Welcome/Bienvenue

Yesterday was Canada Day. For us, it was extra special because it was the first year that we celebrated it as Canadians. For me personally, it was even more special because I share my birthday with Canada, so each of us marked the beginning of a new year yesterday.

As I was wandering around the yard yesterday morning, pulling up weeds in the flower garden (many) and looking for new seedlings in the garden (few), our neighbor's daughter, who is three, came over carrying a bag with some cake and a card in it. The card was congratulating us on becoming Canadians and the cake was to help us celebrate. It was so kind and thoughtful and touching - I was surprised how moved I felt by the gesture of welcome.

Then again, Canadians are a welcoming lot. Because they don't have the burden of living in a country that is an empire, they don't have the bitterness or cynicism that goes along with it. Their gestures to celebrate their country, that is to say, my country, don't feel ironic or filled with a kind of threatening, self-righteous blind patriotism, which is so often how I feel about such efforts in the US. When I looked at the Canadian flag on the card and I felt...happy.

When I try to explain what is happening in the US to my fellow Canadians, or when I try to engage them in a conversation about US politics of any kind, I always get the same reaction from people here. It is almost hard to describe. They aren't bored exactly, but they really seem like they just don't want to get into it. All the mess, particularly of the last seven years - the wars, the arrogance, the self-inflicted chaos - is not something to be spoken of in polite society, and while they may make some sympathetic noises, they prefer to change the subject. I really haven't been able to understand why no one wants to engage in it.

Perhaps it is the politeness thing. Canadians are famously polite and our experiences, even with bureaucrats, even at Motor Vehicles Registration!, have born that out. But it is more than that. Perhaps it is that Canadians have enough space around them - only 30 million of them (us) in a space as large as the US - to see things more clearly. People here look south at all the madness and ask, what ARE they doing down there? well, not really our business to get involved...

Then again, I could be full of sh*t.

In any case, I felt a real pang of pride that I could associate myself with this country that values peace over war and needs knitters for very real reasons.

A Whole Lot of Weather Going On

A few days ago I posted some rather lame images of flowers. Perhaps some were thinking how terribly ordinary and not terribly interesting they were. Perhaps I was thinking that too. But you see, it seems nothing short of a miracle that those flowers are here, blooming.



I know that, in NYC, everyone is sweltering in the heat and humidity, but here, it is something different.



I wouldn't trade it, no my dear. As someone, clearly much wiser than myself, said when I was commenting on how it was amazing that I was wearing my winter coat and it being almost July, "It's the weather we have, so enjoy it."

The first time I went to the Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY, I didn't know how to spin. But, the first thing I bought there was two ounces of tussah silk/baby camel (50/50%) roving that was so soft it almost hurt. I didn't know how to make it into anything and I wasn't sure that I needed to, so wonderful was it, just as it was.

Three months later, I had a spinning wheel and I was learning to spin. I knew that this roving was for a later date, when my skills were better and would allow me to turn it into what it seemed to be telling me it needed to be. So, I tucked it away and forgot about it.

Last week, when we were teaching a couple of friends to spin, I was looking for a variety of fibres to show as examples of how different they can be, I came across the little bag with the silk/camel in it. Now I'm ready, I thought.

Yesterday, after all the laundry and painting and cooking and cleaning were done, I started to spin it. I set my wheel on a fairly fast speed and, using the long draw technique, tried to spin it as thin as I could. The long draw technique means that you get some twist into the fibre then you draw it back and the twist pulls out an even, usually thin, strand. I am not an expert on it but I am guessing that the length of the fibres can make a difference - longer being better in this case. I draw with my right hand and with my left I can pinch or not to control the twist.

At first, I was a little rusty and I was gripping the fibre with my right hand in a death grip and I noticed that I had stopped breathing. I wanted a very thin thread and that meant that I was always on the verge of having no thread if it stretched too thin. I was trying to be poised to catch it if it seemed to be about to disappear through the oriface. After a little while, I realized that I was tense and frowning and sweating, so I made a conscious effort to relax.

