the Village Knittiot

For the last couple of days I’ve had a post rolling around in the back of my head, which is a little odd, because since deciding to take a break I haven’t really felt the usual compulsion to write much of anything. Particularly here on the blog. This self-imposed hiatus has been an excellent refresher for me. Sometimes you just need to be quiet and listen. That has pretty much been the theme of the summer for me. And I have heard a lot of things. I’m not sure that’s over yet, but today I felt the need to write and I am listening to that voice.

As the Summer of Knitting Naturally has worn on, I have found myself experiencing a sense of freedom and relief. At first I couldn’t quite put my finger on where it was coming from. Then I took a step back from the blog and that sensation increased. So I decided to give it some more serious scrutiny.

A not so surprising side effect of the boundaries I set for myself this summer is that is has been much more difficult to buy yarn. Not that there aren’t options, it’s just that they are few and far between and usually only available online. I tend to be reluctant about purchasing yarn I haven’t touched or felt or visually inspected. I say, “Oh, I’ll think about it.” And more often than not, I just never go back and actually hit the “buy it” button.

In the midst of all of this (as usual) I have been in the throes of some serious evaluation of my path and where I want it to ultimately take me. The getting quiet and listening are a big part of that. I have had some revelations and realizations and moments of clarity. These moments, in turn, have caused me to seriously think about my priorities.

Financially, knitting has been my priority for the better part of the past few years. I started crocheting to preserve my sanity in a difficult situation. This led to knitting. And like many things in my life, what was once an activity promoting peace, relaxation and a personal sense of accomplishment, has been turned (by me) into a pressure-filled pursuit of excellence with unrelenting expectations and standards that I can’t possibly meet at the moment. In short, it has become discouraging. And expensive.

I hadn’t really realized how much pressure I felt about the financial aspect of knitting until it was removed from the equation. The pursuit of knitting, like most hobbies (or really anything) here in the US, seems to be primarily about the accumulation of stuff. Notions, needles, yarn, books, etc., etc., etc. And there is very little in this game that is inexpensive. Particularly once you start trying to find materials that were produced organically or sustainably or with some aspect of the earth’s future or the health and well-being of her inhabitants in mind.

While, admittedly, my stash is so small as to be almost non-existant and I like to think of myself as someone who has never been too terribly into the accumulation of things, the truth of the matter is that I struggle against cultural tides just as much as the next person. Living off the grid is still a pipe dream and I am not immune to the marketing messages that bombard me at every turn.

Since knitting became more than just an amusing hobby, keeping up with even a moderate amount of knitting and spinning is a major financial commitment. Every time I find myself with a little bit of cash, I feel I can’t spend it, because I will need it for that next sweater or that book or that [insert knitting purchase here]. Then there are the agonizing decisions such as, if I purchase this book, I won’t be able to afford the yarn for the project, or the needles or something else. Meanwhile the tidal wave of options continues to pour over us and the short-attention-span-syndrome leads to continual project abandonment, or, if you are me, option paralysis. I am afraid to commit to this yarn or that yarn for fear that I will end up not liking it and then I will have no money to get something I really like. Spending money is, generally, an exercise in anxiety for me. So this connection between financial anxiety and knitting has only served to make my fun and enjoyable hobby a big stresser.

In all of this quiet contemplation, I have suddenly come to see very clearly what has been lost to me in my pursuit of knitting. One of my dearest friends in the world told me once that she had made a commitment to less stuff and more doing. In other words, living life was more important than accumulating things. It has taken a little while for the weight of those words to penetrate into the inner sanctum of knitting. Yet, here they are. Somehow the necessity of the stuff has taken precedence over the actual doing.

I know what I want now, and knitting, while it is lovely and will continue to be a part of my life, needs to take a less prominent position in the knittiot’s hierarchy of needs. Or rather, it needs to go back to being that calming, peaceful activity that provided a lovely outlet for stress rather than something that adds to it. Simplicity is the name of the game here.

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!

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…

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.

If there is one thing that becomes more and more apparent the older I get, it is that there is very little in this world that is black and white — shades of gray are certainly the order of the day. Trying to find ways to reduce your impact on the environment is no exception. You make one change with the facts you have. Later you may learn that there are other factors involved that you were not aware of and you realize that you’ve been going around feeling really good about yourself for doing something that isn’t all that great in the long run. So, you change again with your new information and the cycle continues. Life is nothing if not constant evolution.

In response to my last post I received a number of thoughtful and articulate responses that provided some excellent food for thought. They also made me realize that I ought to clarify what I am trying to accomplish for myself a little bit more.

