festival nostalgia

I don't know how other people feel, but I find that the intense, short, and wonderful experiences I have at a fiber festival --any fiber festival--remain with me for several days or weeks after the event. In fact, it reminds me a lot of summer camp. At summer camp, everything is intense, short and sometimes bittersweet, too.

I mean, it was cold and wet last weekend. I didn't actually feel tiptop and I was sort of worried to leave 2 different sets of house guests to fend for themselves. However, that didn't stop me from having a great time at the spinning circle after I taught my class. On the left here is a candid shot of a bunch of us spinning. At any one time, there were 3 or 4 of us, and we created a "floor" in the dirt of the barn with an old sheet. I met some readers of my blog, some fascinated onlookers, and some shepherds who came by just to visit. The ladies nearby at the next table were selling pie. How could I have had better neighborly company than that?

While this was happening, my professor shot photos of possibly the cutest border collie puppy ever (see that photo?) and he spent time watching the show ring. He also met an entertaining kid who showed him all his digital photos and discussed bugs with him...never a dull moment for a biologist! The 4H sheep show part of this event was well organized. I was surprised to see how they numbered the sheep (on their rear ends) and that was definitely different than the arrangements I'd seen at the U.S. festivals.

I made connections with people I'd met on Ravelry or emailed with, and I admired some of the (few) fleeces that were entered into the wool competition. Sheep producers gave me their contact information. This week, since coming home, I've contacted 3 different Manitoba sheep producers. I'm expecting (at minimum...), 2 Cotswold fleeces, perhaps a Romney fleece, some Texel cross wool and maybe an Icelandic fleece or two to show up at my house sometime in the next month or so. Many of these farmers come to Winnipeg to do big city errands. My house will now be on their circuit!

The Professor joked that this fleece delivery system sounded a lot like pizza delivery, only it would hang around a lot longer. With the rate I've gone through wool roving for my weaving, I'm not so sure. :) Plus, we do need more insulation for winter, right?

Lately, it's occurred to me that teaching this graduate level writing class at the university 4 days a week is also a lot like camp. While my earlier class seemed almost leisurely at 2 days a week, this class feels like we're on speed. Several people have dropped out and I'm not surprised...we're on warp speed and I can barely keep up with grading the papers.

I managed today to get down to the Forks and saw my rug, carefully wrapped around a concrete pylon near the river. The colors matched and it looked like camouflage. The tag with any information had disappeared..so it did fade right into the scenery. Oh well..next time I'll have to do something a bit brighter. I went off to get myself frozen yogurt with fruit mixed into it...a great treat during my very quick distraction from work.

On my way to the car, the sun was shining. I ate my frogurt and saw an African man about my age with his 3 year old kid walk by, hand in hand. "Look," the man said to his little boy, "Did you see that beautiful lady!?" I stopped and smiled and said what I'd been thinking-- "Look at that cute kid!" Everybody was happy. It was a perfect moment.

the cold case of the fireplace

Once upon a time, some newcomers to Winipeg had a lovely old house, built in 1914. Said house needed a lot of tender loving care. It had some things that worked splendidly. It had some things that done broke a darn long time ago.

We have a chimney. It is your average chimney for our neighborhood. It has corbelling but not too much corbelling. (Yes, this was a word I've learned since moving here. It's in the dictionary...) It was built in a sturdy way, back in 1914. However, we now have a chimney where the bricks just rest gently on each other, touching intimately. No mortar between the bricks. At all.

This is complicated by the fact that we have these lovely original cast-iron coal burning inserts in the fireplaces. Two small fireplaces. Gorgeous. Limestone in the living room, and brick in the professor's study. Totally impractical for today's world. No, we do not burn coal. We do not burn anything, because if we did, we'd burn down the house...cause remember, no safe chimney, shallow fireplace, etc.

We've been doing research on how to fix all this. The options are ridiculously varied. Take down chimney. Rebuild chimney. Get a woodburning insert/woodstove/gas fireplace insert/gas logs/gas stove/etc. Put decorative flowers in there, put a note on the mantel that says NO FIRES and call it a day... All suggestions people have offered us.

Some things will not work. For instance, new gas fireplace inserts will not fit in our fireplaces, so we've had more than one person suggest they just cut up the masonry surrounds (from 1914) to make those new things fit. Does. Not. Sound. Safe....or historically respectful.

We've got lots of advice, including some from an architect (professor's father) and an engineer with experience in natural gas (my father) and several tradesmen in the area. However, neither father has ever been here, so I've put up these photos for them to see the fireplaces. Please, join in the fun! In my best case scenario, by next year this time, I'd still be admiring these cast iron coal inserts. I'd be sitting next to a gas fire. It would feel warming, and I could shut it off before going to bed. (a woman can dream, right?!)

Have I mentioned that all of the above options will cost something between $9,000 and 15,000 to come up with a solution? Oh, and that if we don't fix that dang chimney this spring, it's likely to just fall off the roof and kill a passerby in a stiff wind?!

