So you know what's cool?

Well, lots of things are cool:
spinning
and weaving
and looms
and friends
and solitude
and vaccinations
and sunshine
and rain
and baby plants
and one syllable four letter nouns...

Today, though
the thing that delights me
more than I can say,
is noticing--

that I no longer notice--

that I wear a hand spun/knit wool shirt
every single day
summer and winter.

Well-- truth to tell--
in the summer I occasionally wear
those handwoven linen
and  linsey-woolsey shirts.
But still--
(and somewhat to my amazement),
I've made more than enough
next-to-the-skin-soft
wool shirts
 to see me through.

And though I wasn't thinking at the time
about  why it was possible,
one of my great daily pleases
these last months
has been dressing up for my loom every day.
And I think the loom appreciated my effort.

But I had  forgotten--
until tidying up a stack of
"magazines with articles I wrote"--

that once upon a time
having enough such garments
was a deliberate plan--
my mid-life self
committing
to the sartorial comfort, pleasure
and general well-being
of me,
now,
at 60.

So golly thanks, former Sarah
for the serendipitous Magic Medium--
for the blissfully approachable Somewhat Slanted
(of which I now have five)--
for The Cloisters (pictured above)--
for Kestrals Alight back in 1996--
for all the unnamed others
(many of which I've given away)--

--for all the glorious fleeces
(and the sheep that grew them)--
and for uncountable days and weeks and years
of pleasure--
past, present and future.

And yes, also for my Sarah-Dippity Skirts
which though they are not shirts
and were completely unplanned,
I nonetheless wear so often
that I'm now having to patch them.

So you know what's cool?
That the midst of one of the weirdest
and most unsettled
and oddly fascinating times of my life so far--
that even as I am taking a break from knitting
to rest and reset--
it is yarn, once again,
that is seeing me through.

there is always tapestry.

And though Rebecca doesn't cover
these materials in her wonderful new book
The Art of Tapestry Weaving,
(officially launching today!)
she does provide instruction
on all  of the techniques I used.
(well, not the clamp and scrap wood support part,
but maybe I"ll talk about that
​some other day on this blog).

Today --

well today--

​all I knew for sure--

So how many photos
does a gal have to take
of her backside

before she finally decides
that enough is enough?

I mean honestly --
all I wanted was to show
that the reason
​for the long narrow tapestry
​with the endless slits--

--was nothing more
than a desire to wear this skirt
(photo below)
without the bunchiness
​of a belt.
And now  I can!
Yet for some reason,
though it feels great on the inside,
my inner model and inner photographer
were not communicating this morning,
and every photo of the outside
is badly lit,
out of focus,
has me posed in front of
the only distracting object
on an otherwise empty wall, 
or my hair is in the way. 
And each time I checked out the photos
and said to my model,
"fix the elastic on your braid!"
did she do it?
Nope.
​
Ah well.
​We all have our little skills.

At any rate,
the skirt is old favorite
that was designed, alas, 
in that sartorially awkward moment
when retail clothing companies decided
that a "waist band" should sit
somewhere below one's belly button,
yet I've always loved it'
so awkward photos aside,
 it is delightful to be able to wear it
​without tripping over the hem
and/or displaying an unnecessary
​amount of stomach.

Why it took me so long
to think of this solution
​I've no idea,
as the fit of this
otherwise heavenly garment
has been annoying me for years.

But I guess brains,
like cameras
do not always focus
on the thing
that in hindsight
one might have preferred.
And since ideas
have their own pace
​ and agenda,
I can only be happy 
that this one showed up at all.

As you can probably tell from the safety pins,
I just cut the tapestry from my loom yesterday.
and wove in the the ends before supper.
After a quick bath
(a thing I do with all wool weft tapestries,
especially if it is a thing I'm going to wear --
though now that I think of it,
I'm not sure I've ever
woven an 'accessory' before),
I squeezed it in a towel,
laid it flat to dry,
and by this morning 
it was ready for a nice steamy iron.

