Ravellenic Games

I'm participating in Ravelry's version of the Olympic games: the Ravellenic Games (renamed after the term "Ravelympics" offended the powers that be).

Several weeks ago, a lovely lady decided that she needed to jettison a fair amount of her fiber and fiber-related tools to make room in her home and life so that she could pursue her desire to become a massage therapist. "Take it," she said. I felt like I should offer her something; however, since 1) my income is nearly nonexistent and 2) she truly wanted nothing for her treasures, I agreed to haul everything home in the dad-mobile.

Among the items was one I've wanted but had no hopes of ever having: a picker. This is a Pat Green picker, a fearsome and awesome tool that transforms clumps of fleece into clouds of fiber. It's not a tool for sissies or fools. You can do some serious damage both to body and wardrobe if you're not careful. I wound up with a small scratch and put a couple holes in a shirt before I figured out what I was doing. Safety, my dears, is the name of the game.

The fiber I was given is lovely Wensleydale, a longwool that's as shiny as can be and curly, too. It has no "kink," as does, say, merino. Still, it's soft and luminous, begging to be spun.

Picked and ready for dyeing. This batch is destined to become shades of purple, thanks again to my generous benefactor.

 

Ta-daaah!

Dyed, picked, and carded. I'm good to go!

A friend of mine, whose father owns many, many alpacas, gave me a suri fleece. She did, because she knows that I'll actually spin it up and make something. She can't wait to see the result, and neither can I!

So, until next time, I'll be spinning up a storm, fighting deep-vein thrombosis (yes, it's a medical benefit of spinning), building lovely calf muscles, and soothing my psyche at my wheel.

My Nerd Wars dissertation: silk and fun with indigo

A couple weekends ago on Worldwide Knit in Public Day I went to Greenbank Mill. Of course I'll knit anytime, anywhere; however, I was compelled to go because of one thing: an indigo dyepot.

That greenish tinge and surface scum let you know that it's good to go.

A fellow Raveler named Pallas sent an envelope of Japanese indigo seeds to me last fall. I did as instructed and put them in the fridge for the winter. Wonder of wonders, they weren't thrown out and weren't lost. What are the odds? (Hint: not good).

Here are some of the seedlings I grew and donated to Greenbank Mill's dye garden.

One of the attendees was a lovely young woman who'd brought along her wedding shawl for a dip in the dyepot. Since I'm terrible with names, I can't remember hers. I do, however, know that she's a friend of Heather, who was in charge of the day's dyeing. (For a bride-to-be, she was remarkably calm for being just 7 days away from the big event.)

Here is the before shot of her shawl (unblocked, naturally).

 After a dunk in some hot water, it's ready for dyeing.

 

 After just a few minutes, dyemaster Heather pulled the shawl out of the pot and made sure that every bit of the knitting had a chance to be exposed to the air. With indigo, you have to go on a bit of faith that the blue will magically appear. When you pull the item from the dyepot, the color is initially yellow. It's only as oxygen permeates the dye that the blue develops.

 And voila, a lovely blue shawl for the bride. Everyone oohed and ahhed. Dyeing with indigo never gets old.

 I hope that Heather posts pictures of her friend wearing the shawl. I'm not a girly girl and so don't get all squee-rific about weddings; however, there's just something about a handmade shawl hand-dyed with a natural plant one week before the wedding makes me just melt.

 Here's my "stuff," waiting to be dyed. For this second tournament in Nerd Wars (over at Ravelry), I'm on the Supernatural Team. My project is a "dissertation," meaning that it will take me three months to complete.

So, here's the first part of my entry: nearly 1,000 yards of hand-spun unbleached Tussah silk from this year's Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival. I'm telling you, spinning that silk is just about a close to a drug-like state as I can get these days. The way it handles, the way it shines, the way it plies -- it's all just a fabulous dream. Happy happy, joy joy!

 Here goes my pre-wetted silk into the hot pot.