First of all, I want to declare the Village a guilt-free zone. I find, almost without fail, that when the subject of the environment and our impact on it comes up, the response is usually thick with guilt. Whether it is a confession that you don’t recycle and you feel badly about it or a defensive stance that wants to justify or even deny our impact, there is an underlying sense of guilt. I know that I easily fall into that trap as well. However, I have discovered over the years that guilt is not a very useful emotion, it is more like a sticky trap. It seldom helps us make lasting changes and usually is only there to be our whipping post when we inevitably can’t live up to unrealistic expectations (yeah, I know, I’m talking to myself here).

Second of all, this is not about denial. It is about exposure and awareness and exploration. I wanted to define some loose parameters that would help me open some new doors that I hadn’t thought to look behind before. As someone who is a big fan of those gray areas in life, I fully expected in my searching to discover that it is not as simple as saying — chemical bad, plant pretty. And this is exactly the case. As a couple of the commentors pointed out, just because something is “natural” doesn’t mean it is not toxic. Many of the mordants used with natural dyes are quite harmful. This will certainly require a little more in depth analysis before I get started on plant dying. On the other hand, many modern chemical dyes have been manufactured to bond more thoroughly with the fibers so that fewer chemicals actually wash out in the end and are very low in toxicity (appropriately enough they seem to be called low-impact dyes). And while the chemicals are still an issue with large-scale textile mills, the real culprits are the amounts of water and energy required for the process. Yet even in that, strides are being made. In more developed nations, and especially in Europe (where environmental laws appear to be more stringent) and also Australia, the impact has been severely diminished over the last couple of decades.

However, as more and more textile operations move into third world nations with few, if any, environmental laws, they are relying on older methods that require considerably more water and energy and the harsher chemicals are still being used and washed into the water supply. I know I can’t change that, but I don’t want my inability to effect that kind of change to be the reason I don’t try and explore other options. Options such as locally dyed or produced fibers from smaller companies and homebased businesses like Black Bunny Fibers (owned and operated by local Philly yarn goddess Carol of Rosie’s Yarn Cellar and Go Knit in Your Hat) or from small-scale, farm-based operations like Cranberry Moon Farms (I met the shepherd of this farm last year at Rhinebeck and she was just wonderful). These are just a couple examples of dozens upon dozens of smaller businesses that are worth supporting.

Thirdly, this project for me is strictly about cultivating awareness. As I said, I’m certainly not going to change the world. And I’m not trying to here. Well, I guess in a way I am — but only insofar as I am changing myself. As Tara pointed out, given the amount of knitting that gets done and the amount of laundry people do, a much more impactful project would be to get everyone to stop using laundry detergents that are petroleum based. And she is absolutely right. There are far more impactful changes you can make in your life. The purpose of this exercise or experiment was to get you thinking about alternative knitting options — that can mean anything, including working with natural fleeces without dyes, using more organic fibers from larger companies like Cascade or Blue Sky Alpacas, experimenting with plant dyes, supporting local yarn producers, buying from a nearby farm, ordering plant dyed fibers from California or Australia. Really, it is wide open.

I hope this helps clarify what I am thinking. I also sincerely hope that the zeal and excitement and enthusiasm in my last post came across as just that. If there is one thing I dislike, it is self-righteousness in any form. I don’t care if it is religious in nature, environmental, political or anything else. Personal choices are personal and as much as I would sometimes like a soapbox, preaching is just plain obnoxius. I much more prefer dialogue, because it implies that we both (or all) have things to learn from each other. Whenever I get excited about a project like this or find some new tidbit of information that catches my eye, I tend to blather on about it. Mostly what I am looking for is conversation and so I always appreciate all your thoughtful comments.

This weekend while visiting Sophie’s Yarns I had a really good discussion with the owner of the store about what is happening to make knitting a more environmentally friendly pursuit. After all, it was Earth Day and it seemed like a timely discussion. As soon as we got talking I had the feeling that this was one of those moments where you suddenly find yourself walking into a conversation that you are not entirely sure you want to be having, because you somehow know that the result will be thought provoking and will require change. You can see about a hundred miles away that it is going to give you something to think about, something that on some subconcious level you may have been avoiding, but that, no matter what, after this you will never be able to ignore again. And it all started with the most innocent of comments, “Oh, what a gorgeous yarn. What is it?”

The yarn, it turns out, is from Hand Jive Knits — a California based company that is committed to using only natural and plant dyes to produce gorgeous, subtly variegated yarns (and some rovings too, I see from her website). I have been interested in plant dyes since I started spinning, but I just haven’t gotten around to playing with dyes yet. Kool-aid dying grosses me out — I just can’t handle the fake and overpowering fruity smells. I have certainly admired the results others have achieved, but it is not for me. I am a little too freaked out by the toxic dyes to muck about with them in my kitchen, plus, I know when it came time to pour the used solution down the sink I would feel guilty. Yeah, I know, the height of hypocrisy. It isn’t as if I have cried over all the synthetically dyed yarns and clothing and any number of other items I have in my house. Sometimes, despite my best attempts to be a responsible person, I fall into the kind of thinking that seems to say — as long as I don’t have to deal with it, I don’t have to worry about it. It isn’t a concious choice, it is a default one.

