the Village Knittiot

While everyone was off in Cummington having a magical weekend, Mr. Knittiot and I stayed home and had a magical weekend of our own. Friday afternoon we waded through traffic to pick up our friends from the Philadelphia airport and brought them back to our little apartment for a weekend of fun and relaxation. We went everywhere and did everything and by degrees I found myself falling a little more deeply in love with my sweetie, my newly adopted city, my best friend and her kind and considerate husband. As we left them at the airport late Monday afternoon, I found myself wishing that it could go on like this forever. No responsibilities. No adult pressures. Just endless days of summer and laughter, peace and contentment.

Even though I was not at an official fiber festival, everyday in the Village is filled with fiber and this weekend was no exception. My friends are lovely and were perfectly willing to humor me, even when it involved a detailed explanation of all the various spinning fibers currently in my possession (Never miss an opportunity to proselytize).

Thursday night I managed to finish Ruby Joy, though, as is usual with my knitting, it did not quite turn out as expected. I’ve decided that maybe it is time to just embrace that about myself. About 4 rows shy of finishing it became apparent that I was not going to have enough yarn and after some frustration and a little crying, I decided there was no way that I was going to be ripping out that much of what I had done, so I tinked back one row and bound off right where I was. It looks just fine. And even though I thought I was being incredibly loose with the bind off, it turns out I wasn’t, so it was a little difficult to block. Nevertheless, it is beautiful and I am thrilled. Despite the fact that it was something like 90 degrees outside on Sunday, I wore my mohair/silk shawl anyway. We were going to the art museum after all, and I kind of felt like she belonged there.

Saturday before we were about to head out for a day of strolling through the city and soaking in the sites, I quickly checked my e-mail where I learned that Loop was having a sale. Plans were immediately made to proceed to the store where Mr. Knittiot managed to snag some bamboo yarn and a really sexy Brittany crochet hook. Me and my Summer of Knitting Naturally walked away with a few skeins of Blue Sky Alpaca’s Organic Cotton and a pattern for a very basic sleeveless number that I am already well on my way into.

Sunday morning I spent some time convincing Hiroe she wanted to crochet teaching Hiroe to crochet. As I was working with her I noticed that I have really made some strides in my teaching abilities since my early days of yarn pushing. It wasn’t that I was awful before, I just have a greater sense now of how instruction should flow, what steps should follow each other and how to be intuitive about the amount of information any given person can absorb at one time. Mr. Knittiot also jumped in and gave some useful pieces of advice and she was moving along quite nicely in no time at all.

I also managed to get some spinning time in and decided to take the opportunity to play around with the hemp fiber I got at Maryland. After adjusting to the differences between plant and animal fibers, things seemed to be going quite well and I even managed to ply up and swatch a little sample. It is actually pretty soft and according to all reports only gets softer and softer with every wash. I’m going to keep playing with this a bit and once I really have my feet wet, I’m going to order enough to spin up a summer top’s worth of yarn.

In and around the fiber activity, we managed to wander all over the city, taking in the art museum, the zoo, Rittenhouse Square, South Street, The Magic Garden and much more. There was a considerable amount of tasty food — the best of which was prepared by my resident chef, Mr. Knittiot. Lucky for us, Hiroe’s husband John is an amazing photographer and he documented the whole weekend. Feel free to wander over to his blog and check out his last several entries. Fiber folk will not be disappointed as he has some amazing pictures of my spinning wheel in action, Ruby Joy on my shoulders and Hiroe and I crocheting in and amongst some of the other snapshots of the weekend.

Just in case my obsession with enjoyment of knitting, spinning and all things fiber wasn’t enough I thought it might be time to add something new to the mix. As I mentioned a couple posts ago, I’ve been completely absorbed with reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan. For me, our relationship with food, its role in good health, the environmental impact of our growing systems and agricultural theory have long been an interest of mine. The evolution of my awareness and the resulting changes I have made at each stage of the game are not something I typically talk about here, but I am feeling more and more of a need to write about it these days. Pollan’s book coupled with May’s Eat Local Challenge (not to mention the Summer of Knitting Naturally and other attempts to green-up our Village) have really gotten me thinking about my food and where it comes from — no longer just about whether or not it is organic and/or healthy and/or affordable.

Because I have (once again) found myself too late to join any of the local CSAs that I am interested in, my thoughts naturally turned to the backyard. Despite living in a bustling metropolitan area, we are lucky enough to have a little postage stamp sized piece of earth behind our apartment. And I must confess that, until this week, it was almost feeling a little too big and the prospect of taming its wildness a little overwhelming. For those of you who grew up in houses with yards and possibly gardens, this may seem silly, but as someone who spent her entire childhood and most of adulthood in an apartment — usually on an upper floor — lawn care and/or gardening was not something I had to think about. When we bought and briefly owned a house, I had delusions of becoming a great gardener and growing bountiful vegetables and amazing flowers. That lasted for about one afternoon, after which I retreated into the house and told my backyard it could do whatever it wanted. Occassionally I would head out there and try to show it who was boss, but this (wo)man had no dominion over her land. I gave up and let my backyard become very unkempt natural.