 And here it goes into the dyepot. Just look at that beautiful dark-blue scum -- mmm! (Not quite sure why the Rit dye box was there ... maybe Heather brought it along as a backup?)

 Just look at that! You can see that the yarn is primarily yellow. If you look at about the 11:00 position, though, you can see where the yarn is turning blue. It must have been just above the top of the dye.

 And here we go. The yellow gradually gives way to a faint blue, then a teal-ish blue.

 The blue just keeps developing. Now it's more of a Wedgewood blue. We had quite a time with the skeins -- they tangled a bit and I'd tied each off just a tad too tightly. I only discovered the latter when I wound one of the dried skeins into a "cake." Oh, well. If I wanted absolute uniformity in my yarn, I'd just buy it, right?

 The first dip left the yarn a bit lighter than I wanted, so it went back in for a second dip. And here it is, in all its glory.

 See what I mean about the tangles? But this picture is really accurate when it comes to both the color and sheen of the yarn.

 I just now took this picture, and Im not exactly happy with it. The day is overcast, and I just don't have the time or patience to futz around with settings, lighting, etc.

So there's the indigo silk yarn and the shawl I'll be making with it. The project has to relate to Supernatural, and my take on it is pretty much that shawls make me think of hugs, and those Winchester boys sure could use 'em (hugs, that is) as they hunt demons. Since I am my father's daughter, I also related Dean and Sam constantly having to leave one town for the next one to the leaf motif (get it? leaf / leave -- awful, I know).

 And just another shot -- going for artsy here. Again, without changing the lighting. I do just love that macro setting, though. Up close and personal!

There you have it. Indigo dyeing and my awesome silk. I'll do my best to post progress pictures. I have through the end of August to complete my project. Guess I need to "man up" and cast on already!

Spinning thin

Christmas was warm and lovely and filled with lots of fibery gifts.

This is the first fiber I decided to spin up. It's a 75%/25% blue face Leicester/Tussah silk top and it's just the softest, most wonderful fiber ... mmm!

Now when I sit down to spin, I don't make any decisions in advance. When I want to spin, I spin. I take a zen approach to it and just live in the now, loving every minute.

I've had discussions with my father, an engineer, about spinning. In his mind, I should always spin with a particular project in mind. In my mind ... well ... is nothing. I spin without a care in the world. Once I'm done, I ply to match my mood (2-ply or Navajo ply [3-ply]). After plying, I skein, tie off, and wash the finished yarn. Only when it's all dry do I discover how many yards I have. With that information and the WPI (wraps per inch) of the finished yarn in hand, I sashay over to Ravelry and use the advanced search function to see what patterns match my two specs.

My father and I will never see eye to eye on the whole issue, and that's OK.

One of my tendencies is to spin thin -- really thin. This picture shows the thickness of a single ply of the luscious BFL/silk fiber.

I'm always kind of amazed at how consistent my yarn is. I'm self-taught, so I don't know how I'm able to do this. Interestingly, I spin fast -- really fast. It's like I'm in a race. Whatever the reason, it makes me happy.

When I was demonstrating at the Hale-Byrnes House in December, one of the other spinners commented on my speedy treadling. She then added that she spins slowly so that her yarn will be consistent. (I wish I had the exact phrasing, because it was one of those pointed remarks some women are skilled at making. There's a hidden sting, but if you comment on it, you just end up looking thin skinned. I once worked with a woman who had a black-belt in this kind of verbal combat. Let's just say that she and I weren't the best of friends.) But I digress...

So here is the finished yarn. I decided to Navajo ply this because it was just so thin that I thought that a two ply wouldn't be sturdy enough for whatever it will end up being used for. Besides, I find it hard to wait until I have two bobbins. Working from both ends of a cake (i.e., a puck-shaped "ball" of yarn) is fraught with danger. I can't tell you how many times I've tried plying using this technique and had it blow up in my face.

