Flinging my body through the sky
from one side of this continent
​to the other,
is not a thing I enjoy. 

 Along with despair at its environmental aggression,
air travel induces in me
a kind of foggy spiritual disconnect--
as though, while my sleep deprived body
is slurping Dunkin Donuts coffee in Boston,
my self  is scrambling across eastern Montana
crying, "WAIT FOR MEEEEEEE,"
only to begin the long trudge back to Idaho
(without even catching a glimpse of the Dakotas),
when my disconnected carcass
is suddenly
 dumped back home.

As a weird wort of compensation however,
or perhaps a way to place myself,
travel does induce a kind of intent noticing
that can help remind me
that I once was whole --
​and will be again.

The richness of my mother's
chair-side table for instance,
is a source of such joy,
with its books, computer,
seed and course catalogues,
pencils, pads, newspaper articles
and (because I was there and she's a supportive Mum),
​her evolving Somewhat Slanted Sweater.

It was also a delight to feel
the sense of comfort and belonging
induced (at least in my heart and hands)
by tiny, yarn-filled rooms,
and the welcoming enthusiasm of Lily, 
at Norwich Knits,
the new yarn shop in Norwich, Vermont
where we bought my mother's yarn.

Nor, indeed, could I fail to notice
the beatific inner glow 
induced by a blissed out tour
of the Green Mountain Spinnery
in Putney, Vermont,
where I got to watch (and hear)
some of ​their venerable machinery in action.

The walls of yarn were fabulous too.
And oh....
the smell...
of lanolin and sheep
and yarn in the raw.

I also noticed (with surprise), 
how the wool/organic cotton
skeins grabbed my attention. 
It's not a blend I am likely to create or spin myself,
but I hadn't yet knit a Somewhat Slanted 
in this weight yarn, and I look forward to wearing it.
So far, I know that it is really nice to knit,
the drape of the first square is fantastic
and that there is enough wool in the blend
to easily spit-splice when joining skeins
or knitting stripes.
(Hard, later, not to be aware that my minimalist travel bag
was significantly more difficult to buckle up).

Noticing these morels 
was an unexpected
​and delicious treat.

Somewhat less beguiling
was noticing the ticks sneaking up my legs
after the woodsy walk wherein the morels appeared,
though I was able to note--
with something approaching pleasure--
that my white hemp pants
made the little blood suckers
easy to spot. 

Also, all the things I chose to bring with me
were blue, grey, brown or white,
so mixed and matched very well.
They are also all extremely comfortable,
perfectly practical (white hemp aside),
sources of psychological well being.
and almost entirely hand made.

The photos above include:
the aforementioned hemp pants,
my recently made linen shirt,
(which I tried not to wear every single day),
and an old favorite ankle-length blue cotton skirt,
that my friend Lodi once gave me 
 after she'd cut out the pattern pieces,
but before  sewing.

The blue sweater ( knit last summer 
and dunked in indigo a few days before my trip),
and the indigo Sarah-Dippity 
had all the comfort, stretch, practicality
and general travel clothing perfection
I could have desired.
I also love how the indigo in both my garments connects
with the blue on the pocket of my sister Lyn's
 patched and embroidered jacket
as we try to remember a long-ago clapping pattern
before I catch the bus to Boston.

Noticing Mount Rainier
was a nice reminder 
that I was about to land in Seattle,
though I fervently hope my
long term views

 closer to the ground:
a steady supply of
linsey-woolsey on the loom,
patched pants,

and tapestry --
wool, flax, coptic, and/or  four selvedge --
​will be just fine.

In the meantime,
the mug of mint/lemon balm tea
​ is quietly cooling
and the fog beginning to clear.

So i’m in new Hampshire,
knitting with coffee filters.

You know how it goes.
A gal is visiting family
and the conversations turns
​to making yarn out of trash--
as it does--

and your enthusiastic mother
jumps up to fish a couple of
used filters from the compost bin,
rinses them off and sets them to dry
so that when you return from visiting a beloved cousin,
​you can do a little spinning
​and she--your lovely mum--
can take photos of the process.

These large round Chemex (sp?) filters
were new to me,
so of course
it was extra interesting.

(I’ve written blog posts about spinning coffee filters but for some reason I can’t specifically link them while writing this on the road and in the weebly app so alas, you’ll have search a little to find them if interseted).

