the coat that didn't want to be photographed

a garment's avowal

Today’s post begged to be recorded so I decided to give it try. My rhymes and dulcet tones will not be to everyone’s taste, but sometimes a gal just has to experiment: with voice, with verse, with point of view.¹ For the full experience you’ll still need to look at the images below, but perhaps you can scroll while listening? Or just look at the pics and skip the word business altogether. Whatever works.

It’s not that I’m timid.

It’s not that I’m shy.

I just don’t like the limelight—though it’s hard to say why. ²

I’m drapey and quirky and ancient and new—

a living collection of skills as they grew.

I’m also quite cozy, with colors galore,

so you’ll never find something like me at a store.³

You can check out my details (to that I’ll agree)—

—and you’ll see that I’m awesome: a frolic, a spree.

I’m just freaked out by posing, by faking a smile—

for in flat-fabric photos I lose all my style.

I’m too much of a muchness—a hodgepodge, a stew.

(At least that’s how it feels when I’ve all sides in view.

Plus, I always imagine there are those who will frown,

on the many loose ends we will never stitch down).

See—my vibe isn’t trendy or tidy or sleek—

—and I’ll never (not ever), be mistaken for chic.

I’m garment of action, of dog-centric fun—

—for wearing outside in the snow and the sun.

I’m for weaving⁴ and knitting and rhyming and books—

—for living and loving and losing my looks.

Made of half-baked ideas (what-ifs from the past)—

I’m a coat for the future and well-stitched to last.

So please wear me and use me; we’ll make a good team—

—and if I get a bit grubby?

Well—I wash like a dream.⁵

1. I have a sneaking suspicion that this post is the direct result of reading Dr. Seuss books to my granddaughter…

2. In almost every photo I tried to take the coat was out of focus, off the edge of the camera frame, badly backlit, obscured by sun glare—or something! Apparently ki really only likes to be photographed while being worn. And even then, as you can see in the video, the coat and I were out of the frame more than we were in it. But since the point of everything is usually Beryl anyway, that is probably how she and ki planned it.

3. This pair of phenomenal crocheted Monarch Caterpillars was made by my dear and crazy talented friend Vicki who (among other things), designed the Hoodie version of my Somewhat Slanted Sweater and did the initial layout for this coat—a layout that changed as I stitched but which nevertheless was both a jumping off point and a project anchor. I finished the coat just as she finished the caterpillars this past weekend while with a group of friends at our 19th annual Spinning Retreat on the Camas Prairie.

4. Monday, 2 December—I’m doing a live Youtube tapestry chat with the ever-fabulous Rebecca Mezoff! It’s free and you don’t even have to register—just click the link above and you’ll be there. 2 PM Eastern, 1PM Central, 12PM Mountain, 11 AM Pacific. For other time zones, best to check

We’ll talk about all things tapestry with a particular focus on Fringeless, our on-line Four Selvedge Warping Class and (possibly?) our dogs. If you’re there you also get to ask questions and find out about the discount code for Fringeless (and Rebecca’s other classes) as 2 December is the date of her once-a-year Fyber Monday sale.

5. In my endless quest to save water (my town depends on a deep and complicated aquifer whose level goes down every year), I rarely take baths. When I do however, it’s always great to find a second use for the water: putting it on the garden, scrubbing the kitchen floor or washing the new garment I’ve just (sort of) completed.

As for the dryer—while I always dry woolen garments flat and prefer to line/rack dry the rest of my clothes, a little fluffy fulling seemed to be what this hodge-podge of a coat wanted, so I decided to experiment. Not sure it made that much of a difference (it wasn’t in there very long as I wasn’t interested in actual felting), but afterwards it was nice and fluffy and finished drying pretty quickly. Interestingly, even as each of the myriad wool types and knitting styles responded to this treatment in their own way, the process did seem to help unify the garment.

Also, in several of the photos (and most obviously the last where Beryl’s nose seems almost to touch it), you can see a tall brown segmented ceramic object. It is, alas, the remains of what once was an eight foot ceramic palm tree, a sculpture of sorts that (along with a ten foot steel pink flamingo), came with this house when we bought it in 1989. A number of years ago there was a huge wind storm and we worried all night about the fence, the lilacs, the fruit trees and the big fir right beside my studio—but when we awoke the only damage was to the palm: cement filling crumbled, inner rebar bent, and huge clay leaves smashed on the ground. For whatever reason, we have never removed the stump.