I mean, let’s face it, our impact on this earth is insane and if we really wanted to change our lives so that this impact was severely reduced, it wouldn’t much resemble our current lives at all. In fact, I’m sure that for most of us the impact of that kind of change would seem pretty miserable — like the stuff apocalypses are made of. Because responsibility toward the environment that sustains us would mean a severe reduction in the consumer culture, which, at this point, would basically equal a collapse of our whole economic structure. We have created an economy where growth is dependant on wanting more and more and more. This in turn requires more resources to produce it. This in turn puts greater strain on the earth. Then corners are cut and processes “streamlined” so people get what they want faster and cheaper and the cycle goes on and on and on.

I am not trying to sound so bleak here and I don’t want to ignore the positive things that are happening out there (like the rise in organic farming and available produce, local food movements, environmentally responsible corporations, charitable organizations like Heifer International, etc.), but sometimes I just want to cry. And a lot of times, I just have to push this stuff out of my head so I can get up every morning and keep going. Saturday’s post talked about the one-step-at-a-time method of change. As you can see, thinking too much beyond each of those individual steps results in paralysis and despair. Neither of which is very useful. All we can do is one thing at a time and hope they all add up to make enough of a difference.

One of the things I think I have been pretty subconciously blind to (especially when overcome with a love for a certain colorway) is the process that takes a few fibers that have been twisted together and transforms them into something remarkably (breathtakingly, even) colorful. Dyes — especially the bright and vibrant ones that I tend to fall so hard for — are not exactly kind to the earth. Something has to happen to those toxic materials when they are done turning wool, cotton or any other fiber into the colors we love. The sad truth of the matter is that, like everything else, they return to the earth and contaminate the soil, our ground water and so forth and so on.

A couple of months ago I was reading through the book America Knits and in it was a profile of Sally Fox. She is the vision and the brains behind Foxfibre, an organically grown cotton that she slowly and methodically has cultivated over the years to naturally produce various shades of green and brown. They require no toxic dyes and information about purchasing yarn and fibers (and even fabric for you sewers out there) can all be found directly on her website. More companies are starting to carry lines of organic wool, cotton and silk, including Blue Sky Alpaca, among others. Smaller companies like Hand Jive are basing their entire line of products on using plant dyes and suppliers that are committed to teaching natural dying techniques and selling dyes that can all be found in nature (like Aurora Silk) are also out there. These are the kinds of things that excite me and give me hope. But the thing is, without my support and the support of other knitters, they won’t make it.

So, I have been thinking about how I can contribute to the success of companies like these and I have come up with a plan. While I realize that it is not realistic to think that a bunch of knitters are going to suddenly give up on a whole world of yarn dyed and produced traditionally, I thought I might be able to motivate enough people to participate in an extended experiment that would expose us to more organically grown and naturally dyed yarns and fibers. And what better time than the summer to familiarize ourselves with some of that organic cotton and hemp and to experiment with some of the natural dyes that can be found right in our backyards. Thus the seed of an idea was planted and it has grown rather quickly.

So, without further ado, I invite you to join me in a Summer of Knitting Naturally. I realize, of course, that Maryland is coming up in just a couple of weeks and I felt it wouldn’t make any sense to start this until after the event. So, my thought is that it will be a three month committment taking us through June, July and August. The guidelines are simple — you set your own goals. Everyone is at a different space in their lives about what they can do, so you decide what is manageable for you. Do you want to focus on knitting or spinning with more organic fibers? Do you want to learn how to dye yarn using plants? Never tried hemp before, but always wanted to? Now is the time. Knitting Naturally can take many forms, and what will work best for you is completely up to you and your imagination.

Every week I will be posting information on fiber-related companies that are doing great things for the earth and where their products can be purchased. I will also be experimenting with some spinning of new fibers, including *gasp* some of that FoxFibre cotton and maybe a little hemp while we are at it. I will also be doing some dying with plants in my kitchen and I promise to document the entire process and let you know what I’ve learned.

For those who are interested, please leave a comment (with a valid e-mail address in the e-mail field). Remember, this is all about baby steps. Make a realistic, manageable goal that you know you can stick with, but also make one that takes you just outside your comfort zones and exposes you to new things in the world of knitting. My sweetie is going to be working up a button for the venture, which I will hopefully be able to post in a couple of days. I look forward to hearing from you!