 I was pleased to remember
to weave slits/buttonholes at either end
so the suspenders (braces)
could also work 
with this pair of pants
(extra satisfying when structure and function work together),
and am always happy
when Tucking The Tails
keeps stray weft strands
from sticking out hither and yon
on either back or front.

 I'm not, however, entirely happy
with the bulges/folds of the tapestry fabric
above the tiny house center panel
where the front straps veer off to my shoulders
(clearly visible in the photo above),
and I believe next time I'd either 
weave two separate straps 
that literally cross in the back,
or make that center panel wider
so there was more of an H
and a shallower shoulder angle.

This last would also make
a useful design space--
room for an entire landscape perhaps,
or, as in many Coptic garments,
a face looking ever outwards
watching your back,
and noticing 
where you've been.  

So many ideas--
I want to try them all.
Woven words?
(Logger World is traditional 
though what a place for haiku...)

Or a person could use a backstrap loom
and a rigid heddle
to weave a long narrow strip
of needlepoint canvas
then embellish it
with.... anything at all. 

And what about
warp faced pick up?

Oh dear. Off I go.
Please--
save me from this idea storm
and try one or two yourself?
What better way
to show off your glorious work,
and saying what you have to say
than by wearing your heart
on your shoulders?

And now that I think of it
this 194 grams of milkweed fiber
​(and some willow as well),
are calling my name--
really loudly.
Perhaps they, too,
have a sartorial plan
 (not yet revealed),
that will allow them to travel
exciting places
like --
curbside pick up
at the grocery store.

Since it'll probably be a whole week
till I next have a chance
​ to go on and on about Milkweed
(a whole week!!),
​what better way to begin
talking about  a few of
​the books I've been reading
than with ​a photo of cordage in progress
shading the pages---

especially since
one of the many great things
about making cordage
​(vs other methods of bast fiber yarn construction),
is that I can twist and read
at the same time.

Same goes for
spinning well prepared wool
with a familiar, lightweight spindle.

Indeed, 
reading and yarn making
are inextricably linked
in my odd little world.
Reading/knitting too,
though I don't seem to have  any photos
of that blissful activity--
even if I  have (and wear),
a great number
of  the not-very-complicated
but perfect-to-knit-while-not-looking
 garments, that result. 

How lovely, then,
to dive into Milkweed
with someone who has spent
far more time than I 
(at least so far),
exploring its mysteries. 
Aimee Lee's
Making Milkweed Paper
is actually a reference I've had for ages,
her work an unending inspiration.
Click the link with her name
and check out all her work.
The knitted books! The icons!
The Hanji dresses.
OH, be still my heart. 

And to slip from those
ethereal garments,
to Kate Fletcher's thoughtful 
and curious essays
 in Wild Dress--
is a mighty thing indeed.
Even better to be making a garment
while turning the pages.

Then again, 
if we're going to bring everything
back to the integral role
of woman the maker,
who can resist the engaging prose
of The Invisible Sex,
or ignore the pleasure
of wrapping my mind
around the elemental--
nay the central role--
of first cordage makers in pre-history--
probably female and mostly ignored by (male) archaeologists--
while ​physically twisting fibers myself.
Cuz some ways of being a human female
never change at all.
​I could hardly put it down.

I mean -- actual woven illustrations,
 exquisite drawings,
 wide ranging understanding,
rock solid information,
irresistible charm, and deep knowledge--
I am beyond proud
to know them
and really really glad
​to have this book.
The sections on preservation, conservation
and restoration are a gold mine indeed,
and I anticipate a few--
--erm--adjustments--
to the way I've been storing my work.
I love them so much.

Real Reviews!
Rebecca Mezoff
Elizabeth Buckley

When I've needed
to take a brief step back
from textiles
(hard to believe, but sometimes true),
I've been re-delighted
with the imaginary,
decidedly un-sentimental--
even pointy-- elven worlds
created by Sylvia Townsend Warner--
one of my all time favorite authors.
I'm so very happy
that some of her
hard-to-find work
has been recently republished
​by Hand Held Press.
​
Given half a chance,
I'd probably order
half a dozen other books
from this small publisher.
Indeed, I bet I eventually will.

