiot-proof. One arm of the winder is a little longer than the others and thus hits the button on the counter when it swings past. The counter is on its own little hinged shelf, which also means that if the winder accidentally reverses directions—and its natural resting point is with the longest arm down—the counter’s shelf swings back out of the way rather than allow the arm to meet an immovable object. That keeps both the counter and the arm from being damaged, and the counter doesn’t lose track of the number of revolutions. Smart.

The winder adjusts for a 1-yard, 1.5-yard, and 2-yard skein. The dowels screw into the holes in the arms to accommodate that length, and one dowel shifts along the length of the slot in which it is placed.

The turned surfaces are all smooth and neatly worked, and the wood is finished so you don’t have to do that yourself. There is a tensioning system so that you can put a bobbin on the rod and keep it from spinning wildly as you wind.

There has clearly been a lot of thought put into this particular piece of equipment.

However, I find myself wanting to make a few changes. First, I’d like to see the dowels not be wood-on-wood screws, but brass or steel threads set into a wooden dowel which is then screwed into a bolt or collar which is permanently fixed into the arm. I found it difficult to screw the dowels in as far as they needed to be, even with a generous application of wood wax. It’ll be tough for me to unscrew them, so DH has a job for the future unless I modify the dowels the way I’m thinking, or replace them entirely.

Second, I find the brass rod which sticks out of the upright awkward for holding a bobbin. It is tensioned and works like a lazy kate, but I’d like to see that moved to the base so that the rod can be a simple upright rather than having to pull it out and reset it every time you want to use it.

There are a few other little modifications I’d like to see, but those are really the two biggies. And truthfully I have no idea how easy those changes would be to make; when you’re running a small business and doing all the work yourself, even things that should be small and easy can become major hurdles or cost prohibitive.

In reality, the winder is a lovely tool, and it will absolutely get a workout. And the niddy noddy? It is hereby retired to very small skeins!

There’s been enabling.

On the last Wednesday of October, I had the opportunity to give a spindling workshop to the Strinda Husflidslag. There were about 22 ladies, and if I counted properly, 18 new spinners. And me.  Just me.  I only had an hour and a half, which worked out to be less than that by the time everything was settled and we managed to get spindles and fiber into everyone’s hands. But, spin they did. I couldn’t do more than give them an introduction—the basic idea that adding twist to fiber gives you yarn—but by the time they left, a couple had a few yards of fresh 2-ply while others had a spindle of fresh singles. We didn’t have time to get into anything in any depth, but they saw how things worked, hopefully had a fairly solid idea of what to do next, and I think they had fun. What more can you ask for in a lightning introduction to anything?

I’d have loved to have shown them some of the raw fibers which can make beautiful yarn and had a lovely black Shetland lamb fleece from Stonehaven all picked out for that purpose, but we didn’t have time for it. And, that’s ok; there’s only so much you can absorb at one sitting.

We used Brown Sheep mill ends I’d dyed in June for the training fibers; I like using those since they’re cheap and the quality is good, and they have a bit of grip.  Folks don’t feel they’re throwing away money if they do what they think is really screwing up.  But I also wanted to  give them a sense of the other fibers they could find–they didn’t have to start with fleece if they don’t want to–so I dyed a few other fibers in the week before the meeting.  I wanted them to see a bit of difference, and I thought that those few who might have tried spinning before may want something a bit more organized than the mill ends. I also knew I could spin those fibers myself later, or I could list them in a shop site for the start of January. And these, too, I’m rather satisfied with.

There’s BFL, Aegean:

Doldrums, a 22-micron Merino:

Old Rose, a 50/50 Merino/Tussah:

Country Music, a New Zealand Lamb and generally nicely soft wool:

The Good Earth, a strong Merino:

and Peach Cobbler, a nice 18-micron Merino.

Some of it has already left the house, but the rest is in limbo for a little while. I have more fiber to dye, and batts I want to card, and I’ll have time to play with some of that in the coming month and a half. I’m looking forward to it.

And then there’s fleece.

Really. Lots of lovely fleece.

Some of this was waiting for me to get to it in September, some came back with me, but before the schedule got hairy, this batch went into the wash:

(click through for labels and more info)

Polwarth, Shetland adult, a Merino and a Merino lamb, Cormo, a Rambouillet/Corriedale cross, a Shetland lamb, and a Teeswater/Rambouillet cross lamb. The Polwarth is the one which was posted earlier, and which came from Wendy Dennis. The two Shetlands came from Lois Moore of Stonehaven Farm, and the two crosses came from Kate Lowder of Lowder Colours Farm.

All washed.

Fluffball, the Teeswater/Rambo lamb fleece, is even now sitting in a box next to the chair I usually spin in, waiting for flicking and carding. And I want to save every single strand of that fleece, and the two Shetlands, and the Polwarth, and . . .

And then something which was ordered earlier in the summer showed up on the doorstep a few days ago, and is waiting for a few quiet days so I can take my time and wash it slowly.

It’s a show fleece from a Bond ewe at Gleason’s Fine Woolies.

It took first place in the 62′s Colored Ewe class at the Colorado state fair, and I’m very pleased with it. I’ve already spun a lovely Bond from Kate Lowder (“Thomas”; see #46 on the 2010 gallery page), and Bond has become one of my favorite breeds as a result. I want to compare Bonds, but I have to say that these two fleeces have simply left me wanting more.

In other words, I’m back, and like most folks, I have a mile-long list of things I want to play with. With the colder weather and darker days, can you think of much better than to spend them knitting and playing with fiber?