Then it turned out that a few
of the many wonderful people
​who have started Somewhat Slanted
weren’t familiar with beginning a row
with a YO (Yarn Over),
so yesterday I plied the yarn
and took some photos on the back steps
to (hopefully), make it more clear.

(Please forgive all out of focus moments
as I was using my big toe to click the button
while my hands were occupied).

So here goes:
​Yarn Over Increase starting from a single stitch:

1. make a slip knot and put it on the left needle.

2. Bring the Yarn Over the right needle
(or, as my mother says, bring the Needle Under the yarn)

3. Insert needle into the slip knot/ loop as usual

4. Wrap yarn

5. Complete Stitch
​ — you now have two stitches

6. Switch hands and repeat steps 2 - 5:

-Yarn Over
-insert needle
-wrap yarn
-complete stitch

Continue as per the
Somewhat Slanted Guide
until it is time to decrease,
by which time the YO thing
​should be easy as pie.

The other issue that has come up with Somewhat Slanted
has to do with making color changes with the stripes.
This is not, alas, a thing I can do with coffee filter yarn
(surprisingly pleasant though it is to knit with),
as I only have one color just now.
Also, coffee filter yarn doesn’t felt,
and I used a Spit Splice (aka Felted Join)
which requires wool or a wool blend (not superwash).
I may eventually do some drawings about the splice
but hopefully the Interweave link above will work for you.
Or just Google Spit Splice
and you’ll find all kinds of info.

Though I haven’t yet done stripes with cotton,
I imagine it would work
to tie the two colors together at the edge leaving long tails,
knit along as though they were spliced
then later untie the knots and weave in the ends to
form the YO loops.

But that is just theory right now.
Anyone tried it? Be great to know.

Also — has anyone knit more than a little square
with the coffee filter yarn?
It’s weirdly nice.
I might mess around with this little square
and see how it holds up.
Who knows?
​Who EVER knows?

A few months ago
my aunt had her hip replaced.
Happily, all went well
and she is once again
meandering in the woods with her dog.

Though totally surprised 
(I'm kind of weird about gifts),
I  was nonetheless thrilled
and knew exactly
what I was going to do.
The wall devoted to 
Harrisville Hydro Turbine
had caught my eye last winter
when I bought the yarn
​ for the Long Sarah-Dippity,
and for all my hand spinning ways,
I know yummy yarn when I see it.

No matter that bulky yarn season
should have been ending right around then --
these round and airy skeins
​seemed destined to become a heftier version 
of the  Summer Six Pack Sweater--
 a comfortable and versatile favorite for the last three years.

How fluffy Turbine yarn
would behave within the bias structure
remained to be seen--
​certainly it would be quite different 
than​ the collection of hand spun odds and ends
that made up the earlier striped garment.
And the not knowing made it extra compelling.

Luckily this sweater does not need
a gauge swatch before starting,
so I could cast on for the actual sweater
the moment I got home from the yarn store,
and start finding out.

 When I first blogged about The Six Pack Sweater
several people asked for a pattern
(or at least some kind of guide
 beyond  the vague thing I wrote on the post),
but somehow it didn't happen--
at least back then.
This spring, however,
​the versatility of the idea,
gave me the extra impetus to start drawing.

Alas, it is one thing knit
and design as you go,
and quite another to write a helpful guide
that other people can use
to knit a garment they love,
​ in the size of their choice,
with yarn they have, or want to try,
at  whatever gauge makes both yarn and knitter happy.
​
So it has taken me longer than I thought.

Plus ... ah...
​ I have been spinning
the odd yard of flax.

Today, however,
​I am now thrilled to announce that
A Sweater -- Somewhat Slanted
is now available in the store
as a PDF download.

Like my other zines and PDFs 
this is a guide booklet
for creating your own adventure
(not a pre-calculated set of instructions).
This means that 
some straightforward math
​ (formulas provided),
is part of the thrill.
Aren't you excited?

Somehow, I kind of think you actually are.
There is just so much pleasure
in making decisions--
even hard ones--
when it mean we will end up
with a personal and magical garment
we will actually wear and use.
(And somehow, I don't think armhole depth
will be the biggest decision you'll ever make).

