a winter weavers window

This winter, there are attempts being made to achieve the goal of weaving with my handspun linen. Samples have been woven on a 4 harness table top loom that sits in a somewhat south/west facing window. The light is at its best in the mid to late afternoon, and the room is situated on the second floor, above the woodstove. The cabin has the old "gravity feed" vents in the floor, and the warmth radiates upwards. It is a pleasent place to be during these very cold days.



From my vantage point, I see the slope of the snow covered road.



If I look through the trees, I can see the river winding its way through the valley.



There is the old maple that has been severely trimmed this past fall. It holds a bird feeder, and late in the day, the turkeys come down off the mountain to eat the seeds that the smaller birds have dropped. Turkeys are normally very shy, and it is hard to get close to them. They do not notice me looking down on them from above. It is remarkable how much their behavior is like the chickens we keep. Or maybe it is the other way around.



The warp that I have dressed the loom with, is made from commercially spun cotton. Pulling one or more strands through the dent will allow me to decide what sett I will use for the final piece. I used a handmade mini-triangle loom for a raddle, but I'm not so sure it was the best idea.



The heddles are threaded for plain or tabby weave. I must remember to take notes about what I think works well, and what does not. Surprisingly, the weave structure that happened due to a threading error, is a favorite. I am learning and enjoying the process.



My inspiration comes from these towels (shown above), work of my Grandmother's and Great Grandmother's.



As you can see, there is still much for me to learn. The weft for the samples is my handspun linen singles. The singles were spun with Z twist.



Next, I plan to try the handspun hemp singles for warp. I don't mind telling you that I feel a bit daunted by the idea.

almost

The first frost has yet to arrive. The last of the summer sun is savored.



Short walks and long shadows.



Ghost bugs are there, and then not.



Green peppers change to orange.



and beans to seed.



Potatoes are dug and moved from one underground storage to another.



...black walnuts, generously given by a friend, await the hammer.



the rafter of turkeys grow larger by the days.



and september projects are finished in october.



it is time for bonfires and almost the beginning of november!

weftember weaving

The garden harvest has been getting ahead of me. Every third day I pick and for the next two days, I pack or process. There isn't much time for fun things like spinning or weaving. Moments are snatched.



Usually, those moments come in the morning. This happens, mostly, because I have been waking before the sun is up. We have been having chilly mornings, filled with fog. I make a small pot of coffee, and reach for the distaff and spindle. There is a purpose, a plan, to spin enough linen to weave some cloth.

While at the Endless Mountains Fiber Festival, I picked up some Hemp Sliver in a sort of roving type package. I was told it was imported from Romania. It spins up very well, and I've been amazed at how very much it resembles some of the better flax that I've spun.



Can you tell which spindle holds the spun hemp?



This image shows linen and hemp singles, side by side on the nod. It is difficult to tell the difference.



After finishing these singles will take a trip to the warping board (gulp).



And weaving on the Double Hole Tape Loom has filled some moments in the afternoon. Grace has added some wonderful handmade 4 and 6 inch maple shuttles to the Etsy shop!

linen on the line

There has been some tape weaving happening. I used the Double Hole Rigid Heddle Tape Loom and wove a plain weave, so I only warped one row of holes.



Last night, January's Full Wolf Moon had a frosty halo around it. The snow it predicted, happened overnight and early this morning.

My handspun/handwoven linen tapes had been set to hang on the clothesline early in the evening..and they caught the moonlight that danced and glittered over the frozen warp and weft.



I finished one tape early last week, and it had been hanging out there for a few days before the second was complete.



If you look close, you can see that one tape is already lighter than the other. I will leave them on the line for a few days. They will soften with help from the freeze and thaw of the tempertures, and they will lighten with help from the sun and the moon.



Other projects are in the works, there are clay beads for spindles gathering together in a bowl. I'm inspired by the small weights-the small clay bead shapes-and the colorful shafts that I see on the Ancient Chancay Spindles.



I won't show you the fresh white snow that falling outside the window, rather, this bold red Amryllis that blooms inside the window!

in preparation

Roc Day is upon us again!



My Almanac states that today is Twelfth Day....

"At Twelfth Day (Jan. 6) the days are lengthened a cock-stride."



The garden is sleeping.

But in the bud, there is a spring that waits to be.

"As the day lengthens, the cold strengthens."

In preparation for tomorrow, Roc Day (St. Distaves Day), I'm clearing the bobbins. And preparing for the icy weather that is predicted.



I look forward to opening up the flax and dressing the distaff!



and to weaving with linen!

Happy Roc Day! Celebrate the Distaff!

moonbeams on my linen

I've been wanting to experiment with moonlight bleaching of linen, ever since I first heard about it. Finally, this winter, I decided to give it a try.

I had a few pieces of linen tape, leftover from a practice project that was woven on my Double Hole Tape Loom. It is perfect for my experiment because it has a handspun linen background with the pattern in red silk embroidery threads. The idea behind the moonlight bleaching, as I was told, is to whiten the linen but not fade the color of the embroidery threads. When I first heard about this, it was something I was told, my great grandmother would have done, in her homeland of Austria/Hungary. Believing that the sun rays were destructive to linens, the women spread them on bushes . In mansions and castles, racks were made for this purpose. I suspect the custom was practiced in other places around the globe as well.

