Category Archives: Knitting, Spinning, & Weaving

Blur

It’s the fourth of the month, which means there would be an Owlet post, yet there is not. There hasn’t even been a post for Sparky’s ninth birthday yet. The Tour de Fleece launches tomorrow, and if haven’t done a post on what I have lined up as my project(s) for that.

I am swamped by work. My last project took a lot out of me, and this one, which the publisher lined up ahead of time to start on the very day the other one was due, is 450 pages of single-spaced text with equations and tonnes of reference material. I’m 250 pages through it, and my pace has really picked up as I solve certain issues and can look for more of the same going forward. It’s due next Wednesday night, and I will be glad when it’s over, because it’s thoroughly draining me mentally, apart from making me work evenings as well as days.

I will catch up next week.

On The Bobbin: “Maid in Bedlam” Merino/Silk

Yes, after all those plans to write more often, I fell down a work-related hole and lost any time to do anything not work or childcare/house-running related.

Because I didn’t have spare time, my creative output has suffered, too. I’ve knocked out a couple of deadline blanket squares for baby blankets, but I haven’t progressed on my Old Shale Shawl, either.

Therefore, here’s a spinning update, because this is my self-imposed day off after a crazy, demanding work project that I worked overtime all weekend to get done, and before an enormous three-week project that I will start tomorrow. Turns out I don’t remember how to relax, and I’ve been pretty restless.

So I decided to really put a dent in this spinning project that has been languishing on my wheel. This is the “Maid in Bedlam” limited-edition colourway from the Sip’n’Spin tea and fibre ‘un-club’ event hosted by Daybreak Dyeworks, who created three subscriber colourways and paired specific teas with them. The parcel arrived in May and contained the tea, the fibre, and a cute little teacup charm that is now hanging from my control card on my wheel. (Seriously, tea and spinning. How could I pass it up?)

Maid in Bedlam colourway from Daybreak Dyeworks, May 2014

I split the fibre halfway down the length, and spun the first half worsted short draw. It insisted on being spun super finely; it measures about 32 wraps per inch. So that already meant it was going to go slowly. And then work hit, and end of school, and recitals and concerts and end of school stuff. I finished spinning the first half this morning.

Maid in Bedlam merino/silk from Daybreak Dyeworks, June 2014

Maid in Bedlam merino/silk from Daybreak Dyeworks, June 2014

I’ve just begun the second half, and because I’m bored of spinning it worsted from end to end, I’ve decided to spin the second half from the fold, tearing off chunks and wrapping them over my the index finger of my right hand, which means it will be a semi-woollen single, as I’m spinning it woollen from a worsted prep. Are you supposed to do this? Not really, in that singles spun in different ways means the resulting two-ply yarn won’t behave like a woollen or worsted yarn. But then again, it’s my yarn and I’ll do what I want, because I am the boss of it, and can make my own artistic decisions, so there. I’m doing a light worsted smoothing-down with my left fingers as I let the single wind on, so in effect the from-the-fold bit lets me spin a bit faster and may blend the colours a teensy bit more. That’s all.

It’s a lovely colourway, and I’m enjoying working with it a lot. It looks like the final yarn will be laceweight.

I’d love to have it finished by the Tour de Fleece that starts on 5 July, because I am weird about wanting my wheel and bobbins clear for my TdF project. That will involve a trip to Colette’s spinning studio for base fibre, then some dyeing, and beads. That’s all I’m going to say right now…

LATER: Well, drat. The semi-woollen isn’t going to work; I can’t spin as finely as I do with straight worsted, and I want the two singles to be at least mostly even in grist. Fine. Back to short backward draw worsted it is.

‘Apple Orchard’ BFL

While I wait for today’s new project to land in my inbox (I have work lined up for the next three weeks, it is very comforting), I can show you the lovely, squooshy BFL yarn I just finished.