But back to tapestry --
because seemingly
somehow
everything  eventually
returns to tapestry 
in some form other--
if only as  metaphor--
though not in this instance--
there is one more book
I want to mention --
at least one more that I now have
in my physical possession:
the magnificent
The Art Is The Cloth 
by Micala Sidore

Well, now I've almost worn out my mouse batteries
putting links into this post
so it must be time to quit.
Except that while I'm in the mode
 I want to add a short list
of wondrous  and soon-to-be-released
Tapestry/Textile books you can pre-order.
Once they are physically in my world
getting milkweed, coffee filters
​ and wool fibers caught between their pages
I'll talk about each one again,
but in case you like to do
​a big old book order all at once,
and then have them trickle in
like little unexpected treats
​for your future self,
here are a few you'll want to have on your list.



Books to Pre-Order:

​The Long Thread Special Issue  by Linda Ligon
(lucky me to be in this one too--and I can hardly WAIT to see the rest of it)
The Art of Tapestry Weaving by Rebecca Mezoff 
(This book -- I've had the privilege of reading early drafts -- a thorough and glorious resource--
just wait till I have more room to talk about this book!!!!!)
How To Weave A Navajo Rug and Other Lessons from Spider Woman 
by Lynda Teller Pete and Barbara Teller Ornelas.
(Two fifth generation Navajo weavers writing about their work and generously sharing techniques and family stories with us all--THE people from whom to learn stories, techniques and understanding.)

Books Mentioned in the Blog Post:
​
Wild Dress by Kate Fletcher
Making Milkweed Paper by Aimee Lee
The Invisible Sex by J.M. Adovasio, Olga Soffer & Jake Page
Anatomy Of A Tapestry by Jean Pierre Larochette and Yadin Larochette
Earth Materials by Sue Lawty​ 
Of Cats and Elfins and Kingdoms of Elfin by Sylvia Townsend Warner
The Art Is The Cloth  by Micala Sidore

It was hard to get started
 writing today.

Then just as I began
it suddenly seemed essential
to re-arrange the books by my side--

-- a distracting and compelling activity,
especially once I started noticing
 the color red.

Then it seemed a good idea
to wind a warp,
though it wasn't until
I opened my palette box--

--and pulled out a handful
of madder-dyed yarn
(rather than the soft grey
​I thought I was after),

that I realized
​I was in search of a little courage.

Something about
about my ppps of last week
seems to have struck a chord
(at least to judge by
most of your marvelous
and much appreciated comments),
and this morning I found myself
wondering/worrying
if expressing my overwhelming
(and often inarticulate) fury,
at the endless and malicious incitement
to violence of a certain person in power
(however brief my actual words),
meant something new was afoot
with how I present 
myself and my work
here on the blog.

A little think
​was definitely in order.

And while I was winding,
(because, now and again,
everyone needs the advice
 of a magical helper),
I consulted the frog,
who was kindly on hand to help.

(Note: frog front feet are called hands
 by the humans who write the posts at the top of a google search;
 what the frogs call them, I do not know).

Anyway, the frog
(who has been observing me
for many many years),
said:
"Sarah - as far as I,
a two-halved cast iron frog
who stores toothpicks in her belly
can tell,
you have devoted your life
to environmental and social justice
(even if you haven't known to call it that),
and I would bet that your readers
have probably noticed by now
how you feel,
and what you are trying to do,
which means regular overt reminders,
are probably neither useful nor effective--
nor even very interesting
as such discourse is not, actually,
a thing at which you excel--
except, of course,
when they simply burst out,
because, after all, mostly,
​you cannot help being you."

