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).

​When last we left our heroine
she was basting the skirt together,
contemplating waistband options,
casting on another wedge
and gnashing her teeth over closures.

Today we find her blissing out
over drape, texture, comfort, lustre,

and trying to share those qualities
using the tools at hand--

with varying degrees of success 
​(me and photo timers -- not a thing...)

For there HAS been much
to contemplate and decide,
beginning with waistbands.

The first possibly
was a backstrap rigid heddle experiment 
(pictured above)
that I wove a couple of years ago using Kestrel,
​  a knitted linen tube from Quince and Co.
The yarn was lovely to work with 
and the finished band drapy and soft.
It was not what I had wanted back then,
but it had potential as both button and waist band
for this Sarah-Dippity.

On the other hand...
I  still had plenty of the cotton from the skirt,
and at the last weaver's guild meeting
my friend Helen gave a program
on  straps and bands --
and I hadn't made a warp faced band in ages--
so...well... you know how it is.

It turns, alas, out warp faced bands
are not as fun for me as a balanced weave,
(though my weaving cards are still singing a siren song from the drawer).
But I got her done and had some selvedge practice to boot.
Of course I also had to choose between them.

While deciding,
I finished knitting the fourth wedge,
began the final panel sewing (vs basting),
and finally saw that, matching aside,
the older linen band suited the garment best.
This was a satisfying decision
as I was still dithering about closures.
​buttons? zipper? frogs? 
The internet is not always a decision-making friend.

But a local weaver's guild--
there a person will find compatriots
who fully understand
the enormity of these dilemmas.
So at that same (woven band-centric) guild meeting
I just happened to mention my closure angst to Helen
"What about snaps?" she said.

"SNAPS!" I cried. "NO!
Erm --I mean thanks,
good idea,
 but I don't think so.
The knitted part is too fragile.
And what if they came undone?"

"You must lead a very exciting life," she said, lifting an eyebrow.

"It's just that the fabric might catch the corner of something,"
I hedged.
"Maybe a zipper?"
​
Helen didn't reply.
She's very polite that way.
And anyway, she had done her work.

Continuing to chew on the options at home,
I sewed the panels firmly together
(replacing the rough basting),
and by the time that was done 
knew absolutely
that I wanted a zipper.
Definitely.

Except...
it was raining too hard for a bicycle,
and though I could have walked the two miles
to the fabric store in the mall,
it was windy enough to turn my umbrella inside out, 
and my raincoat leaks,
 and I was NOT going to start my car just to get a zipper,
and... and...
darn it.
Better make some Oolong and think.

Filling the kettle, I switched it on.
and decided to have a quick rummage
in the sewing machine drawer
while the water heated.
Who knew?
I might find a cast off zipper
under the spools of purple polyester Woolworth thread
that my ex-husband's Grandmother
used to buy on sale and send to me
when I lived in the wilderness
where, heaven knew,
there were probably no Woolworth stores.
(not sure she understood that there were actually no roads or people either,
or that the brownies she baked sat in Hamilton Montana
for a month or two before anyone brought us our mail,
but that is another story,
and anyway I didn't find a zipper).

What I did find,
waiting quietly in an Altoids tin,
as they had been waiting since about 1985
when I moved from said wilderness
to a teensy shack 
where though I had to carry water uphill in a bucket
there was a roadish kind of thing
that would eventually take me
to a fabric store of sorts,
were.....
​OH SNAPS!
​
​Thanks Helen.
​Those words are just delicious.

Astonishingly (or not)
I also happened upon a bit of linen tape,
hand woven in England and purchased just for me
by my dear friend Rochelle who knows I hate gifts
but always finds the ideal thing to give me anyway
in a form of friend torture for which I love her dearly,
that was perfect
 for reinforcing both knit and woven edges
and ensuring snap stability and security.

Now, however, I no longer needed
the full length of the linen band.
But as I was loathe to cut it,
and it goes twice around my waist,
I'm going with the time-honored
double wrap and safety pin solution.