Last spring I dyed some fibre for a swap. I got some humbug Blue-Faced Leicester from Espaces Interstertiel, our local spinning and weaving studio, to use as a base. Humbug BFL is a blend of brown and natural BFL fibre, and it looks like the stripes on a humbug candy. I dyed the first half in greens, and wondered if it was too dark, if the natural variegation of the fibre was lost. So I dyed the second half with a lighter moss green and some russet dabs:

And then I ended up sending my swap partner the all-green braid anyway, because I was worried that the green and red together in this braid would end up a muddy brown. (Spinning colour is fascinating. You’re never entirely sure what will happen: will the colour intensify? soften? blend to make something cool? blend to make something not so cool?). That meant this one, which I called ‘Apple Orchard,’ went into my own stash. I pulled it out a couple of weeks ago, split it into three, spun it up kind of semi-woollen (supported longdraw from the end of a worsted prep), then plied it into a lovely three-ply.

There was a bit of brown created where the red and green spun together, but the biggest change was the russet spun into a sort of pinkish shade that looked worse on the bobbin than it did in the finished yarn. Before a wash, the yarn was 16 wraps per inch and measured about 276 yards. After a wash, it poofed up to 12 wpi and shrank to about 246 yards. Yikes! I was hoping for enough yardage to knit socks (even though wool without nylon or bamboo in it will wear through quickly, so it isn’t the best choice), but not this time. It will probably end up as a shawlette, or fingerless gloves at some point.

It is very squishy. Very, very squishy. That’s where all the yardage went — thirty yards turned into poof and squoosh. I love handspun BFL.

Socks!

A couple of years ago, my friend Elina sent me a skein of sock yarn along with a pattern for socks, and said that she knew I could do it. I had to use it for socks, too, she said; no cheating and using it to weave something or knit a scarf.

I did a couple of trial runs. I knitted a pair of bulky socks that I felted down to make slippers (which, despite having leather soles sewn onto the ball and heel, have worn through anyway), and I knit Sparky a pair of Gryffindor socks. I cast on this yarn for a pair of socks for myself last September, and finished the first one around Thanksgiving. I started the one right away — I have heard a lot about Second Sock Syndrome — and got a few rows done here and there. I turned the heel early this year, and then it sat in a project bag while I did a bunch for other stuff. I brought it with me and worked on it in the car on the way home for visiting my parents this Easter, and grafted the toe this morning.

I have Made Socks!

First pair of socks for me, April 2014

I am very proud of myself. They’re not hard, really; you just need to pay closer attention in a couple of places. Otherwise, it’s just plain knitting. Obviously I haven’t done anything complicated pattern-wise; I may eventually, but for now it’s nice to have something that’s a go-to project for knitting in waiting rooms or in the car.

The pooling is different on each sock. The ways patterns and dye repeats pool differently is something that I find interesting.

First pair of handknit socks for me, April 2014

The grafted toe feels a bit odd on the inside. I expect that will vanish (or at least be reduced) with a wash.

I used a lot less than the full skein, too. I’ll have to weigh what’s left, but I think I may have used about 2/3 of the yardage. Maybe I’ll knit Owlet a matching pair of socks with what’s left over! But the good news about the yardage is that now I can look at my handspun in a different way. I always thought socks would use up about 400 yards, but if I can knit a basic pair with about 300 yards, then lots of my handspun is now potential sock yarn!

Alpaca!

Dizzy spells yesterday. Charming. This medication can settle down any time.

I recently spun some raw alpaca I bought from my friend Jenn, who runs an alpaca farm and sells alpaca fibre at Frayed Knot FIbres. I got an ounce of cream, caramel, and chocolate alpaca, washed them, blended them together on my hackle:

And dizzed the roving off:

And then spun it into a lovely, fuzzy, deliciously soft single:

Mmm. I could cuddle it for ages.

Creative Activity Distracts The Brain (In A Beneficial Way)

I think this is incredibly fascinating.

Jacque Wilson’s article is called “This is Your Brain on Knitting,” but the observations extend beyond just knitting, of course.

Crafting can help those who suffer from anxiety, depression or chronic pain, experts say. It may also ease stress, increase happiness and protect the brain from damage caused by aging. […]
Our nervous system is only capable of processing a certain amount of information at a time, [psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi ] explains. That’s why you can’t listen and understand two people who are talking to you at once. So when someone starts creating, his existence outside that activity becomes “temporarily suspended.”
“He doesn’t have enough attention left over to monitor how his body feels, or his problems at home. He can’t feel if he’s hungry or tired. His body disappears.”
The effects of flow are similar to those of meditation, says occupational therapist Victoria Schindler. Science has shown meditation can, among other things, reduce stress and fight inflammation.
Our bodies are in a constant state of stress because our brain can’t tell the difference between an upcoming meeting with the boss and an upcoming bear attack, Schindler says. The repetitive motions of knitting, for example, activate the parasympathetic nervous system, which quiets that “fight or flight” response.