A weird thing happened. When I relaxed my hand and breathed naturally, the fibres just sang--they drew out a good 30" or more, perfectly even. The less I thought, the more lovely the yarn. I was really only using one hand, barely touching the yarn with my left hand. I was still highly alert to any changes in how it felt but I was totally relaxed into the way it acted. It was pure poetry. Of course, if I suddenly started being conscious of what I was doing in any kind of analytical way, it all headed south again.

It reminded me of how one of the new spinners we were teaching caught on immediately. She was making lovely yarn from nearly her first moment. Then, she started thinking about what she was doing and she had a terrible time. It was as if her hands knew exactly what to do and only when her mind entered in with its questions and ideas did she start to mess up.

Shawn and I have a theory that spinning causes some chemical change in your brain, which is why it is so addictive. While we may laugh about it being less the new yoga and more the new crack, I think spinning does do something to your brain. I would compare it to calligraphy or archery for the way it requires a certain level of physical coordination married to a mind that is perfectly alert but perfectly empty too.

Of course, with calligraphy and archery, you don't get to handle 50/50% camel/silk roving or a deliciously coloured, hand-dyed BFL roving, or collect a stash of merino fleece that would cause you to strip off all your clothes and roll around naked in it (not that I am doing that or anything. I swear!).

In any case, I'm sure those other practices have their charms, too.

A Capital "R" for Romance

Since spinning has completely engulfed my life (at least when I am not scraping off old wallpaper - I finished the second wall yesterday, thank you very much. Just 156,000 deft movements and five hours later...), I have seen the need for another fly wheel for my dearest darling, my sweet Sue, my Majacraft Suzie Pro. Although the Suzie Pro has a delta oriface (a triangluar piece of heavy wire rather than a traditional tube-like oriface) which allows for many sizes of yarn to move through it, one still must use the little wire slide-y thing (pretty sure that is the technical name) that feeds the yarn on to the bobbin. When I make those funky yarns with all sorts of slubby bits, I have to keep squeezing them through that little wire slide-y thing or everything gets jammed up. And, god love'em, those Majacraft bobbins are big but they still fill quickly with that kind of yarn.

So it is that I have been looking longingly at the Wild Flyer Kit online over the past few weeks. I told myself that I needed to sell some more yarn before investing in yet another piece of spinning equipment but each time I had to stop and feed a lump of wool through that damn slide-y thing, visions of the Wild Flyer danced in my head.

Then, in speaking with Dan, he made mention of getting me something for my birthday, which is fast approaching. Yesterday, a light went off in my head connecting these two thoughts: wild flyer and birthday. So, I emailed information about the Wild Flyer to Dan as a gentle "suggestion" of something he just might possibly want to consider if he were considering getting me a gift. You know, just on the off chance.

He told me he made sure to ask the shop to pick out the most romantic Wild Flyer they had in stock.

The Sound of One Hand Scraping

Since The House Museum is on coast mode this summer, I have the opportunity to do some additional repairs and fix-ups around the house that would be impossible if I had visitors in and out. My first project is to get Dan and my bedroom in a better state of repair.

When we bought the house in 2002, it had been sitting empty for about five years, and previous to that, it was serving as a woodworking studio for the owner. The space we use as our bedroom was the area used to do the woodworking so the walls and floors are quite dinged up. We managed to clean up the years of sawdust and put back in a wall that used to divide the space into two rooms (originally a dining room and bedroom if previous wall coverings are an indication). Other than that general clean-up we left the room as it was because the more public spaces of the museum demanded my attention. So it was that, six years later, that our walls were still full of holes and covered in peeling wallpaper and paint.



A couple of days ago, I moved our bed and much of our accumulated stuff into the dining room. May we take a moment in our narrative to show a picture of the colour story in our dining room. It makes me weak at the knees it is so beautiful. Just look at all those colours!



Ok, I'm recovered now.