Here are a few stats:
-400 grams (just under a pound) for the finished skirt
-waist: 31 (ish) inches/78 cm
- hem circumference: 73 (ish) inches/186 cm
-length (including waistband): 31 inches/78 cm
-woven panels (finished) are 8 1/2 inches/22 cm wide
-knit panels: 9 1/2 inches/24cm at the bottom
and taper evenly to 1 inch/2.5 cm at the top.

The skirt is flexible and stretchy.
The knitted sections do intimate that there are black leggings beneath
(at least when stretched out while sitting crossed legged on the floor),
but don't feel remotely immodest 
when outside without leggings
dodging raindrops,
clutching a hot cup of tea,
wondering what on earth to do with two giant willow balls,
and pretending it is perfect weather
to wander around barefoot
in a Summer Sarah-Dippity Skirt
(slightly wrinkled from three days of wear),
on wet green grass
amidst leafless trees
composing really really long sentences,
that hopefully make sense.
Au Revoir.

​Usually it happens in the middle of winter --

But there was a lot of snow this year.
​And it was cold.

So the urge to tromp across field and marsh,
gather willow and red osier dogwood,
fill my studio with multi colored sticks,
and twist, twine and weave them into something,
didn't show up until a few days ago. 
(same link as above--an old blog post about willow projects over the years,
so no need to click it twice)

Funny how such ideas appear--
the sudden irresistible need
​ to make a thing
I hadn't even imagined
ten seconds before.

Does this ever happen to you? 

and I had to do my part.

As often happens with such projects, 
I had/have no idea how to weave an orb. 

so I made something up.

The willow wands and grape vines
were long and satisfyingly resilient.
The Pear shoots not so much,
but they are pretty,
and since Ana was cutting them, 
it was less trouble to weave with them
than to put them in a pile.

 I ended up making two
largish, round(ish) objects.

An heir and a spare for the flamingo, perhaps?

Guess, I'm done for now, though.

Except, perhaps,
for taking another stab
at removing the grass stains
from the knees of my pants.
​
​Or not.

Please disregard the dubious expression on my face,
because I'm having a great time
with this garment.

Amidst the shoveling of February,
I got to make samples:
-hand spun linen,
-hand spun wool (for linsey woolsey),
-mill spun linen,
-walnut dyed (but not hand spun) cotton,
--a commercial blend of cotton, linen, nettle and silk,

There are so many variables.
In the photo above,
I'm re-sleying the rigid heddle,
moving from a 12 to a 15 dent.
(Both ends of the cloth are lovely and astonishingly different)

My favorite samples
are the 100% hand spun linen
and hand spun linesey-woolsey,
but I haven't yet spun enough fine linen  
so I decided to keep building working on that
while beginning on this first non-wool skirt:
--a combination of the walnut dyed cotton 
and Nettle Grove (cotton, linen, nettle and silk).
I chose this last  in part because of the name,
(though of course there is hardly any actual nettle fiber in it),
in part because there it was at the Yarn Underground (my LYS),
and mostly because it is pleasant to knit with --
and essential feature of Sarah-Dippity  skirt materials.

Using the basic warping technique
 from Backstrap Dialogues
I wound my longest  Backstrap warp yet (four+ yards)
threaded the 15 dent rigid heddle,
plunked my butt on the floor,
​and started weaving.

this part went way too fast. 

All too soon, it was done.

Of course then I got to wash and press it,
drape it against my legs,
​and get all excited about actually putting it on.
But first
​ --three wedges to knit 
(a couple of weeks of evening reading time),

--a rough layout to test my calculations,

--a more careful layout to test the actual fit

-- some time devoted to the question
of whether the knitted wedges
should go over or under the woven panels
(I chose under),

-- careful (but rough), basting 
--and finally, yesterday afternoon,
trying it on (see the beginning of this post),
at which point I learned that I do, indeed,
need to knit a fourth wedge.

More, then to come in future blog posts:
-the Great Closure Debate
(buttons? zipper? snaps?)
-The Waistband
(I think this skirt might want one,
but do I want to weave it
and if so,
how?)
and 
-Final Fitting
Oh, the DRAMA.

Until then, here are 
a few amazing  Sarah-Dippity links:

-Jaya on Instagram
-Peg on her Blog
-An entire Ravelry Thread
-#sarahdippityskirt
(a hash tag  I hope any of you making skirts and on instagram, will use)
​What else? Do let me know.
Thanks everyone!