And this is why I’ve become so appreciative of fibre arts in the last few years. When I’m spinning or knitting, I’m focusing on something not-me. I distract my brain from observing how achy my muscles are, the pain in my joints, the effort it takes to think through a problem. Writing is hard on my brain (no, I know everyone says that, but it’s particularly hard for me, because I’m thinking through a fibro fog), and cello asks a lot of my back and hands, which aren’t always up to the task. I used to meditate a lot, but it started causing anxiety (ironic, that) because I couldn’t quell the “I should be doing something productive now instead of just sitting here” feeling. (Fibro has done a real number on my sense of self-worth as relates to productivity, let me tell you. Do I accept that my output is necessarily lower? Yes. Do I not worry about it? I worry about it all the time.)

The hardest thing about knitting is the decision paralysis that grips me while starting a new project. I can’t just grab a nice yarn and start something randomly; I have to calculate yardage and ask myself if I’ll actually use the finished product (or if I know someone who can/will), think over the yarn’s construction and figure out if it’s appropriate for the item, and so forth. And then I have to grapple with the whole “but what if I do it wrong?” panic. Once I’ve started, things settle down, but even working through those questions comes very close to fight-or-flight for me. It’s not limited to knitting, either; it’s the same with fibre. There is a lovely braid of dyed Polwarth/silk blend that Ceri bought for me. Is it gorgeous? Yes! Will I love spinning it? Yes! Have I spun it? No, because what if I spin it wrong somehow? What if I make pretty yarn that is utterly unusable for anything I might ever want to make? What if I chain-ply it and decide after it’s done that I should have done a traditional three-ply, or even a two-ply?

The entire article is interesting to read and makes several observations about crafting in general and its connection to dopamine release, the use of leisure activities/crafting in therapy, and the benefits of stimulating several areas of the brain simultaneously.

In general, this is what a lot of crafters — knitters, weavers, painters, miniature railroaders, people who build RC aircraft — already know on a subconscious level. It’s calming, it makes you feel good when you complete something, and it’s an easy way to give your brain a break. It’s just interesting to read about it in more scientific terms, and to see what therapists and doctors have to say about it.

In Which She Shares Her Excitement Regarding Processing Fleece For The First Time

I’m going through a rough fibro patch. Everything is achy, my hands can’t grab things correctly and I have reduced sensitivity in my fingertips, and my energy levels are about equal to sitting in a chair and not doing much else. There are other crappy things going on, and I’ve had to drop cello lessons and stop going to orchestra for a while as well, so I don’t get my one evening away from the house. I’ve just handed in another work project that was fun but draining, since it was a book of home DIY renovation projects and all the measurements needed checking and formatting, and I have been handling a yucky sinus cold through it, too.

So I thought I’d share some of what’s been interesting me lately.

Last fall my friend Stephanie bought a couple of fleeces at a fibre festival, and asked if I wanted to share some. I bought a pound of brown Corriedale fleece and some white Lincoln locks as well, and she shipped them up to me in November. They sat in their ziplock bags till this month, when the Ravellenic Games launched in concert with the Winter Olympics.

As you know, Bob, The Ravellenic Games are a fun event where you challenge yourself to do something fibre arts-related between the opening and closing ceremonies of whatever Olympics are being held. There are fun categories for knitting, crocheting, spinning, and weaving, and permutations thereof, and the point is to really challenge yourself somehow: do colourwork for the first time, teach yourself a new skill, or plan to do a huge project in only two weeks. My online knitting group of mums decided to call ourselves Team Coconut Two-Sters this year (long story, but the name partially came about because one of our awesome mums is a graphic artist, was bored at work one day, and started doing deliberately bad Photoshopped images of our two-year-old kids in coconuts), and this is my team avatar!