When I was younger I spent a considerable amount of time at my aunt’s house. She lived in the country and kept what to my 5-year-old self felt like an enormous garden. She would slather sunscreen on us some afternoons and send us out into the rows to weed. We hated it and complained bitterly. We also got very little done and usually spent the day sitting in the midst of the green beans picking and eating them right off the plants. They were delicious, but the experience did not improve my green thumb. There were also a couple of years that we had an apartment on the ground floor where we planted a lovely little flower garden around the edges of our stone patio and that was singularly satisfying. So, I’ve never planted vegetables and I have no reason to believe that I am going to be any good at it. But you know what? I do believe it. I believe it with a rabid intensity. Thus, I have set about planning and creating a summer vegetable garden…

While undertaking a task of this nature is normally quite overwhelming for this little knittiot, for some reason I have been really good at breaking down each task into manageable, bite-sized steps. So, I spent a leisurely Wednesday evening at the bookstore flipping through some of their gardening books. I’ve decided that even though we have a backyard that has some actual dirt, this isn’t a permanent place of residence and therefore container gardening is the best way to go. Portable gardens can be carried with you. Next I tamed the wilds of the area, trimming back the enormous bush that had taken over most of the growing space and pulling up the mammoth weeds that had managed to pop up all over. Today a trip to the local hardware store will result in some chicken wire for creating a small yard waste compost pile. I have also drawn several diagrams of what the space will look like. Some are ridiculously ambitious and involve plans to can tomatoes in the fall. Others are more manageable. I’m leaning toward manageable, mostly because I prefer to succeed in my pursuits.

Pictures will follow at various points along the way…

Fleece Update
And lest you worry about my poor fleeces and fear they have been abandoned to a new monomania, I assure you I love all my children equally. The washed bits from the cold water scouring experiment have now been either combed or carded. My first attempt to spin the fleece involved using some of the carded rolags. The results were awful. It was difficult to spin and the resulting yarn was very rough and not at all what I want to be knitting with. Nevertheless, I plied it and knit a rather rustic looking gauge swatch. While it isn’t the softest thing in the world, I must say that the colors are just gorgeous — a lovely, subtly varigated, brown/grey tweed. I am certain that the issues with the rolags have far more to do with my inability to card correctly, so I am looking more into what I am doing wrong.

After the unsatisfying results from spinning with the rolags, I decided to try spinning straight from the lock after combing out the tips and the shorn end a little. The result was scrumptious. Easy to spin. Soft and inviting singles. Even the plying was a joy. All around a very good attempt and I now have my first sizable ball of handspun somewhere in a 2-ply lace-weight range. Sample swatch to follow at a later date.

I did manage to wash some more of the fleece, this time in the recommended hot water and the results were much, much better. However, despite two washes and two rinses, the tips are still quite matted and dirty. In the book Hands on Spinning by Lee Raven, she actually advocates a method of fleece washing that has you slightly agitate the tips to get the dirt out. I am planning on trying out her instructions on the next round which will probably be sometime this weekend. Once I determine which method I most prefer, I will be finishing up this fleece in short order and moving onto the other two, which I am hoping to process much more quickly than I have this one and probably in larger batches.

On a final note, things around the Village may be a little quiet over the next week or so. My best friend and her husband are coming out to visit us over memorial day weekend and there is much work to be done before they arrive. So updates may be few. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

For the past several weeks my life has been plagued by a general feeling of restlessness and dissatisfaction. At first I thought it was just the typical summer lull in my work schedule (with a few intermittent crisis deadlines), the ending of a big project and the weird transitional time between the next big one. But in a conversation with my sweetie the other day, he mentioned that some of the things I was saying were indicative of someone who wasn’t feeling very challenged by their job. The second those words left his mouth — probably before I even really heard them — I knew he was right.

While I don’t really consider this job my life’s work, it has been, at least for the last year, challenging and engaging. Particularly these last few months of transitioning into working from home, getting settled, learning how to manage my time (or not) and so forth. There was a lot that was new and for a time that was enough. But I knew all of that window dressing wouldn’t hide for long that essentially I am still doing the same uninspiring thing I set out not to do. Namely, writing marketing materials for big box retailers. Given my philosophical leanings on the consumer culture, corporate business practices, environmental impact and so forth, you can probably draw the conclusion that while it pays the bills, it isn’t exactly what I would be doing in my ideal world. That is not to say that it hasn’t had its benefits. It pays the bills and I am a firm believer in paying the bills. It has done wonders for my writing skills (and editing), and the materials I work on are not straight “sales” pieces, so that makes it tolerable, but not exactly exciting. And I’m working from home — which has its ups (flexibility, freedom, comfort, convenience) and downs (isolation, distractions, constant presence of work in my life), but is overall a very good setup.