Yesterday, myself and my two able helpers got out the warm water and scrapers and started scraping off the old wallpaper. There were two layers. The first was a vinyl coated paper that peeled off quite easily but below that was an older wallpaper that was not quite as kind. Actually, I really love the older paper but it was in such poor condition that it had to come off.



Isn't it sweet? I wish I could have kept it. Actually I tried to see if I could find a new wallpaper that would be reminiscent of this one but...have you looked at contemporary wallpapers lately? Not my cup of tea and astoundingly expensive. Suddenly, scraping looked more attractive.

The tricky thing is that the walls are not plaster or sheetrock, they are made of a substance called "tintest" which is a kind of glorified cardboard that is almost impossible to repair once there is a hole in it. But I am a true believer in the power of paint to make everything look new again.

Here is our assignment for today:

Small Things

When I got up this morning and looked out the front windows, I saw a red fishing boat head down the bay, out from the fish plant in Curling. The morning was a bit grey so the red of the boat stood out brightly against the quiet colours of the water. A few moments later, I heard a deep horn sounding. The first time I thought it might have been the papermill in Corner Brook - they blast a horn blast at each shift change and sometimes the sound reaches as far as Gillams. But this horn kept going. Finally I checked back at the window and saw that the fog had become so thick that the bay was no longer visible - even my neighbor's house across the street had lost its sharp edges. Then, just barely visible, I saw the red hull of a large container ship heading up towards Corner Brook. This ship must be about 50 times larger than the fishing boat and still I could only just make it out. I know the people who go out to fish know the water and any local hazards very well and, fog being a regular visitor to the Bay of Islands, they are no doubt quite used to navigating in it. But still, one has to admire the skills and courage of the people who get their living out on the bay.

It makes my own little world seem yet more comfy, not to mention, dry. Our lives have pared down from the barely constained chaos that is our experience in NYC. No rushing up the street to the subway, no cramming into a crowded car and jostling our way into Manhattan, then walking fast to our destination, nearly always late. Indeed, no real destinations at all. For the first week or so, I would wake up each morning with a worry that we were late for something until finally I realized, there was no something, nothing to rush out for. After eight months of I-wish-we-could-stay-homeschooling, we are experiencing the luxury of time, the thrill of boredom, the excitement of finding fascination in small things.

Sources

Inspiration is everywhere these days.

The Missionary Position

I know I am taking some chances with that title--especially with those 6 guys from Morocco and Iran who keep checking out my website using the search words "love fotos."

Yesterday Shawn and I spent two hours helping two friends learn to spin. One of women had once mentioned in conversation that she would like to learn and I bugged her...I mean...followed up with her on a regular basis until we made a date to really sit down and do it. There was a moment yesterday when I realized that, while I do enjoy teaching people to knit and gladly do so whenever someone asks me, I have something of a missionary zeal when it comes to spinning. I can't really put my finger on why I think the world would be a much better place if we all spent a little time each day at our spinning wheels, but at least I do have some illustrious precedents (think: Gandhi).

When I think of it, I realize that the experience of taking a dirty, greasy, sometimes poopy sheep fleece, washing it, drying it, dyeing it, carding it and spinning it (and then knitting it, if you must), is all about moving from the chaotic to the sublime. And it is an experience that requires huge amounts of patience, a challenging skill to learn at the best of times. I may not be able to stop the ice caps from melting or prevent a child starving for want of a few grains of rice, I may not ever convince Dick Cheney that war is not the answer, but I can do this. Spinning as metaphor for everything.

So my apologies to all whom I have bored with long soliloquies about the advantages of one wool over another or the concept of navajo plying. I know shoving a ball of fleece under your nose and saying "just feel it! touch it!" may not be winning me friends or influencing people, but like every missionary, I am a bit overly enthusiastic. I do appreciate your patience.