Now, if the above scenario causes you hyperventilation problems like it bothers me (and believe me, this is just one of the interesting problems we've encountered this year, between new/old house, immigration, work, etc.), you might need to calm yourself. Quick. Look at this spindle. Breathe. Think peaceful thoughts.

The professor bought me this as a treat and it arrived yesterday. It's made of Walnut, 33grams, and it comes from this kind man:
Ray's Spindles
It doesn't replace the one I loved that snapped in my bags while travelling to write Fiber Gathering. However, it's a nice spindle, and if you look at that webpage? I have pretty much every variety of spindle he makes. I especially like the Turkish and Bedouin spindles. The kind that broke, a "hi-lo" spindle, is one I think he might no longer make. I do miss it.

I also have been weaving to "beat" the band. Or at least, beating the heck out of these roving rugs I've been learning to do. Here are a couple of pictures of my efforts. I've done 2 twill rugs, one plain and one striped. I've done 2 plain weave rugs, one plain and one striped. All the rugs are roughly 2 by 3 feet, with the striped plain weave one maybe a few inches longer. The wools used are Icelandic, Romney and Cotswold. The warp is cotton.

I haven't quite finished off these rugs yet, but well, warp #2 is off the loom and I'm fixing to start warp #3 with the start of the new month. As soon as I figure out how to use a warping board. See? I'm definitely learning something new at least every day. Good to keep the brain active. It sure does seem like a lot of work some days. Especially the hyperventilating while trying to make expensive house decisions part...

Big big loom

Announcing:
My loom. With Harry the dog, of course, as he always wants to be in the picture.
The story? Well, I'll start at the beginning. When I was a kid, about 12, I took weaving lessons to weave my own tallis for my bat mitzvah. It was an important religious experience and a good way to learn about weaving.
My dad also took lessons with me, and in time, we bought a Herald Loom. (this link is just to a photo I found online. Our loom was light colored wood but roughly the same size or larger.) The floor loom we bought was 48" across, and I could barely reach the treadles and throw the shuttle to weave. The front breast beam was higher than my appropriate parts. I'd stretch to make it work, and everyone hoped I'd grow.

Two things happened. First, I didn't grow. Not at all. I am still that same size! Second, I managed to come down with mononucleosis. (and no, I didn't get it from kissing, but rather from eating off wooden plates that hadn't been adequately washed.) I was really sick, and that horrible feeling rubbed off on my weaving experience. I no longer wanted to weave.

My dad kept the loom and wove a couple more projects. Then my younger brothers complained at how much space it took up in the play room and we sold it. All this happened roughly 24 years ago.

In the last few years, I've thought about weaving several times, but never felt particularly motivated. New looms were expensive and used looms were often advertised in pieces. I was afraid that I lacked the skills to assemble anything from a pile of pieces. It all takes up a lot of room in one's house, too.

Since moving to Manitoba, I'd been thinking about weaving more. I'd met lots of weavers here, and I started to remember how much I liked the physical act of treadling and throwing the shuttle. (and how much I hated warping the loom.) A friend assured me that a loom would appear, at the right price, when I was ready.

Surprise! In the afternoon, on New Year's Eve, I went to see a loom with my friend. She knew the seller and promised it was likely to be in good condition. It was in great condition, and it wasn't too big for me to use. Before I knew it, I was purchasing a Nilus Leclerc jack loom, 45", with a bench, bobbin winder, warping board, shuttles, lease sticks, reference books, and lots more for about $450 Canadian. The older lady who sold it is moving to an apartment near her children, and can't bring it with her. (For reference a new loom like this--without all the other gear--sells for something in the range of $2500.)

My friend helped take this loom apart in pieces. When it looked too heavy for me to manage, we called in my husband, the professor, to help haul. The two of them brought it out of the seller's basement, put it in my car, and then hauled it from the car, across the backyard, and into the house. Then it was up the stairs to the second floor. My friend put it together for me quickly, and was on her way.

There was a handspun warp on the loom, and I went deep into the recesses of my memory to figure out what to do with it. I had to sley the heddles and put it through the reed. I had to tie the warp onto the front of the loom and start weaving. With email support from my local weaver friend and a far away weaving teacher friend....I was off to the races.

At one point, when I told the professor all the questions I had, he said if it were him, he would wait and not touch anything until my friend had time to come over and help again. I picked up a book or two, emailed specific questions, and experimented until I got it going.

It's my first practice weaving, so it won't be perfect. That said, I've already done about 15" of weaving and I'm enjoying it. What I like best?

I am literally tied to the last owner of this loom. Her gorgeous gray wool handspun singles warp the loom as my first practice weaving. My weft (the horizontal yarn) is my dark gray Romney handspun. Not only is it my handspun yarn, but I knew the sheep who grew this wool, and I was at its shearing! I have a physical connection to weavers past through this warp, and a stake in the sheep and spinning of today, and hope to weave on to the future this time around.

Today is my birthday, and I am celebrating quietly, with the notion that this weaving, this handspun warp and weft, will continue to pull me into the future without losing any mooring to the past, either.