Initially, one of the grand appeals of working from home (and this was what I continually stressed in all my early conversations with Mr. Knittiot) was supposed to be the extra time, energy and flexiblity it would afford. This would then free me up to focus on figuring out what I want, where I belong, etc. Ultimately, I reasoned, this would help me start building a life and career that wasn’t dependant on my dazzling copywriting and editing skills — at least not in the way they are currently employed.

And while I am tempted to say that this has not yet happened, that would be a lie. Working at home has given me considerable time to contemplate my next move, to research topics of interest to me and to think about what it is that draws my passions and motivates me. I think where some of the problem comes in (and the restlessness) is that I am always focused on the future and where I think I want to be. The eternal question seems to be — How do you keep moving toward a goal and yet remain content with where you are?

I realize that in self-examination there are no shortcuts, and discovering the truth (or truths) about one’s self is a lifelong process. I know every moment that went before this one led me here and that there is no arriving, only continuing on the next leg of the journey, because once you’ve arrived, you stop moving and that eventually leads to stagnation. Yet somehow I keep imagining that “figuring it out” is going to be this miraculous moment with streaming sunlight and parting clouds and choirs of celestial beings singing and swooping low to lay a mantel over my shoulders, after which I will stride off into the world holding my purpose like a scepter or, rather, since I am fond of wandering prophet imagery, a gnarled old staff. And birds will bring me food, and doubt (most importantly self-doubt) will never plague me again, because I will have a purpose. There will be no more greener pastures, only this — my purpose.

But this isn’t exactly an ancient religious text we’re living here, and finding your place is more organic than that and more about *making* your own way and taking possesion of your life — not just surrendering to the cultural tides. And purpose? Well, that can be a multifaceted stone. So, am I thinking, pondering and considering my options? Yes. Do I have all the answers yet? Heck no. Do I have some ideas worth exploring a little more? Yes indeed. Does that mean it is all going to magically fall into place tomorrow? Oh. Right. I guess not, huh? Bingo.

So here we are, right back with that whole patience thing again. Damn. Whenever am I going to learn that one? I guess I’ll learn it in time. Oh the irony.

Greetings from a grey and dreary Monday morning in Philadelphia. I always love spring days like this because, while they are quiet and slow, they are full of life and you can practically feel the insatiable thirst of newly sprouting vegetation and hear the singing of their happy plant songs. Rain makes everything new, and even in a dusty and dirty city spring showers make it all seem clean and fresh, even if only for a little while.

This weekend I spent a lot of time playing with my fleece and thinking about where it came from. I think that everyone makes their first fleece purchase in a bit of a fog. I did. No doubt about it. It was pretty. It smelled strongly sheepy (and I am one of those individuals who is head over heels in love with the earthy scent of lanolin and hay). It had good crimp and nice, long, soft locks. Other than knowing it was one of Betty’s sheep (as opposed to Esther’s) and that she lives somewhere in Massachusetts, I know nothing. I don’t know how she cares for her sheep. If she coats them in pesticides, pumps them full of antibiotics or even what she feeds them. I know that she does not name them and I felt vaguely cheated when I discovered that my fleeces were called R20, W09 and something else. With names like that, these sheep could have been extras in a George Lucas film. I was hoping for something pastoral and quaint like Penelope, Gertrude and Walter. This was my buyer’s remorse setting in, aided by the fact that the cold water wash left the materials a little dirtier than I would have liked and a little more greasy than I wanted.

At Maryland, I was a shopper on a mission. My goal was to find organic fiber sources, naturally-dyed yarns and other ecologically friendly businesses, but they were few and far between. I didn’t see any organic farms, which is not to say that they weren’t there, just that I didn’t see them. There were a few places selling naturally dyed yarns (and their colors, I might add, were just as rich and vibrant as any other yarns there). So now I look at my fleeces and I wonder about them and how they were raised and if they were dumped in sheep dip or or grazed on chemically treated grasses. And truthfully, at this point, there is no way for me to know. I have no connection to them or their owners other than a one-time cash transaction.

This is, when all is said and done, the way of our world. Other than the finished product, we have little connection with the sources of the materials required to make them. And in large part, the system is dependant on this ignorance. It is partially a practical thing — our lives are so full of “stuff” that to know where each came from and how it was ultimately assembled, packaged and shipped would be a full-time job. It is also easier to entice folks into consumption when they don’t have to face the reality of their consumer behaviors and the impact it has on the world at large.