I'm not looking for any applause here. I'm as mystified as the next person how I'm able to 1) spin so fine a single and 2) end up with such a beautifully plied yarn. Whatever the reason -- and there really doesn't need to be one, right? -- I'm perfectly content to spin thin. (I predict, though, that I'll find spinning fat to be quite a challenge.)

Playing Rev War Dress Up

 On Saturday, December 4, I spent the day spinning at the historic Hale-Byrnes house. I'm a native Delawarean, but I'd barely even noticed this house before I googled it. In fact, I had many, many doctor appointments at each of the medical offices that flank this house, and even so, I never saw it.

 I'm not sure if this will be legible once it's posted, so here you go:

Hale-Byrnes House

Stanton, Delaware

George Washington's "General Staff Headquarters" on September 6, 1777. Here Generals Washington, Lafayette, Wayne, Maxwell, Sullivan, and Greene planned defense of Wilmington. House built circa 1750 by Samuel Hale. Owner 1776 -- Daniel Byrnes -- a miller and preacher. Restored by Delaware Society for Preservation of Antiquities. Donated to State in 1971.

A friend very kindly lent me a selection of period clothes to wear while I spun. I'm no purist, so I wasn't period-correct from the skin out. It was quite cold that day, and old houses are notorious for being marginally warmer than the outside temperature.

I'm putting aside what little vanity I have to show you, from the unmentionables out, what a woman might wear during the Revolutionary War. I did have serious thoughts about decapitating myself in these pictures but figured that looking wan and tired was also probably period-correct and so should stay.

Note, please, that any errors in description or naming are mine. My friend, K.B., who loaned me these clothes, is period-correct and knows everything ... I don't.

Here we have the shift. A woman wore this next to her skin -- no underwear, no bra. She might wear a corset or stays over her shift, but that's it. I chose not to go the period-correct route primarily because I knew there wouldn't be any "costume checkers," but also because it was pretty cold that day.

 Over the shift goes the petticoat. Now I'm not sure if this is actually a petticoat or if it's a skirt. I think it's the latter, but who am I to argue? The waistband of this baby is twill tape, which means one size fit most women, regardless of girth.

Next is the "modesty." It's basically a square of fabric that's folded once to make a triangle. The small pointed ends are tucked inside the shift, and the large point is outside the shift in the back. I pinned the front ends to my bra so that I wouldn't have to worry about it creeping out of place. For a piece of cotton, it did a really good job of keeping my neck and decolletage warm.

The dog is optional.

 The short jacket comes next. K.B. made this with fabric that came from Williamsburg -- pretty zippy, eh? And speaking of zips, this jacket has neither a zipper nor buttons. During the Revolutionary War era, the buttons went on the men's clothing; women's clothing was secured with pins.

Remember the song in the musical 1776, when John Adams's wife asks him to remember "pins, John ... pins"? Well, this is one of the reasons why she wanted them. It would be pretty hard to get things done if your clothes were flapping open in the breeze.

 The next layer is the apron. Notice how my figure is looking more and more like a packing case? Well, a woman's silhouette was pretty much a rectangle with a head and two arms sticking out.

And the piece de resistance (sp?) is the cap. This one was a tight fit -- I don't know what I would have done if my hair were any longer than it is (about 3 inches all over). If it were a better fit and I did have long hair, the hair would be stuffed into the back part of the cap. Women wore these caps to keep their hair clean and to keep it from falling into the fire or whatever else they might have been working on. This was a practical and functional article, not (as some may think) a symbol of women's oppression by men. I don't know about you, but I sure wouldn't be happy if my hair fell into the soap vat, the fireplace, the baby's dirty diaper, or whatever else I'd have been attending to in the 1700s.

So, that was my outfit. Underneath I wore black tights, a pair of SpecialEd's black socks, and a pair of black ankle boots. Everything worked out great.

So, the next time someone asks me if I'd be willing to come demonstrate spinning somewhere, I'll know what to wear for the Rev War era. If I don't need to dress in period-appropriate clothing, then I'm good to go.