What the frog means by that last statement,
I think, is that sometimes
I am a bit too much
​ of a muchness,
even for myself
(if that makes sense)--

Happily for me,
most of this exuberance
gets absorbed into and by
the results of said idea storms,
increasingly caught into the marvelous
and unexpected materials I continue to find,
 that are endlessly pleasurable
to work with and gaze upon.

And that
is the part
​ I like most
​to share here. 

So my task going forward, then
is to keep practicing
letting my eyes unfocus
from the things
they have been trained to see
by the generations of  white colonizers
from whom I am descended
("this is not a plant, this is a weed--
the man who said so went to Harvard,
or maybe his father did,
or was it Princeton--
and though I can't remember what
 he actually is known for
I'm sure it was terribly important
and anyway you're related to him
so it would behoove you to listen"),
other humans and beings
who have been here all along
and whose true names 
I will probably never know
(what they call themselves, I mean)
sometimes allow me to catch a glimpse.

And the prickly things
I was told I needed to get rid of
and replace with something "attractive"
turn out to be useful and powerful
in ways I am only beginning to learn--
even as they have been fiercely themselves all along
with no need for, or interest in, my approval. 

So thank you frog.
And you, dear reader --
for supporting this work
however it manifests itself.
And for coming along --
--nay, for participating--
in this time we have together
to learn about and make things 
with all that is provided by
​this glorious and abundant
(if we are care-full and kind
and occasionally ferocious in its defense,
and remember to ask permission
before attempting to transform
anything or anyone
because we think we can 'improve' kin),
earth.

And now that I've spilled my guts
all over these pages,

I think I'll return to threading
and reclaimed the color red
​in all its lefty glory,
 as I can.​

How else but with two aprons,
 to pick ​rapidly ripening raspberries

and carry a garden watering timer
​(aka phone)

when neither your linen shirt
nor the  hand-me-over-unfinished-skirt
you're wearing underneath
​has a pocket?

Not that I couldn't remedy that.
A nice patch pocket on the skirt
would be the work of a moment.
​
And the shirt
is a continual work in progress--
the fact that it already has
a teensy tapestry pocket on one side
no reason to neglect the other.

It's just that I wear the shirt so often--
 like every day I'm not wearing
  the linsey-woolsey one--
that I just haven't gotten around to it.

Yes -- it's hard to tell from the drawing
that I'm wearing the linsey-woolsey shirt.
But it is  only short-sleeved shirt I have,
so not a tricky deduction.
Besides, it was just a few days ago.

Also, though I occasionally
bend the absolute truth in my comics
(for narrative clarity only),
I generally aim for sartorial veracity--
if only because I love my clothes
and am oddly attached
to the idea that  future me
might like to enjoy seeing them too
(while remembering what. weenie I am about shopping).

It also helps with the laundry.
("I seem to have worn Sarah-Dippity Skirts
in almost every drawing for this entire diary--
definitely time for a bath!")

But I digress.
Paper pockets
were the topic of the moment.
And they might actually be
a compelling experiment. 
Though the coffee filter yarn
is itself pretty fragile,
especially as singles
(I can't imagine using it for warp for instance),
it seems to stand up remarkably well
 tightly packed in a weft faced plain weave--
at least to the wear and tear 
of life as a diary cover--
growing soft, pliable,
and almost leather-like
​(if a little grubby),
with daily use.

And true shifu,
(woven from hand spun washi)
has been used for clothing for centuries,
so the idea is not totally outrageous --
except of course, that washi
(and the resulting kami-ito)
is often specifically made
for strength and longevity
while coffee filters are (usually)
single use items.
Though expected to withstand
 boiling water and soggy grounds, 
they are definitely not​
as intrinsically strong as washi.
But who knows?
In case you haven't noticed,
my life is a constant work in progress --
my chief delights arising from
​experiments with the materials at hand,
no matter the source.

And as we all learn daily,
you never know 
what is going to happen.