This is the overwhelming vantage point from which we view change. We see an impenetrable machine of a system that is churning out products at an incredible rate. Products we need. Products we think we need. Products we want. And we are torn on some level. I know that I am. I have the same messages in my head that equate happiness with more things. And there are days (more than I would like to admit) when I feel sad and the immediate solution that comes to mind is buying something, anything really. Usually those purchases are disappointing, but it doesn’t stop the pattern from repeating. To believe we are immune from the powerful, all-consuming (pun intended) messages of our cultures is hubris of the highest order, and calls for some serious examination and analysis.

The opposite of over-consumption is total denial, and this is an impossible place to live. The reality of our existence is that we are consumers. We need food, water, shelter, clothing and socialization. We produce waste — both from our bodies and from our pursuit of the things we need to survive. These are the facts and to deny them is to deny our humanity. There is no such thing as zero impact — not for any creature. But the question remains, what do you do when consumption has gotten out of control, as it so clearly has? How can you approach your consumer status from a responsible and/or ethical space? And like most things, the answer is never simple. But it has been my experience in this life, that the things worth doing are rarely straightforward or paved with clear paths. If you don’t like where the road is leading, then the only thing to do is step off the beaten path and make your own. Because that is the only way you’ll ever get somewhere else.

Stepping away from the familiar is at first bewildering and disorienting. Maybe you don’t know where you are or even where you want to go. Thought, at this juncture, is equally as important as action. For me, everything begins with research. I read widely. I talk to people. I collect data. I sift through all the information. I draw conclusions. I test my hypothesis. I discuss, discuss, discuss.

I know we have talked at length before about the confusing nature of making changes that are greener, more ecologically aware and truly helpful to the environment. We have mentioned the myriad of interconnected factors that are completely out of our control. But confusing or not, it is worth wading through. Keep digging. Keep asking questions. Don’t stop until you are satisfied that you have enough answers to draw a conclusion. Sometimes this takes a long time. Sometimes the decision is quick and easy. Sometimes you will hit a dead end and need to chart a new course. Sometimes you will implement a change only to later gain some new information that will completely alter (or even reverse) your position. The point is to remain flexible, open and insatiably curious. Do what you can, avoid guilt and keep trying.

In the course of my research I have come across a number of interesting things and I thought I would try to share a few every week or so. Links and descriptions below…

Current Reading: The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan — a fascinating and detailed look at our current food system as seen from an analysis of four meals, straight from the source to the table. One section covers the current agrobusiness, big-food model and ends with a fast food meal. The next two meals are from organic farming models — one from a small, local organic farmer and the other from a big-business wholesaler, namely Whole Foods. And finally, the last meal (or as he describes it, “the perfect meal”) was hunted, gathered and prepared entirely by Pollan himself. If you are interested in reading an excerpt, Mother Jones has printed a section of it on their website right here: link. You can be sure that I will also be reviewing this on The Bookish Dark in the near future.

What can I do? (The question we all ask ourselves): Ask Umbra (brought to my attention by a reader) is an excellently thought out, well researched and rational column with regular advice about how to reduce our impact. She also has an FAQ list that tackles some of the important things you can do starting right now.

Sheepy Link of the Week: This is an excellent article written by Donna Druchunas (author of Arctic Lace) that talks about the state of organic and ecologically friendly fiber farming and processing. She addresses some of the inherent difficulties with obtaining certification and includes some balanced perspective along with a list of sources for organic and environmentally friendly wool and fiber processing. This article appears to be a couple of years old, but the information still seems quite accurate.

Yesterday I noticed that my copy of the holy tome of spinning was in at the library. So, Mr. Knittiot and I hopped in the car and took a quick jaunt to one of our favorite places where I picked up The Alden Amos Big Book of Handspinning. I have had it in my possesion for less than 24 hours and I have already learned more in a couple hours of reading than I have in months. This is one of those books that must become a permanent part of my own library.

I of course skipped right to the section on scouring fleeces where I discovered a few things I thought I ought to pass on. As it turns out, water temperature does matter. Yesterday as I was combing out the results of my cold water wash, I noticed that it felt a bit greasier than my hot water batch had. According to Amos, that was most likely because the grease or fat in the fiber only melts at somewhere around 105-110 degrees. So, the detergent did the best it could, but if the substance wouldn’t melt, it couldn’t entirely remove it. He also gives a mini chemistry lesson that explains how soaps and detergents interact with fibers and the effects of hard vs. soft water on the process. And while he does provide detailed instructions for his own method of scouring, what is really impressive is the information and explanations about how everything works, which is really important if you want to experiment and find your own method (particularly one that doesn’t waste so much water, and even there, he tries to help you by telling you at what points you can conserve water).

I made it through the section on carding and found his concise, yet detailed instructions to be of great help. This morning in just 10 minutes I was able to easily master the technique and produce my first two rolags, which look significantly better than my previous attempts using what little information I found online. It’s a fairly easy process, in fact, and one which can be done anytime you have an extra five minutes or so.