From Raw to Rawr: My Silk-Spinning Adventure

One of the things I bought at this year's Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival was silk.

 

I bought two bags of natural (i.e., not bleached) Tussah silk. Not having heard that silk is "so hard to spin," I just sat down at my wheel and gave it a whirl. I spun that silk obsessively (hmm ... seems to be the case anymore for anything I spin), including at this year's Highland Games.

Yes, I like to spin without shoes -- sue me. I'd applied a lovely shimmery gold nail polish the night before, so my toes were rockin'.

So, once I was done, I had about enough two-ply silk yarn to knit the Clementine Shawlette (pattern: Interweave Knits).

When I say about enough, I mean that it was going to be touch and go. But I do love to live life on the wild side.

So here's a closeup of my shawl. The color is a kind of really old, slightly dirty ivory -- not my best color.

The last weekend of August I attended an all-day workshop on dyeing with indigo and other natural plants. The program was held at the University of Delaware, and one of my FiberGuild buddies was there, too, so I felt a bit more comfortable. Having her there helped me avoid either of my two default settings for social nervousness: either silence or nearly nonstop talking.

I'd thought I might like to dye the shawl blue (i.e., with the indigo), but when I saw the results of the black walnut hull dyebath on another participant's silk fabric, I knew that this was the color for me.

I took this picture on a really sunny day, so the green is really way too vibrant compared to the shawl's real-life appearance.

Take a look at this. This is more what you see when you look at the finished product. There's that true silk shine!

And here's a shot of the whole shawl and the tiny ball of leftover silk. (Excuse the crappy "styling" in this photo. I was trying to get pictures as quickly as possible to keep Loki from suffering a nervous breakdown. He's such a momma's boy, and he didn't like being left inside.)

I can't wait until the next opportunity to spin myself some silk. If you haven't tried it yourself, why not give it a whirl?

Fair Hill Scottish Games

Saturday was the 50th Annual Fair Hill (Maryland) Scottish Games. The day was -- glorious!

Everywhere you looked there were men in kilts.

Nicely turned calves were in abundance.

As were nicely knitted kilt hose. My, my!

Nice socks, fella! Um, someone needs to take these lovely lads aside and explain to them that proper laddies always sit with their knees together.

I mean, seriously. The judging table for the pipe and drum bands was sitting right across from where our fiber guild was set up. So after watching each band perform, I and everyone else on that side of the field saw more manly thigh than some might deem seemly. All I can say is, thank goodness these guys were fully kitted up with their sporrans.

It was great to see so many women participating.

And girls, too.

The boys were fairly represented, too.

Hard work builds character!

Hey ... knees together, buddy.

Lots and lots of dogs attended, including this little heartbreaker. His owner very graciously allowed me to kiss his forehead and fondle his silky ears.

This is Corky, a highlands cow (I think that's the right name). He's a very sweet, placid guy, and his haircut reminds me of the one that Skimbleshanks sports. Well, to be fair, most of the 15-year-old boys wear their hair like this.

So, our fiber guild attended the games to demonstrate spinning and weaving. The loom was already prestrung as you see here. The small bobbins of grayish thread were spun by four of us throughout the day.

The finished piece, a shawl, was to be auctioned off to the highest bidder at 3:00 p.m.

Almost done!

And here it is. What a beautiful piece of fabric! Linda (holding it) was the highest bidder -- lucky her!

This is me, late in the day, spinning silk. (Photo credit: my big bruddah)

So, to recap, nice legs.

Drummers of all ages.

But all with the same intensity.

Except this guy. He was about the same size and shape as his drum, and he was rocking and rolling and having a grand time.

Pipers, too, were into the day. The guy second from the right was completely absorbed and paced throughout the tune.

So, as I wrap this up and say goodbye to the Scottish Games, I leave you with this image ...

Men in kilts ... le sigh!