Indeed, I'm super excited
about watching the evolution 
of this diary I just made.
Not only do I get to play
with the wedge weave tapestry
I wove last May.
(2-ply vs the singles of the last one)--

​but I also got (and get) 
to see how the dog bane binding cordage
(made in the fall of 2018),
behaves with constant handling.
It's pretty rough right now,
but super strong
even if I did have to punch
​extra large holes in my signatures. 

Now what was this post supposed to be about?
No idea. 
Undoubtedly something
satisfying and insightful
that would rock all our worlds--
though nothing could equal
the roller coaster ride
of real life just now--
my mind growing, I hope,
as strong and flexible
and welcoming of change and possibility
 as dog bane cordage.
So a bit of paper-induced absurdity
never hurts alongside, say, things like
the recent groundbreaking
 Supreme Court Decision
that almost half of Oklahoma
falls within a Native American reservation!

So I'll just end with this photo--
because it makes me happy,
and is a good reminder
to enjoy the hidden richness
in even the simplest
of moments.

​ps. Tiny chair carved by Linda Ligon's grandfather in about 1915 --
and though this chair didn't start
Thrums Books , Long Thread Media,
and the once-upon-a-lifechanging  Interweave Press,
Linda did, and all three make (and have made)
the world a better place for textiles
and their makers.

pps. Squash plant--a volunteer,
​grown by itself from a bit of compost,
whose contributions to my world
are blossoming even as I type.

ppps.  Because it has to be said:
​Fuck Trump

Well..
 not entirely blue.

Nor, indeed,
​did I make them
 for boating.

It's just that the white canvas
was a scrap of the deck cloth
I helped my son put on his boat
​ a couple of years ago--

and the indigo blue polka dot parts
are left over from a quilt mending project
(dots made with katazome and indigo)--

and I'm a sucker for alliteration and rhyme.

Anyway --
​Sewing the uppers together
with my machine was really nice.
I've made previous pairs entirely by hand
and this was a definite improvement --
​if not in the beauty department,
definitely in timing and lack of hand fatigue.

The soles still required
hand stitching though.
Thank goodness for Glovers needles.

While a thing I'm always happy to have done,
the actual construction 
is a task I put off as long as I can
as the stitching is hard on my hands. 
so I was nearly done
and feeling relieved,
when a new conundrum arose--
I mean -- who wants to go shopping these days,
or wait for online shoelaces to arrive by mail?

 OH JOY!

Of course it took me a couple of inches
to remember how to weave a warp-faced structure
(as you can see in the photo below),
though once I got going
weaving these was probably faster
than locating a website
with laces I liked. 

And OH, I do love these!

So, three runs in, I'm thrilled to bits.
Just what I needed and wanted,
and they delight me every time I catch a glimpse.
Hopefully, they will soon will be
as grubby and broken in
as the pair on the left,
with (I hope)
hundreds of miles
under their soles.


NOTE: For more on my shoemaking endeavors over the past ten-ish years,
including links and sources and process, type "shoes" into the search bar at the top,
or  click the SHOES link on the side and scroll down (this post will be at the top).

Oh, and one more thing:
​
Though August is my usual blog holiday month
my husband is just commencing
what we hope will be a month long
chemotherapy holiday
so I've decided to join him
and take my blog-cation
starting now.

While we have no plans to go anywhere,
the garden is growing madly,
and, as I did manage to figure out
a compelling new set up for my books,
I hope to spend a bunch of time
watching the birds and turning pages.
or... weaving or... knitting...
or doing all of them at once.

The webstore will remain open
and I may send out the odd newsletter,
(vacation post cards of a sort?)
so if you want to get on the list for those
and aren't yet,
there is a sign-up on the right
(or maybe below, depending on your device)

Stay safe,
keep making!

Backson.

A few days ago,
weaving along and geeking out
on the continuing love affair
between plied paper
​ and wedge weave,

I  happened to glance down 
and notice
​ that the tapestry I was making
bore more than a little resemblance
to the clothing I had on--

colors, lines, squares,
and the underlying pleasure
of working with what is at hand
coming together in beloved jeans,
a tapestry in progress
and last summer's tabby-tapestry
linsey-woolsey shirt
(about which I just realized I wrote four blog posts;
if you're interested you can find them here, here, here and here).