I am also doing some spinning, but sadly none of it is from my festival purchases. I’m trying to finish up a project with some BFL I started sometime back, mostly because I want to free up a couple of my bobbins, but also because I hate leaving things unfinished. Over the course of the next couple of days I plan to spend a considerable amount of time with my new buddy Alden. He is so jolly and pleasant. I just know we are going to be great friends.

Sunday morning after we got home I laid out all three fleeces (they are technically half fleeces, but writing “half fleece” everytime feels tiresome to me, so when I say fleece, just know that I understand they are only half of a fleece — but a fleece nonetheless) on a sheet in my living room to air out a bit and decide what I was going to do with them. The woman who sold them to us told me *not* to keep them in the plastic bags, but didn’t tell me what I could put them in so I did a little research. Pillow cases, it turns out, are a good idea. So I grabbed the oldest, rattiest ones I could find (that wasn’t hard — linens are not a priority in our household) and wrapped up two of the fleeces. Then I bought a couple large plastic storage bins and placed them in there.

I decided to work with the smallest fleece first, the rich dark chocolate one with the tawny tips (which weighs in at about 2-1/4 lbs.). After much research online I determined that everyone has an opinion about what is the “right” way to wash a fleece, and while they have some similarities, absolutely no two people agree. Some say use hot water, some say use cold. There were a hundred different suggestions for detergent (everything from Dawn or Ajax to various laundry detergents to shampoo to professional wool scours). Some say add in a little vinegar at the end to soften up and condition the wool. Others say don’t bother. Absolutely everyone agreed, however, that if you are using hot, use hot all the way through or if cold, always use cold, and also that agitation was the number one no-no-bad-dog.

So, I’ve been experimenting. The first day I used intensely hot water and a little Ajax dishwashing liquid. I did two soaks with detergent and two or three soaks without. I worried that I had managed to felt it a little bit despite my careful handling of the fiber, but using a pet hair comb (Thanks for the tip, Juno!) I was able to pretty easily comb out both the tips and the end of the lock to get this:

Here is a detail pick that actually manages to almost capture the color.

Since the fleece project falls under the Summer of Knitting Naturally umbrella, I considered my first attempt in terms of impact. A couple of things came to mind. First of all, it required a lot of water. Second, hot water uses considerably more energy and resources than cold. Three, Ajax is not the best, most environmentally friendly detergent in the world. So, for the second attempt I decided to use cold water. When combing out the first batch, I noticed the fibers shed a lot of dirt in the process. To try and reduce the amount of water and eliminate more of the dirt, I let it soak for several hours the first time around. In addition to the extra long soak, I tried to loosen up some of the more matted locks before getting them wet. I also found some excellent dishwashing detergent (nontoxic, no petroleum products, plant based, biodegrable, no chlorine or carcinogens, no fragrances, etc., etc., etc.), which will also replace my Ajax detergent for good.

All in all, I was very happy with the results of the second go. Most of the dirt was gone. The fibers felt soft and easy to loosen up. I’m still not 100% sure that this is the right detergent for the fleece. Since we are experimenting with some new laundry detergents that are less impactful and don’t irritate my skin, which is very, very sensitive (Seriously, I get hives just from taking a shower), I plan to try them out on the fleece as well. So, the answer may lie with one of those products. I guess we shall see. For now, though, this seems to be working just fine.

Today, more washing. Tonight, experiments in hand carding. Details to follow.

Saturday was such an unbelievably wonderful day that I am almost at a loss for how to describe it. By the end of the day I couldn’t stop myself from smiling even if I tried and satisfaction and contentment were simply radiating from the core of my being. I felt as if I had come home.

It’s hard to tell if we go to Maryland for the fiber and stay for the friends, or if we go for the friends and the purchase of said fiber is a pleasant side effect. Whichever it is, I do know this — it is a scientific fact that you get more pleasure out of purchasing things in the company of friends and companions than you would on your own. This is what makes a fiber festival such as Maryland so successful, because even if you have managed to wander into a booth all by yourself, all you have to do is turn your face a few millimeters to the left or the right and you will find someone who can be brought to tears by the beauty of a drop spindle or a 1/2 oz. of Mongolian Cashmere. They will rejoice with you as if you are their best friend since first grade and you’ve just told them the most important and exciting news of your life.

As everyone predicted, I walked into the festival and was immediately overwhelmed. Wow. There was so much to take in you hardly knew where to begin. I was so grateful that in the first barn we wandered into I ran smack dab into Juno, who promptly sat me down at her brand new spinning wheel (which is so beautiful that I just want to sit and stare at it forever because it is that amazing) and after a few minutes of spinning on the best wheel I’ve ever used in my life I was completely calm again. Don’t you love people who know what you need? After that, the fiber aquisition began.