So, my experiment began in January, I wet my linen tape, and hung it on the clothes line. Not very scientific, I know. And I'm not nearly as good at taking notes of my results as Wendy (my ravelry friend and cohort in lunar lightening- from Canada- who is also experimenting with moonlight bleaching). And I do confess, that there were a few days that my sample was exposed to sunlight as well (OK, so I forgot it was out there a few times, life gets busy, and moonlight experiments are not first priority).

After the last full moon, I realized that the handle of the tape had changed considerably. The linen was no longer stiff, but soft and pliable. At first glace, it did not appear to have changed much, but when placed alongside of the other sample, I belive it has started to whiten! It shined! It glistened! It captured that silvery essence from the magic of the moonbeams! What do you think? Can you see a difference? Which tape looks lighter? Left? Right?

Looking for written material or documentation on moonbeam bleaching is hard to come by. There is very little information available. In present day book form, Linda Heinrich in her book (The Magic of Linen…) has a reference taken from “Krajina Textiles” Slovene Textiles, CIBA Review (1966/1):19 by B. Bela Racic.... and writes that‘bleaching by the light of the moon was an old Slav custom. And Bette Hochberg's "Spin Span Spun" also notes bleaching by sun and moon.

Thanks to GoogleBooks, I found a few references. And while there were no books or documents written specifically on the subject, there is mention of the practice contained in books on other topics. Now, finding exact methods...or written instruction on the how's and where's and why's of the process, that is more challenging! I did find a notation about Linen Manufactures of England sending their finished linens to Holland for bleaching ("as the dews and moonlight are there more constant").

My favorite reference is found a book written in 1836, by Robert Mudie (also the author of "the British Naturalist". Robert wrote this book with the title :" A Popular Guide to the observation of Nature". I enjoy the way he writes and the observations he makes on a number of different topics. Here is how he explains that moonlight is really sunlight:

"Now our moonlight really comes from the sun, and is reflected to us form the surface of the mmon, just as we can throw light in a dark room by a mirror, or by whitewashing a wall opposite the door on which light can fall. Now the heat of the sun's light, and also the greater part of the red rays, enter into and are absorbed by the moon : and thus moonlight wants the golden brightness of the direct rays of the sun, and is in consequence silvery, and has a little of a bluish tint in it."

And here, (about 2/3rd down the page) he makes note about the practice of moonlight bleaching:

And here, he explains why the moonlight is stronger in winter:

I will continue to experiment with the moonbeams on linen...there is another full moon in February, yet to come, around the 25th. There is a good chance there will still be a frost. The full moon in February is sometimes call the Snow Moon, or Hunger Moon. With winter storm Nemo about to pay us a visit, snow may still be on the ground by the 25th.

In preparation for more experiments, I am weaving more tape.

Three more tapes have been woven with my handspun linen for my current project. These will be sewn together. I'm learning a lot about how my handspun behaves as linen tape. There are areas where I have a bit of open weave, that I'm not sure about why that is happening. Is it due to my tension on the tape as I weave, or is it with the handspun variations in the thread itself? I'm using my handspun singles to sew the tapes together.

On the first try, it soon became apparent that if I intended to use a single to sew with, I should pay close attention to the direction of the twist. I'm using a back-stitch to sew the tapes together, and if the wrong end of the single enters the eye of the needle, I wind up going against the twist and the linen thread soon begins to pull apart.

curious customs

January mornings have been mostly gray, with little bits of sunshine. The big oak looks like an etching or a pen & ink drawing in the sky. The buds on the branches of the big oak are waiting. Spring will come. All in good time, I tell myself. Besides, I've yet to place my seed order ...there is a forecast for an icy mix. And I've been spinning flax to linen.

When the sun shines in through my kitchen window, I reach for my sitting distaff. I spin on the spindle. I wrote an article for the Spinning Wheel Sleuth about my Guzaly..and it was published in the recent issue.

The spindle (that came with the distaff) has two whorls. I keep both of the whorls on when I begin spinning. The extra weight is helpful. As I fill the spindle, and the weight is no longer needed, I take one of the whorls off. Look at these beautiful lines, left by the maker.

I have been reading about different folklore customs..... tales that have to do with spindles and spinning. Some of the lore is interesting. ...and sets me thinking about the origins...the where and how and why these customs, traditions and stories started out...

...for instance..one of the customs involves putting a spindle in the cradle of an unborn child for which a girl is desired. If a boy is wished for, onions would take the place of a spindle. hum. why onions?

I wonder.

I also read about a ceremony that would take place for a new home. The new owners would throw a ball of yarn through the doorway and into the house. Then, the oldest member of the household would cross the threshold, holding onto the "guiding thread". This would insure good fortune and happiness in the new dwelling.

Some of the customs involve tying herbs and bells upon your distaff. So ...of course...I saw fit to play along.