Well, that was fun, I thought,
​and got back to work.

Imagine my surprise, then
when the next day,
as I carefully Tucked My Tails,*
I noticed it again --
not quite as marked, perhaps,
though the silvery-grey/brown combo
went well with the pieced linen shirt
 (prototype of sorts for the linsey-woolsey one),
if not the tattered trousers 
(almost as thoroughly mended as the jeans).

*readers of the guide might note the  use of passive weft in the top middle square above, and the tapered end on the top right one

By the third day,
though I did not make a plan,
​I was a little less astonished
when the same thing happened.

This is getting silly, I thought,
​weaving on and blissing out 
on the energy of the tidy little squares.

The day after that
the white hemp pants I chose 
(prototype for the worn out brown ones
and significantly more robust),
did not have much to do
with the colors I was moving into,

but I can't say I was astonished
when I noticed that I was wearing
a Somewhat Slanted Sweater.

The particular pleasure
of making angled squares
is apparently as irresistible just now,
​as turning compost into yarn. 
​
​And sometimes the colors work too.

It feels like I should be able 
to draw some important conclusion(s)
from all of this matchy-matchy
makey-mendy stuff,
but at the moment
I am actually caught up
in the drama of the triangles
that have suddenly shown up
here at the very end of  this long narrow tapestry--
for after the calm of the simple squares
the pointy shapes make my heart beat
in a disconcerting (though not unpleasant), way
and I want to see if what I weave next
will calm it down again--
or not.
And if it does,
whether the underlying wedge weave energy 
(currently contained by the warp tension)
will go even wilder
once released from the loom.
​Stay tuned!

ps.
the "skirt" of today's outfit
​is a hastily wrapped scrap
of a worn-out sheet that
ultimately proved to be beyond mending,
wrapped around my waist
to make a pair of leggings
feel like real clothing,
Because sheets are more real
than stuff I buy at the store?
Go figure.

Frankly, 
I haven't the foggiest idea 
​what to write about today.

Not for lack of ideas --
Oh no!  
I've been awash with those.
I mean, 
a paper gansey dress?
a suit of Somewhat Slanted armor?
There is much to talk about
​in the realm of my making existence.
Yet this is actually my third try
at trying to be coherent.

Part of the problem
may have been
that "somehow"
all sorts of non-blog things
have arisen ​to take over my Tuesdays,
and, deciding to be efficient
the first two blogging attempts
were made yesterday.

What a disaster!
Not a single coherent sentence
​ could I write,
and most of the photos
turned out badly lit
or poorly framed-- 
poorly framed, that is,
unless your hearts desire 
is. to see a corner of my
Sarah-Dippity clad butt
and the bra/underwear pile
of my laundry-in-waiting?

Tuesdays, you see
are old lady (and gentleman) day at the Food Coop
(actually member over 55 gets a 10% discount),
and what with the layers of gloves
and careful spacing and all,
it seemed a good idea
to keep grocery-getting
and blog writing
​separate too.

Tuesdays are also 
my husband's new chemo day
(used to be Monday)
and since I usually try to  do a little tidying
while he's off getting infused,
 I figured if I wrote the blog on Monday
I could take my time
​with the scrubbing,
​the shopping
and the writing.

But Monday,
as I said,
refused to cooperate. 
After a bunch of confusion and angst
it became clear 
that while there are times
and places 
when thinking ahead
and being practical
(wearing  rubber gloves
out in the world etc etc)
is just the thing.

So Monday got to be
the thing it wanted to be,
full of tunes and pink coffee filters,
and I headed out to the Food Coop this morning
where,
be-gloved and bemused,
I had several magical moments of
distant socializing with dear friends--
our plastic coated hands waving madly
from one end of an aisle to another--
and also got to feel
​ a good solid sense of gratitude
for all the beautiful produce
and marvelous, helpful coop stuff
who are keeping us supplied
​for our once-a-week excursions.