Juno gave Mr. Knittiot a crash course in fleece selection and we immediately found a beautiful white border leicester half fleece and purchased it. Later after wandering the entire festival we went back to this booth because we liked what they had so much and bought two more half fleeces. Mr. Knittiot picked them out and as it turns out he has quite the talent for it, because my girls are gorgeous. They are exactly the colors I was looking for, they are soft, clean and delicious. Right now my whole house smells like sheep. That rich, earthy scent of lanolin is the best drug I know of. See below for a few pictures that don’t quite do them justice, but it was the best I could do. The white fleece is 3-1/4 lbs. and both the dark chocolate with the brown tips and the grey with rosy tips are around 2-1/2 lbs. each.

True to his word, Mr. Knittiot was an excellent Id and Enabler. He urged me to buy when I was starting to falter and hesitate on the things I was clearly in love with. He hung back when I needed a few minutes to think. He kept an eye out for booths that he knew I would like and at the end of the day when he wandered off for a minute he came back, took me by the arm (without any explanation) and walked me over to a place called Botanical Shades. Turns out they specialize in selling naturally dyed yarn and dyeing supplies. We had a fantastic discussion with the man who was running the booth for his partner who does all the dyeing and it was so encouraging to find another business that has larger goals than just making a profit, or rather are interested in making a profit while practicing business in a way they can feel good about. After realizing that I didn’t have enough money left, Mr. Knittiot did the best thing. He bought me an Earthues Natural Dye Kit for my Summer of Knitting Naturally project. Everytime I think I love him as much as I possibly can, he expands my definition of love. It wasn’t that he bought me something, because anybody can buy any person anything. It was the whole day and the thoughtfulness and the support and the everything else. He is charming and wonderful and I feel so lucky to have him.

Since the Summer of Knitting Naturally is foremost in my mind these days, it pretty much dominated all my purchases. And I was interested to discover that while there were a number of places that offered naturally dyed fibers (in some of the most stunning colors I’ve ever seen), what really attracted my attention were the natural colors of the fibers themselves. It is such a rich palette that we have to work with. Particularly once you start mixing and matching fibers and blending them together, it is unbelievable the variations you can get. Just from my fleeces alone, the range and depth is stunning.

I knew that I wanted to do a lot of experimenting with different fibers, so my goal was to obtain as many different types as possible. Luckily for me, I happened across Shadeyside Farm in the main barn. They specialize in more exotic fibers, and I was able to get (from left to right in the picture below) some Baby Camel/Tussah, Yak/Bombyx Mori, Black Alpaca/Bombyx Mori, Chocolate Alpaca/Tussah. The photo doesn’t do the colors justice. And, of course, you can’t feel how soft they are, so you’ll just have to take my word for it — they are exquisite.

At the Dzined booth, I picked up an 8 oz. ball of hemp for a mere $9. The woman who owns, runs and does everything else for Dzined gave me some great spinning tips and I am thoroughly excited about delving into plant fibers. I looked for Soy Silk and Bamboo, but sadly found none. I did, however, find a supplier who I can order through. She also happens to carry the Foxfibre naturally colored cottons developed by Sally Fox (one of my real life heroes).

Later in the day, Cassie of Too Much Wool introduced me to the wonderful world of Woodchuck Products, where I got a nostepinne in walnut and a little wraps per inch counter. His prices are so reasonable and his work is so good that I will certainly be getting more from him.

Oh, also, remember the Mongolian Cashmere I so casually dropped into the conversation way back toward the beginning. Yeah. Well, there is indeed a half of an ounce sitting on my futon right now and it is so soft that it will make you want to cry. I tried to take pictures, but I think its beauty may have broken my camera. Just trust me, it is amazing. The best part about it is that the woman who purchases the fiber works with a fair trade company. This means the product was a little bit on the expensive side (no, I’m not even going to tell you what I paid for half an ounce), but I know that the producers of this exquisite material are getting paid a fair wage. It’s a little thing, but it makes me feel even better about it. If all goes well, there will be another Mongolian Cashmere accident and it will net me enough fiber to spin the yarn for the Bird’s Nest Shawl from Folk Shawls.

It feels very strange to be writing such a product heavy post. I don’t typically blog about my purchases and this post is getting very, very long. The truth is, as wonderful and exciting as all these things are and what they will mean for my spinning in the next several months, nothing can compare to the joy of being with people. And Maryland was all about the people. It was so gratifying to finally be able to spend some time with these fellow fiber folks. Among some of those I was finally able to meet in person were the lovely Etherknitter (who was as delightful and warm as I imagined she would be), Rachel H. (whose thoughtful and engaging comments are so good that it does seem to indicate she really should have a blog, but not if it is going to distract her from making spinning wheels. I’m just sayin’.) and Crazy Lanea (who is as talented, funny and enjoyable to talk with as you can imagine). When the festival closed and it was time to go home, I wasn’t ready for the day to end. Luckily a couple of local Philly knitters/spinners suggested that we all go out for Indian food (If you are ever in Columbia, MD — Mango Grove was the best vegetarian Indian restaurant I have ever eaten at). Naomi and Kirsten were wonderful dinner companions and it made the whole day just seem complete.