If you give it a try,
will you let me know how it goes?

So there I was, 
happily weaving along,
 ​minding my selvedges,

thinking about the interlacement
of linen, wool and plain weave
through the millennia,
​when I remembered this book.

so you might imagine my delight
when I suddenly realized--
wait-- I'm making cloth for clothing
and I can work tapestry into this cloth
RIGHT ​NOW!

As I think I mentioned last week,
historic Linsey-Woolsey
usually seems to be wool weft on a linen warp,
and the the same holds true 
for  late 3rd to mid 7th Century Coptic Tapestry
(which makes sense  given ease of dyeing wool for imagery
and a centuries old tradition of growing flax for clothing.).

Since my cloth had a wool warp and linen weft however,
I decided to do the tapestry part backwards too --
weaving a weft faced linen ground 
with little woolen squares
(using the same yarn as the warp).

Those of you who have read Backstrap Dialogues
are already familiar with the endless disagreements
between my inner Luminist and Storymaker--
so while they are fighting over aesthetics
 I will just mention that technically,
this first stab at tabby/tapestry
​was both a delight
​ and a pain in the butt. 

There are issues of tension,
shrinkage, sett,
connection with
(and the simultaneous weaving of)
the tabby areas on the sides,
all of which I want to mess about with
​in future experiments,

but overall I'm thrilled --
both with the addition of tapestry
and with the cloth itself which,
now that it is off the loom and washed,
(by hand as for wool, with extra agitation for fulling)
I find to be crisp, light, fluid
and even a little glittery.

The tapestry section is smooth and weighty
in an intriguing and satisfying way.
Nothing odd or 'unbelonging' feeling about it.
I will probably sew the slits
before beginning the actual garment --
and of course that can't happen
until I've completed 
the next swathe --
linen warp/wool weft
with whatever touch of sartorial tapestry
​ Luminist and Storymaker decide upon--
and designed whatever it is I'm going to make.

Two final thoughts --
1. Linsey Woolsey has a long rocky history
from breeds of sheep, to the use and abuse of power,
from linen processing in Coptic Egypt
to ramifications of the British Wool Act of 1699,
from The Fibershed  movement
to the enforced spinning and weaving of slave clothing--
as I was reminded by Mary Madison in last week's comments.
It is a history at once painful, fascinating and full of possibility--
 worthy of serious inquiry on many levels.
As usual I've no idea where it all is going for me,
but as you can see,
I'm on the path,
spindle in hand.
and thank you kindly
​ for your company.

2. Switching Newsletter providers last week seemed to go well,
though a few people reported
that their newsletter went into Spam
because it came from Sarah C Swett
instead of A Field Guide To Needlework.
I have now changed that and hope it works better.  
Thank you again for your support and patience!

Yesterday was wonderful.

Honestly, the prototype shirt  
I talked about last week
is just so satisfying and comfortable
I couldn't wait another minute.

Anyway, I really like to warp--
​for tapestry or plain cloth.

What's not to love
about strand after strand
undulating through a pair of lease sticks?​

My earlier linseny-woolsey samples
had both wool and linen in the warp.
The cloth is lovely
but warping was a total pain
so for this first swathe of actual yardage
 I'm using 2 ply wool as warp
and singles linen as weft.

​Historic linsey-woolsey 
apparently used linen warp and wool weft,
​and maybe I'll try that next time.

It is also amazing
to run smack into my fixed ideas--
whatever they may be
though in this case
that garment sewing
is all about subtracting shapes
from someone else's idea
of how wide cloth can be made--
and suddenly see
that those ideas
are but illusions
 I can stroll right through.

There is more exploring to do
along these lines
--building garments in an additive,
minimal-waste way--
and I'm definitely planning to do some,
even as, for the moment,
I'll keep geeking out
on the pleasure of using paper purns
and this old boat shuttle
to slip shots of flax
across the open shed.

Speaking of geeking out --
I just moved my newsletter host 
from Mailchimp, where it has been for the last few years
to Weebly, the outfit within which I have this website and blog.
There were myriad reasons for this,
​and the odd hassle,
but all I can say for the moment is -- it's done.