And  the cleaning?
Well, I shook out a few rugs
but mostly skipped it entirely,
save for washing
and blocking
the coffee filter Gansey dress
because my imaginary elf self
wanted to wear it
and anyway
I can mop things tomorrow.

But that, the elf comment, reminds me
of what I really wanted to say today,
and why I was trying to take selfies yesterday--

which is that is that my friend Vicki
has designed the coolest hood
for the Somewhat Slanted sweater
and I finally get to tell you about it.
Somehow she managed to combine 
both the utterly practical
(cozy, easy, protective, snuggly),
and the utterly "im"--
(I get to be a wood elf
and a Monty Python Knight
​at the same time),
while making something that is
totally in the "make it as you go" spirit
of the sweater itself. 

Such a favorite, indeed, 
that I'm giving you a second opportunity
to critique my slovenly laundry ways,
my pink Sarah-Dippity butt,
and the polka-dotted apron I forgot I had on,
so you can see the whole thing,
backlit and all.

And speaking of Dan
(though he'd probably rather I didn't)
I do want to say
how VERY much I appreciate 
all your wondrous words and hopes and thoughts
in the comments in last week's post.
I was going to try to answer them all,
but it only made me cry,
and also feel so very grateful
that you are all there,
that we're all in this together
in many different
and many of the same ways, 
and that I get to write to you--
even going on and on
despite thinking I had nothing to say--
and that we can madly wave,
our carefully gloved hands
at one another
from across the world,
and the other side of town,
and feel connected
with our yarn
and our thoughts
and the joy
of the fragile,
​the lovely,
and the absurd.
So, ah,
​thanks.
​
And, onward we go.

That about says it all, doesn't it?

Much more fun to draw my butt--

Because wearable, these are.
​I think I made three
before Shelley of The Yarn Underground
and The Palouse Yarn Company
nudged me to write up the pattern 
so others could enjoy it too--
and then she hosted it on her Ravelry page
until I got around to making my own a few weeks ago.

After that I knit another three or four more
in different yarns/gauges
and these (eventually) led to the changes in this revision --
but not before I'd thoroughly tested each one.
(note: these are my clothes you're looking at,
not pattern samples
​ so please pardon their imperfections).

And really, what is not to love
about a lightweight wool  shirt?
Cool when warm, warm when cool,
hypoallergenic, carbon-positive,
renewable, non-stinky, 
and endlessly stretchy without 
the saggy spots of dead lycra --
such a garment is
(unless you are vegan),
a freakin miracle.

Indeed, apparently a bunch of big outdoor companies
have finally figured this out and are using it for lots of stuff.
Wool is the technical fabric of the future!
Who knew?

Well  they they act like they just invented it if they have to,
as long as they keep working with it.

In the meantime,
we can go ahead and make
whatever we want for ourselves.
Because we already know how.
And living as we do
​on the cutting edge of technical achievement,
the right garment has always been a thing. 
Nothing says focus and physical accomplishment
 like weaving, spinning, knitting, reading
​and hanging out with dogs,

But gosh,
for all my messing about
with paper and linen,
I don't need to extoll
the virtues of wool to you.
What I really want to do
is  go on and on
about one of the most important features of this garment
which is that (assuming you are so inclined),
since most of it is knit in stockinette in the round,
the literarily-inclined knitter
can scale the heights
 of two of these massively important activities
at the same time. 

And no commercially made garment
will ever provide a pleasure
to equal that. 

Oh yes --OOPS.
One more thing.
The Pattern for the magic medium pullover 
can be found both on my Ravelry site
and my web store 
depending on your preference.
​
(Alas, the two are not linked, so the choice is up to you
but if you have already downloaded the pattern
from The Palouse Yarn Company site on Ravelry,
​you should, by now, have already received the pattern revision
so need to worry about any of it).

Now, what was I doing?