Okay, now this has gotten ridiculously long and I really ought to sign off. More tomorrow…

Id (das Es, lit. “the it”)
Freud borrowed the term “Id” from Georg Groddeck’s (1923) The Book of the It. Groddeck defines it thus:

I hold the view that man is animated by the Unknown, that there is within him an “Es,” an “It,” some wondrous force which directs both what he himself does, and what happens to him. The affirmation “I live” is only conditionally correct, it expresses only a small and superficial part of the fundamental principle, “Man is lived by the It.”
(Groddeck, 1923/1961, p. 11)

(content taken from A Freud Glossary: link)

My mantra for tomorrow is “Man is lived by the It!” And what is the “it” if not the impulse to create? I have come to realize that my love of knitting and spinning and all pursuits fiber related come from a place inside of me that is filled with longing, in a very over powering and primitive way, to create something with my own hands. Why else would the concept of taking raw materials gathered from a field and transforming them into something practical and beautiful fill me with such profound joy? It’s the pleasure principle. Knitting strokes the Id, no doubt about it.

When I first posed the idea to Mr. Knittiot of him accompanying me to Maryland, he happily agreed, offering to play the role of my Id for the day. That is, he decided it was going to be his mission to encourage me to act on impulse, make decisions and most importantly walk away from the festival with a bundle of wooly goodness (we in the knitting community refer to such wonderful and selfless people as “enablers”). This bodes well for the day as does the weather forecast which now says it will be 74 and partly cloudy.

Yesterday I gave my Id a test run (all by myself even!) and managed to not only survive shopping for clothes (I hate clothes shopping, it is a necessary evil, which is why it has been a year and a half since I bought anything new and only the increasingly large hole in my favorite pair of pants convinced me it was time for a new pair) but also walked home with a couple of items that look flattering and feel great (i.e. comfortable — I don’t believe in being uncomfortable just to be fashionable — guess who doesn’t wear high heels. ever.)

And while I would rather have liked to whoop it up with my fiber buddies at the bi-weekly (does that mean every two week or twice a week?) philly fiber gathering yesterday evening, instead I was sitting in an uncomfortable folding chair in the swelteringly hot gym of a very well-to-do catholic high school (what, all that money couldn’t buy a theater?) watching a very miserable version of Les Miserables. Uggg. I know that confessing to a general dislike of Les Miserables is bound to get me hung in some circles, but I have tried to like it and just don’t. And while I have seen some wonderful high school performances in my day (a particularly stunning version of Bye Bye Birdie comes to mind), this was not one of them. Nevertheless, we went with some coworkers of Mr. Knittiot (one of the kids in the show works with them) and afterwords we went out and indulged in a little aftershow Guinness (I actually splurged and had two). I was out until well after 2:00 and it was the first time in more than 4 years that I heard last call. I felt very young. Today I feel very old.

Anyway, tonight is preparation (make the lunch — tofu egg salad, peanut butter and celery with raisins, fresh strawberries, mmmm) and tomorrow we leave at the crack of dawn for the 2.5 hour drive to the festival grounds. I won’t be wearing Ruby Joy, but I will have my charming husband with me and you can’t miss him — if you see a tall, lanky man in black with a long curly moustache (ala Snidely Whiplash) and a pork pie hat, I’ll be the shy, linen-clad gal in the glasses standing next to him looking like I am going to pass out from the sheer magnitude of it all…

A few weeks ago now, Mr. Knittiot and I embarked on a caffeine experiment. After talking about it for a couple of months, we decided to see what life would be like without coffee (and caffeinated tea). Our coffee intake is not exactly what I would call out of control. I have one large cup in the morning, and my sweetie finishes off the rest of our 10 cup pot (which is actually about 2 large cups). Since caffeine has been an important part of our lives for the better part of a couple of decades, we created a gentle schedule in which we weaned ourselves first off the coffee, moved onto the less caffeine intensive black tea, then green tea and finally, we went down to strictly herbal tea. Now I do have to admit that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. But that does not mean it was a good thing either. For the first week or so I woke up with a sudden urge to whine. I was tired. No, I was exhausted.

Slowly my body acclimated and by the end of the second week I was doing a little better. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to think of the coffee deprivation as a forever state. It was just too much to contemplate. I found myself wondering if I was less jittery — one of the reasons I was worried about my caffeine intake was its effect on anxiety levels. I can’t tell if it has really made a difference or if that is what I have been telling myself so I feel better about not having coffee.

This weekend, we are driving to Maryland. I realized with a bit of a sinking feeling that was going to be the first road trip of my adult life that would not involve a hot cup of coffee as my early morning companion and it made me very sad. I mentioned it to Mr. Knittiot. A little later in the day he came into my office and started talking about how tired and lackluster his energy has been for the last couple of weeks. This led into a discussion about the caffeine experiment. After some careful analysis we declared an end to the moratorium and he promptly went in to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of Earl Grey (mmmmm bergamot & black tea).