Do you ever lie in bed at night,
thinking about an idea --

​trying to imagine--
and then solve--
 every issue that might arise
when you actually start
​bringing it into the physical world?​

I have also been designing
the mythical garment
the cloth will become--
and growing wildly curious
about construction possibilites.

Every piece has selvedges,
which means overlapping seams
with minimal bulk
and the particular drape that results--
a thing  I hope to make a feature
of my mythical linsey woolsey garment,
and is definitely based
​on all I've learned
from the design of the Sarah-Dippity.
Indeed, that series of skirts
has given me quite a taste
for this business of
​additive clothing construction. 

Use the shapes you have,
and/ or 
make the shapes you need
then put them together,
 take them apart
and baste again
in a different way
until things are right.
​
Basting, indeed, is my new best friend. 
Great big stitches
make it possible to try things on,
even as they are easy to whip out 
when a new (and vastly improved)
idea for sleeve and underarm construction
arises in the middle of the night.

It's been a slow process
over the last few weeks--
filled with delight, frustration
and unexpectedly visceral
textile pleasure.

Indeed those scraps of cloth
​have provided such delight 
that the wee tapestry pocket
might even be too much.

Time will tell, I suppose.
As, indeed
I hope it eventually lets me know
if this shirt wants a nice tidy hem --
​or not.

All I know for sure right now
is that this garment-in-progress
is fantastically comfortable.

​

Nothing momentous this week--

rather, a motley collection of moments
that has somehow seemed worth noticing:

--Lovely tunes at an annual outdoor Renaissance Fair,
the straw-bale seating much improved
by the purse spindle in my hands
(9 gram Jenkins Kuchulu)
and the new Brandi hat to replace the one
that fell out of my pocket after years of faithful service
keeping my ears warm and the rain off my glasses. 

--A mis-matched collection
of  backstrap experiments

--The Sides-to-Middle sheet,
apparently enjoying its extended life
as much as I have been

-Two coyotes crossing the path
(not together, but both heading south --following the mice?)
and then a black cat we thought (pretended), was a panther. 

--Also, drawing some instructions
(hopefully something I can share before too long)

--Beverages with Rochelle,
are always magical
even when the thing I most like
about fancy cocktails
is drawing them.

--That moment after lunch,
when I can get a little work done
​without moving from the spot in the sun
​outside the woodshed.

--Oh yes,
and deciding on the 20 gram yellow Hepty,
for the spin-and-knit-as-I-go Summer Sweater.
For some odd reason​
though the spindle is four grams lighter than the wooden one,
the finished chain-plied yarn is a hair thicker
(2700 yards/lb vs 2900yards/lb)
and thus slightly easier to knit.
Also, the spindle shaft is longer on the yellow one,
so it holds more.

--More laundry today
but I haven't drawn it yet
(and anyway you're probably less excited than I am
about sketches of our undies
hanging in the sun),
so I'll leave you here--
messing around,
barefoot in the mud.

It seemed simple enough when I began:
a big spinning project completed last week
means it is time for the next idea in the queue, right? 

And the last 1 .5 lbs of this Targhee/Deboullet fleece​
has been very patient,
and was totally ready.

Indeed, despite having sat for two years post scouring,
the locks were clean and lovely--
still easy to tease and card into silky batts .
The goal is a spring/ summer
 spin-and-knit-as-I-go portable project
and I wanted to get both parts going
so I can pick up either part
at a moment's notice
without much thought. 

(Yes, I know it is sensible to spin all the yarn 
​and mix up the skeins before plying,
or at least before casting on,
but who can be sensible
when  one's fingers absolutely ache
for this fresh fluffy, fine yarn,
especially since the spinning portion
of other recent projects in progress
​ actually did need to be complete
before I could commence the next phase?)

BUT, ​which spindle is the one for the job:

--my reliable, superfast 24 gram cherry Hepty,
whose steadfast nature
has, over the last three years+,
been the tool of choice for several sweaters
and enough yarn for a couple of good sized
but as yet to be designed swaths of backstrap cloth
or
--the cheerful, fast and balanced but mostly untested
20 gram blue and yellow Hepty
that my son 3-D printed as an experiment
for wet-spinning flax 
and is just as happy with wool?
(the shaft is painted wood, the whorl 3-D printed --
and no production of these is planned, fyi...)

They both make me happy.
And so does working with one tool at a time,
​especially for a portable project.