Dear Binny

Thank you so much for checking out the blog - I love to know that someone, anyone, is out there taking it in. Regarding your comment on my post listing my Top Ten Favourite Books...you are so right! I should have mentioned the unsurpassable A Ripple of Laughter (the Greg and Kara Story). It is a rare find, however, being an edition of only one handmade book so it may be a little obscure for the average reader. For those who are unfamiliar with this great tome, it is the story of two educational reformers who meet over a ripple of laughter that goes around the table at a gathering of teachers (this is hot stuff!). They go on to marry and have children and move to Arkansas after being accused of a crime. I won't spoil the ending by revealing it here (also, even the author, who is standing right next to me at the moment, can't remember it). ANYWAY, I laughed, I cried, I put it on our second quarter homeschooling report to the Dept. of Ed under "Literature". If you read only one book about educational reformers on the lam, choose "A Ripple of Laughter"!

And...um...how literate can you be, Binny, if you think Old Gregg is a book? I think you have been drinking a little too much of that creamy Bailey's.

Kindest Regards,

My Fair Isle

Introducing the Chocolate Screamers!

Their first song to go public - She's Got the Whole Pool in Her Ear. Check it out!

When the Hoo-Doo Trance Takes Me

I was on fire...





I mordanted .5 lbs of BFL roving in tin and another .5lbs in alum, along with .5 lbs of soysilk. Check out that yellow! That is osage with the tin mordant. A keeper. The lighter yellow is the soysilk, the deep purple/red is a mixture of cochineal and brazil wood with the tin mordant.

While I was burning up the kitchen with the joo-joo magic of plant dyes, I thought I needed some strong orange so I did use a wee bit of kool aid on another .5 lb of merino. What can I say? Sometimes it gives you the results you crave. Then I made fast and loose with some onion skins that I had collected over the past weeks. I didn't even mordant the yarn. Yee-ow! The dye bath was a lovely colour but it wasn't really translating to the yarn so I thought I would add just a touch of iron, which is a mordant that is usually added afterwards. With a look of horror on my face, I watched my golden russet colour change to this:



Holy moly. But all was well when I realized that it was dyeing the wool a greenish/brown colour that is actually really lovely. In fact, it is definitely another keeper. This photo doesn't really do it justice - the colour is quite rich.



All in all, a good morning's work.

Do Not Adjust Your Set

Those colours are real!

Chop Wood, Carry Water

Lately I have been struck by the difference between urban and rural physical activities. In Sunnyside, we have a gym literally in our backyard. I think I have a picture here somewhere. Here is our backyard in mid-May looking absurdly lush:



See the vine-covered brick wall? That is actually the back of a gym. I go there regularly as a way of keeping the wolves of gravity and heart disease at bay (and I like a good sweat). But it is full of machines to artificially create what was once a normal part of daily life so it always feels a bit weird. I won't even go into the amount of electricity that place uses between all the machines and TVs, stereo systems, lights, etc.. This routine is supplemented by a large amount of walking because, in NYC, walking is king. The one comment always heard from tourists is about how much they walked, which is I suppose revealing of how much people in other places don't walk anymore. Life in NYC can have many rhythms and one of the strongest is the walker's rhythm. It is easy to get caught up in the wave of pedestrians and walk miles without being conscious of "working out" or anything at all except the flow of the street. It is one of the greatest pleasures of city life, in my opinion.

When I think about leaving that behind I have a moment of panic. What will happen when we come to Gillams with no gym and where it takes an act of personal virtue and strong will to walk anywhere? But I really don't have to worry because rural life has its own rhythm and requires its own kind of physical labour. For one, I have my non-electric washing machine that requires carrying buckets of water to and fro and 200 agitations/load. Then we have our woodstove that requires kindling to be chopped, although I freely admit that I get Dan to do most of that work since I am a terrible woodsman. To keep the grass trimmed, I use a push mower and clippers, and given the dandelion situation, this is a full-body workout.