Does anyone else get a thrill
when an idea that seems fixed
is suddenly turned on its head?
This happened to me just a few weeks ago
and I'm beside myself with delight.

I've been writing about PVC Pipe looms
since about 2003
when I first began to work 
​on my book Kids Weaving.
There, we used these looms
to weave inkle shoelaces, blankets,
scarves, bags, a ​tapestry dog collar,
​ and even knotted pile.

It's not a perfect loom by any stretch,
but it does have some serious advantages:
-- simple to make with readily available hardware store materials.
--easy to assemble (and disassemble),
--an adaptable design, 
-- inexpensive (esp compared with almost any other loom on the market)
--homely (everything you weave will look better than your loom)
--portable (you can weave almost anywhere)

I've blogged about them several times:
-October 2015: PVC Pipe Loom
-January 2016: Four Selvedge Tutorial
-February 2016: Long Warp/ Short Loom (continuous warping)

They are also an important component of Fringeless,
(the Four Selvedge class with Rebecca Mezoff),
and I use them regularly in my work.

For all these years though,
and in all these places, 
I've put the floating tension bar
at the bottom of the loom.
Then Judy Smith, 
who chose to build a PVC loom for the Fringeless Class,
put her tension bar at the TOP!
Judy shared a photo on the Fringeless private facebook group
and though I am not on facebook,
Rebecca thought I should see the fabulous work Judy had done.
She (Rebecca), thought she was showing me tapestry,
little knowing that I would get double the pleasure
when I also caught a glimpse
of the configuration of Judy's loom.

Of course I promptly had to try it --
and the reality was even better than I imagined.

The main difference is in the ease of set-up,
as the floating bar does not have to be
held in position with tape
while the warp is put on
(as shown in the third drawing at the top of this post).
It simply hangs in position
while the warp is wound on.

​Another advantage is that
 the weaving area is several inches lower 
so considerably easier on a weaver's back.
​
Also, the tension straps are out of the way
​leaving more room to work.

Alas, I don't have a photo of Judy's Loom and Tapestry
but happily Judy gave me permission to share her thoughts,
and here is what she has to say:
Love my pvc loom. I think I set it up that way because I was used to the top bar being tensioned when I did Navajo style weaving. A little more about that loom: most of the loom is made of the heavier pvc (#40 something) 1” size. It is all lined with the thickest wooden dowels that will fit inside in an effort to prevent bending. The “tension bar” is a 1 1/4” dowel. That will not bend. That bar just happened to fit into a slightly different pvc (must have been 1 1/4”) that both held the sturdy wooden bar and slid on the 1” pvc side bars. 
Love the fringeless technique. Being used to Navajo weaving, I hated dealing with fringe when a piece was finished. If weaving an actual rug (really going to put it on the floor), then I would want the toughness of the Navajo edges. But for all else- I sure love the fringeless.

Wow, Judy --
this is so helpful, both to me
and to anyone else who might want to try a PVC Loom.
Though I, too, have reinforced the PVC with interior dowels,
it is not a thing I've done for a while
and I appreciate the reminder. 
As for the position of the tension bar --
the idea is so wonderful and obvious that I feel a bit dense
for never having thought of it in all these years,
and can't thank you enough
for your vision
and for blowing my mind.
​Sharing ideas is just the BEST.

​One of these fine days I might get it together
to draw an instruction booklet 
on ways to warp this loom,
but for now, the links above will have to do.
Kids Weaving, though now out of print,
is also still a great source of information--
copies can be found at close to the original price.
And now we have Judy's idea 
that I get to add to the PVC Loom canon
and share here, with you. 

So now that I've waxed nostalgic
from looking at Kids Weaving
and thinking of the grand time we had
making stuff on those looms,
 I'll close with this photo
 taken in the late 1990s by Jodi Gear
(of the Pigment-dyed coffee filters I wrote about last week).

It feels astonishing to me
that I  still have the dress (if not the hair),
am still making yarn to weave with,
and happily,
still have a thing or two
or ten
​ to learn
​about all of it.