Why, then, was I simultaneously so susceptible
to this glorious strick of Belgian flax 
singing sweet songs from the cabinet
where it had been waiting for months?
Well.... cuz... um....
​I'm susceptible to wooing?

There is actually a super cool story about this strick
 connected with my search for local flax
(short of me growing my own-- another future project),
and the heart-stoppingly exciting work being done in Oregon
by the women of  Fibreevolution.
No room today for the whole surprising tale,
except that I feel most fortunate to have this strick in my hands,
and am thoroughly enjoying turning it into yarn,
especially with an appropriate spindle.

Not that I'm great at it or anything,
but it is good to slow down and develop a rhythm,
since, in my flaxen eagerness last year
I got ahead of myself,
and found, among other things,
​ that the blue and yellow Hepty
is far too fast
for the yarn I'm able to make
with my slowly emerging skills--
and perhaps too fast for flax at all
as the long fibers do not need the kind of twist
demanded by the fine wool yarn I love to make
and that my hands think spinning is all all about. 

Luckily, practice is a thing,
as is really nice fiber
and a slow-and-steady
long-armed, lightweight spindle--
even if it's not water resistant.
(this Jenkins Spindle is a 17 gram Lark
now discontinued but perhaps similar to the Wren?)

Good thing wool and flax
use slightly different hand and finger muscles
and switching back and forth
actually gives my hands a break.

Except, you know,
just because my hands know when they need a break 
doesn't mean my brain does
and my friend Jodi had sent me
another batch of coffee filters,
many of them a weirdly enticing light brown
and I was curious... so...
Another 3-D printed wet spinning spindle
was the tool of choice this time
(coffee filters, in my experience, are best spun damp),
and I had a swell time cutting and adding twist.
This 10 gram cross-arm spindle,
also a slightly too speedy flax spinning contender,
turned out to be ideal, both in weight and speed, for the filter paper,
and a worthy and portable alternative to 
on the slow charkha
I talked about in the post linked above.

 (Note: Public domain code is available for these spindles;
 it can be found with a little googling and printed by someone in your area who knows how to do such things --
​local library/maker space/ etc).

So -- um-- that was yesterday.

Happily, last week's lessons are still with me,
at least mostly,
and ​having learned what those brown 
bits of paper look like spun into yarn,
 I returned the coffee filters to the cabinet,
moved the associated tapestry idea
to ferment at the back of the cue,
​and returned to the pleasures at hand--

which might actually,
eventually,
if I don't get distracted again,
join the completed skeins of wool
to become the linsey-woolsey cloth
I've been longing to wear.
​
​Stay tuned.

You never know what is going to happen
 on a trip to our cabin. 
Sometimes the Glacier Lilies are blooming,
and all is peace and birdsong and rattlesnakes.

And a big pile of possibility
always seems a good idea when I'm at home
where distractions are everywhere.

Those of you who got last week's newsletter
might remember that I do try to limit myself,
for experience has taught me
that too many choices 
actually makes makes it harder
to settle in.

Because it turned out
that what I really needed
was to wander around in my muck boots
​between rain storms

How could I possibly forget

how easily I am amused?

Artistic turmoil --what a thing.

I mean there I was, 
longing to wear my new skirt,
when I was derailed by a hand full of dead leaves.

It seemed to be a thing I HAD to do--
 yet it bugged me even as I worked on it.

The materials were a delight to be sure--
I mean what's not to love
about dead leaves
and used coffee filters?

​And it was great fun to  shift back and forth
between a sett of 4 and 8.
But the tapestry itself didn't satisfy--
indeed, once I got beyond a certain point,
every photo I took was out of focus.

But perhaps the whole idea
was out of focus --
more of an itch I had to scratch
than a compelling path.
​I don't know.

Ideally, if I can bring myself to pay attention
to the way different aspects
of the process
and the thing
make me feel, 
(rather than just tossing idea, object and regret
straight into the compost pile,
pretending they never existed
and moving on),
such projects are sometimes more valuable
than those that make me sigh with satisfaction,

2. It would have been better had I included
the tiny house I refused to weave
(you've no idea how hard it is to NOT weave a tiny house
​but I was trying -- well, just that.)

Audible Sigh
​(of satisfaction).