Then there is the garden. I was trying to upload a photo of my garden bed which looks like nothing so much as a recent burial, but blogger won't let me for reasons unknown. In any case, these are the beds in my "lasagna garden", a technique that layers soil and other goodies on top of the hardcore weeds and rocks that masquerade as "soil" here and allow one to grow things like vegetables and flowers. Most of my neighbors have given up on such shocking luxuries because of said weeds and rocks, and they looked askance at me when I started in with the lasagna thing. I had a nice moment yesterday when a couple of them came over to admire my beds and admit that perhaps I wasn't completely insane. I also have another plot of garden that isn't using the lasagna technique - I think of it as my "control" bed in this experiment. This is a bed that is about the size of a queen-sized bed that has taken me two years of tilling and fertilizing to get to the point where I might be able to plant in it. Originally it took me weeks with a pick axe to get the bed started. Then last year, it took a couple of days to till over plus all summer to add compost. But yesterday I was able to go over it with the pick axe in about an hour. For that pleasure, my back is a bit sore and I am reminded of areas of in my shoulder blades that I normally take for granted. And so it goes here in Gillams. No gym, not much regular walking, but just the act of living day to day is a workout.

Apple Blossoms

It is apple blossom time.

BTW: Do Not Squander Your Life

I am stealing a moment from preparations for a visit to THM from two representatives from the Newfoundland government who are coming by this morning. They are visiting the west coast to talk with craftspeople about issues related to their craft and tourism. They wanted to meet with a group of artisans in the Corner Brook area to talk about ideas related to a conference on that topic they are planning for next spring. Shawn generously suggested that THM would be the appropriate place to meet, given that it is all about culture and tourism, and that I now count myself among the craftspeople on the west coast. I have had to get the place in shape in its THM incarnation to some extent, as well as get my yarn and spinning stuff to look a little less like I have been madly grabbing colours and fibres in my wild-eyed spinning binge. I am not quite finished yet but I think it will be ok. Olive has promised to bring her rhubarb/apple muffins and I have just pulled a lemon blueberry coffee cake from the oven, so we can stun them with baked goods if all else fails.

In the meantime, this is my 200th blog post! It calls for some kind of reflection.

How about this. Called the Evening Gatha, I first noticed it as a little sign that is beautifully written in calligraphy and hung over the entrance to the zendo in Brooklyn where I sit zazen. I have long planned to crochet an antimacassar with the last two lines on it. Time swiftly passes by...

Let me respectfully remind you,
life and death are of supreme importance.
Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost.
Each of us should strive to awaken... awaken...
Take heed.
Do not squander your life.

Fermentation

When we returned from Shawn's house yesterday, I discovered that my sourdough starter had finally decided to ferment actively. In fact, so actively that it had overflowed its container and was fermenting down the side of our fridge and on to the floor. Gooey! It was clear that I need to bake bread immediately.



Oh my dears, you won't find this at Sobey's!




With that taken care of, I could again concentrate on yarn...





Things are bubbling up all over!

I knit up the sample I made the other day and it helped me understand how to make the yarn better. The funny thing about these "wild" yarns is that they take a ton of planning and preparation.

Today we head into to Corner Brook to have a minor repair done to our car but more exciting than that is that we will spend our time waiting for the car to be fixed at Shawn's house helping her get acquainted with her new spinning wheel. Never have I hoped more that a car repair will take a good long time!

I've Been Tagged

Patti is the culprit, but since this is my first (aaaww), I am excited to answer the call. So what were those questions...? Oh yes...

What was I doing 10 years ago?
Jasus, I can hardly remember 10 minutes ago, but let's see...I was in the middle of being pregnant with Lucy while chasing around an 18 month old Finnian. I do remember reaching a point where Finn could run faster than me but I don't think I had quite achieved that level of immense pregnancy by June. Other than that I mostly don't remember much, which is the world's way of encouraging you to have more children.