So, I’m back on the sauce, sort of. For some reason we didn’t brew a pot this morning. Mr. Knittiot is happy with his Earl Gray and I’m enjoying a cup of peppermint tea. Maybe it is just knowing that I can have it when I want it that is enough. Hmm.

I’m close to done on the Ruby Joy shawl, but a social engagement this evening will keep me from putting the edging on until Friday. Not enough time for blocking and drying I fear. Also, I lack confidence in my skills as a yarn estimator and so I am staring at what is left of the Alchemy Haiku trying to determine if I have enough to do another 10 row repeat of the pattern plus the 12 row edging. I have a hunch that I do, and if that is the case, then I am never gonna make it by Saturday. But I’m afraid to move forward on another repeat for fear that I will run out of yarn in the middle of the edging and then what am I going to do? Yarn dilemmas.

Maryland is a mere five days away and it looks like things are going to be quite busy this week. I prefer being busy, since it will almost guarantee that the hours and days leading up to Saturday don’t stretch on endlessly.

My charming husband has decided to accompany me in order to play the role of my id — which sadly seems to be lacking (or locked up somewhere) when it comes to making purchases. In truth, I just have a hard time making decisions in general and tend to get overwhelmed easy. So I’m bringing a grounding element with me. Perhaps he’ll find some fibers that he feels compelled to have as well. Mr. Knittiot hasn’t been crocheting much lately, but there is nothing like a fiber festival to get you in the mood.

Despite the sleep deprivation on Saturday night that came courtesy of a very inconsiderate and obnoxious neighbor who has a stereo system that I would like to smash into a million little pieces with a very large hammer, it was a lovely weekend. Good time with friends and lots of knitting and fibery accomplishments.

Since this is going to be my first trip to Maryland, I am doing a little prep work. On the subject of this particular festival, I have received some excellent advice from my fellow knitters and Maryland veterans. It has all pretty much been the same — you will be overwhelmed by the magnitude. Without question. This usually serves to make me positively giddy with anticipation. Even so, me and the being overwhelmed, we are good friends (you know, in the way that mortal enemies are) and we go way back. So this week I intend to give some thought as to what it is I am looking for at Maryland, with the full and total understanding that if I want to chuck it out the window the second I step onto the fairgrounds, that is perfectly acceptable.

After much swooning over Juno’s amazing finds, I am contemplating fleeces. With my upcoming Summer of Knitting Naturally, you don’t get much closer to the source than that. I am also going to be on the lookout for farms that are more local to my neck of the woods — not necessarily for purchase at the festival, but for later use — and also operations that are using organic methods to care for their flocks. I also want to try out a number of different spinning wheels. I won’t be in the market for a new one for a good year, I bet, but when it comes time to buy, I want to have a much better idea of what I am doing than I did the first time around.

I want to find some Socks That Rock, because working with this yarn has been one of those distinct pleasures that I want to repeat again and again, and I am one of those people who just likes to see the colors in person. Definitely need some undyed fibers for this summer’s experiments in plant-based dying. And I’m highly curious about soy silk, bamboo, hemp and other plant fibers for spinning, so I may have to grab a little of each of those as well for experimentation purposes. If I can manage to find anyone with information on using plant dyes or who sells plant-dyed yarns, you can bet I will be hitting those booths.

Every year at Rhinebeck I start out with a small notebook and a pen in my hands and the intention of taking detailed notes to help me remember the various suppliers and what they offer that I like so much. By the time we get halfway through the second barn, I have usually abandoned them and entered that trance-like state in which I am mesmerized by everything I see. It doesn’t typically wear off until we are safely back at home and I realize I can’t remember anything I thought I would. I vow to take better notes next year and the pattern repeats itself. I want to avoid that cycle at Maryland. I’m not sure this is a very realistic goal, but perhaps if I gave myself permission to only jot down notes when something was really, really amazing or fit in with some of my above stated goals… Or maybe, I should just relax and enjoy my day. Hmmm. What a novel concept. Have I mentioned I’m a very goal-oriented person?

The Kiri Shawl, or as mine has come to be known — Ruby Joy, continues to progress. I honestly have never been happier working on anything as I am this. It is beyond beautiful. Needless to say, I will be working with Alchemy yarns again, there is simply no question of it. I have refrained from stating out loud that I am trying to finish this before Maryland, because I didn’t want the accompanying sense of pressure and/or failure. However, thanks to yesterday’s progress, a sweetie who will be working the next several evenings and Smallville and The L Word on DVD, I think we can safely commit to blocking by Thursday evening or Friday morning. But I am not making any promises. I will be at Maryland on Saturday, with or without the shawl and either way is just fine with me.