One of the events is the Fleece to FO (finished object) Long-Track, where you spin your yarn and then knit it into something. Stephanie and I decided this was a great occasion to each process some of our fleece and do something with it. Since the timeframe was limited, I decided to spin a bulky yarn and knit a pair of mittens. (Since I’m knitting mittens, they also qualify for the Mitten Moguls event, hurrah!)

Processing fleece means washing and prepping it for spinning. The fleece I started with was exactly the fleece that had been shorn from the sheep, greasy and dirty. I started with a cold water soak to dissolve most of the basic dirt, which sank to the bottom of the dishtub I was using. Check out that dirty water. And this is just a water soak, no soap! The silt at the bottom of the dishtub was icky.

Then I did a hot water wash, with original Dawn dish soap. (It’s a classic for washing fleece, because it really goes to town on the lanolin and grime.)

I did two washes, and I think I either washed too much at once or didn’t let it soak long enough, because after the fleece dried it was still somewhat sticky. I wasn’t sure this was wrong, though, since this was my first go, and I carded up a bit and tried spinning it longdraw from a wee rolag. It didn’t draft well, and I didn’t know if this had to do with the stickyness of the fleece or my carding technique. Figuring a second wash couldn’t hurt, I gave it another soapy bath, and when it dried it was much softer and fluffier.

Here’s what it looked like as I began to separate out the locks from the dried fleece.

I carded about two-thirds of the clean fleece in the week leading up to the Olympics. Since I don’t have hand carders or a drum carder (someday, someday) I used a pair of dog slicker brushes. I left a lot of the nepps and second cuts in, because I wanted a tweedy, rustic yarn. (Also, I didn’t want to lose any more weight/fibre.) I picked out a lot of the vegetable matter as I carded, but I’m only human and some got left in, to be picked out as I spun.

I had a pile of rolags, ready to go on the day of the opening ceremonies!

I spun two bobbins’ worth of singles, and plied them that first day. It turns out spinning bulky yarn goes really quickly! I’d done some sampling before I began and I’d originally wanted a bulky single, but that wasn’t working well for me, so I spun slightly lighter singles and did a two-ply yarn instead. When I measured my yarn I discovered I only had about 60 yards instead of the 100 I needed, so I spun up the rest of the rolags over the next day, realized I’d need even more fibre, and spun the rest of my clean fleece. I didn’t want to waste time carding them, so I just teased the fleece with my fingers till it was loose and even more fluffy, and spun right from handfuls of that.

It worked just as well, and I got the added bonus of the yarn having tiny little bits of curly crimp popping out here and there. I was done spinning by the second evening, and cast on my mittens the next day.

Here’s what the yarn looks like! I love how the paler tips of the locks contrast with the darker fleece from closer to the body of the sheep, and when spun it creates a beautiful variegation. That’s a bulky yarn at 4 WPI (wraps per inch, as marked on my handy little WPI tool, there).

I’d decided to knit mittens because I’d never tried before, though I’ve knit socks and so I figured the sock-knitting basics would carry me through the cuff and hand of the mitten, and only the thumb gusset would be new. (For those of you keeping score at home, that’s processing fleece for the first time, carding it for the first time, and knitting an item I’d never knitted before in a limited timeframe. Optimistic!) I found a pattern and began, frogged it and tried again, then found a different pattern because it still wasn’t working for me. The second pattern was wonderful, and I knit the first mitten in two evenings, and the second in another two evenings. And I used just over half the yarn I’d spun; I’d panicked for no reason after all.

So then there I was, halfway through the Olympics with my goals reached, and this extra yarn. I should use that up, I thought, and looked for a hat pattern on Ravelry that used less than 100 yards of bulky yarn. I found one and cast on. The brim is knit separately on straight needles, then seamed together to make a tube, stitches picked up along one side, and the crown is knitted in the round from there. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Part of that big brim gets flipped up and pinned in place with a brooch or a button.I have the perfect button for it, I think. If I finish in time, this will qualify for the Hat Halfpipe event.

Knitting bulky things goes quickly, so this should be done by the closing ceremonies, no problem. Mittens are easy, I have discovered, and I will knit more. (Not right now, of course, but in the future, certainly.)

So that’s my adventure with processing my own fleece and working with quickie handspun. I can’t get any closer to doing it all myself unless I actually shear the sheep.