What are the 5 things on my to do list for today (in no particular order)
1. Bake bread and try to get my sourdough starter to be more active. I always get one going in Gillams and every year it takes much longer than the stated four days to really get it to work. I don't know why but it does. I will make a non-sourdough focaccia today, which may be the world's most quick and simple yet tasty bread.
2. Make an appointment at our local bank for when Dan arrives so we can set up joint accounts now that we are officially Landed Immigrants (hooray!!). Bummer about the state of the US dollar, however...
3. "Gently" encourage F&L to do more than sit around in their pjs reading books all day. Humph.
4. Have I said anything about spinning yet? Maybe some carding too. I know, such a party animal!
5. IF there is time among the cooking and cleaning that has gone as yet unmentioned, I will do some yoga led by my new favorite yogi, Shiva Rea. I would drink that woman's bath water!

Snacks I enjoy
Almonds. Dates, if I need a sweet thing. And I do have a less admirable weakness (read: addiction) for potato chips. We are all heavily into the salt and pepper chips that are popular here.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire
Billionaire? That sounds exhausting. I suppose we would travel spontaneously, raise sheep (and hire people to care for them while we travel spontaneously), and work hard to give away all that money.

Places I’ve lived
Burlington, Gloucester, and West Boxford, MA, Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens, NY, Hoboken, NJ, Westerly, RI, Jamaica Plains, MA, Gillams, NL. What can I say? I am a northeast kind of gal.

People I want to know more about
Oh my, I fear most of my favourite online friends don't like this kind of thing! Will I be breaking the chain if I don't tag people? I am worried they will be irritated...so....you know who you are. I want to know more about you! We all do!

Go With the Flow

I know they are sweating bullets in NYC right now but it is cold and rainy here. While my garden is getting nowhere, my spinning continues to be very engaging. I made up a little sample yesterday:


It was kind of pain to have to stop and add the little bits but part of that was not knowing if it would look like what I wanted it to look like. After I put together to wool part, I plied it with crochet cotton - just propped the spool on the lazy kate and started plying. I am pretty happy with the sample so I think I will try to make up a whole skein.


One thing I have noticed in my experiments is that, although I know that certain colours and textures have a certain look that would be popular, if I don't like them, I can't spin them. Or rather, my patience with spinning them is very limited. It is like you know you could write a Harlequin Romance and make money but the process of actually doing it is so forced and unpleasant that it actually can't happen.

Or something like that...

Betwixt and Between

Things are taking shape for the summer - not the shape I anticipated when we drove away last September but something new and different. Last summer I started a conversation with a local Mi'kmaq group about presenting a project at The House Museum that would relate to the history of the North Shore and its inhabitants. I met with a dynamic woman who was very excited about some ideas we brainstormed. An FYI - the North Shore is known as a place where many people have mixed (First Nation/European) blood. This has been a sore point for many, many years with many people, something seen as shameful, and it is only recently that people have started to feel genuine pride in their heritage. I wanted to explore this tension, as well as the way local history has conveniently left out most of the Mi'kmaq story.

Things were cooking along but somewhere around December, things quieted down. Then, as we prepared to head up in May, I dropped a note to my contact suggesting we get together shortly after my arrival. Silence. It was at this point that I started thinking about what would happen if I had no special project for THM this year. And I started to think about how, in many ways, this would be a lovely thing. The silence of my Mi'kmaq friend was no longer a frustration or mystery but a gift. (Isn't it amazing how a simple shift in your mind can re-shape the world - just a side note, that.)

The fact of the matter is that my intentions in creating THM were born of a set of circumstances that I observed in 1997 and 2001. Now, seven years later, Newfoundland is a very different place. The point of THM was to create a space that blurred boundaries between tourists and locals in hopes of creating a new way of presenting culture. I wanted to offer an opportunity for people normally overlooked in the decisions about what and how to present in the culture to be integral to the process. This need no longer seems so urgent. Indeed, many of those decisions have been made and formalized and the "tourist industry" has grown shockingly quickly in these seven seasons.

I also created THM as a way of blurring the boundaries between art and life in my own life. The house as museum, my entire life as art project, has been a much harder project than I first imagined. My experience of it has been that, by summer's end, I am wiped out from the constant sense of being on public display, or at least potentially, at any moment, being on public display. I would be lying if I said I was not a little tempted to have a summer (after a very busy winter/spring) where I could be a little more private and quiet.

