Honestly, it doesn't take much.
A compelling book1 (largish print recommended),
a distaff loaded with fleece—
— and a familiar spindle.
Also maybe a camera of some sort (for once carefully nestled in a stand to prevent untoward accidents).
Altogether, one of many fine ways to spend a hot summer day.
Fine, at any rate, until someone has an idea.
Personally I think it was the yarn.
Determined not to be one more skein in a slowly growing pile, I like to imagine these freshly plied yards calling for collective action from the others. There is, after all, a fair bit of of energy stored in all that twist.
Of course the idea could also have been Beryl’s. After three months together she seems to have a solid idea of what a good life includes,
and is getting better and better at making not-so-subtle suggestions.
Whatever the impetus, I unexpectedly found myself assembling the ingredients for a loom,2
—winding a warp,
—threading the rigid heddle,3
—and in no time at all,
—I was back in the dappled light making cloth instead of yarn.
A day slipped by.
and then another
and one more after that— for even with care, days can fill up with with things that involve dreams of yarn if not yarn itself.
Also, working at 12 epi instead of 15 meant I had to beat gently to keep things balanced lest this open cloth suddenly go weft faced on me —and this is not tapestry.
Anyway, with daytime temperatures in the 90s who wants to move quickly if she doesn’t have to? 4
But even at a measured pace I reached the end of the warp all too soon.
And I can’t complain about that any more than I can complain about being “made” to begin, for the finished cloth is lovely,
— supple, soft and enticing—5 and I much appreciate the idea, whosoever put it into my head.
Except— oh me oh my, what is going to happen next?
Remember to comment with the button above rather than by hitting reply for if you choose the latter I won’t see your lovely words. Thanks.
A Walk on the Beach by Joan Anderson about her remarkable friendship with Joan Erikson
Specific info and instructions for this hybrid approach to backstrap weaving are in my graphic guide Backstrap Dialogues.
I’ve been using this particular paper clip to thread my heddles since 2016 when I began weaving on a backstrap loom, and I’m devoted to it. Do you have odd makeshift/permanent tools to which you’re attached?
One of the great things about having once spent a number of years working physically hard outside in the summer is that a person can REALLY appreciate not having to. For even though most of that work was decades ago (at least for me), the sound of an ice cube in a glass—nay, the luxury of having a refrigerator—still fills me with amazement and delight. (And just the teensiest bit of guilt that I am not wielding a shovel or an ax with sweat pouring down my spine).
Also — yes, speaking of sweat, I am wearing a thickish sweater in this video. I needed it earlier when the temps were in the 60s and once strapped into the loom I was probably too engrossed to exchange it for a lighter one till later.
A gentle wash in Eucalan, dried on the line, then lightly steam pressed, and the fabric is ready for…???…??? At the the moment, however, it is rolled up quietly in waiting with the tabby-tapestry houndstooth of a few weeks ago, and other woven swaths. I wonder what they are collectively cooking up?
ps. Apologies for you non-video people for all the moving pictures in this post. Most show just what the still image implies: shadow spinning, winding skeins into quills,, winding a warp, shadow weaving, weaving in the flesh, and unwinding at the end. Nothing dramatic happens—indeed, all very slow and quiet so you don’t miss a thing if you skip right over them….
Your updates are a treasured part of my week Sarah. Thank you so much for your generosity sharing your life with the rest of us!
That frog! ❤️🐸