So all signs point to a summer of reassessment and reflection on the purpose of this thing I have made. It is causing me to look afresh at Newfoundland, the North Shore, Gillams. While some of that re-examination has knocked the stars from my eyes, the flip side to it is that I am beginning to feel a re-kindling of what it was that originally compelled me to take up residence in this place. Somehow that interest got a little lost in all the events and brochures and visiting hours. It is reassuring and kind of exhilarating to know it is still there. It makes me feel ok about the fact that not all 30,000 residents of the Bay of Island will be directly involved in my project and it gives me permission to make my house...well...my house. Still an artwork, still an expression of what it is like to be betwixt and between in the culture but just not a tourist attraction.

And then, of course, there is the yarn...

See What an Evening with Shawn Will Do

It is a gorgeous, sunny day today so it is no day to be thinking about things past. No, today is a day to be in the present moment! In my present moment, I am being totally inspired by a book that the gorgeous, sunny Shawn loaned me. It is called Intertwined: The Art of Handspun Yarn, Modern Patterns and Creative Spinning. The author has become well known for her wild yarns spun from the usual suspects: wool, alpaca, etc., but also fabric, beads, buttons, newspaper, springs and washers, you name it. I have never seen such yarn. Some of it seems like it might be unpleasant to knit up (if very fun to make) but many of the projects she makes are just fantasic and fun and very inspiring.

My spinning to date has very much been about improving and adding to my skills, but after reading and looking at this book, I feel ready to break some rules. My first attempt was made as part of the etsyFAST (Fibre Artist Street Team) June challenge, the theme of which is heroes. I chose Elizabeth Goudie. Elizabeth Goudie was among the last generation of women married to trappers in Labrador who had to survive in that harsh environment, often for months at a time with small children, before any modernization came to that part of the province. She also is the only woman, as far as I know, to ever write an autobiography about what that experience was like. To read her story is to be awed by her mental and physical strength as well as her amazing attitude about life. I made her yarn from a wide variety of fibres, all in their natural colours - mostly white to symbolize the snow of Labrador (it is still falling there, btw). I added some browns and greys because her life, like the Labrador landscape, was not all pristine and contained a good dose of hardship and tragedy. I plied it with a bit of sparkle. I wanted to give her a little glamour and glitter after all her hard work.

Here is Elizabeth Goudie's yarn:



But after enlightenment, the laundry, as they say. And so it will be on this sunny day but perhaps there will a moment or two to spin some more. The ideas are flowing fast and furious.

The Three Ps

Well, still without internet over here in Gillams (I am at the Corner Brook Public Library, which I must say is much nicer than our branch in Sunnyside). I am hopeful that, with a little luck from Canada Post, I will be back online within the week but I am not setting my watch by it.

This time away from email and internet has taught me a number of things. One is patience. The hyperspeed of everything internet is addictive and habit-forming. The pace of life without these elements is much, much slower and required a lesson, for me, in patience. Patience while it took a week to "check the lines" to figure out if I could get high speed internet (answer: no), patience while I worked out what my options were, patience when I discovered that Apple in Canada doesn't take American credit cards (I know, I know, aren't they supposed to be cutting edge??). And now patience while I await the delivery of a little piece of equipment that had to be mailed via NYC. All this patience led to my second P.

Productivity. When you are not checking email a dozen times a day and getting sucked into the sticky world wide web, you have lots and lots of time to do other things! Amazing! So, I have been dyeing and spinning and knitting like a mother bitch (with apologies to Mighty Boosh fans). I just mailed the remaining skeins to fill the order with the craft council shop in St. John's, I have skeins awaiting for etsy, I have a bucket of fleece ready to spin. Plus I have been working on some prototypes of knit items that I hope to sell at a small craft fair in late July here. Busy as freaking bee.

And the final P: privacy. Each year, when we make our way north, the experience of place takes on a different flavour. This year, with its numerous frustrations, has given me a more nuanced look at what is life here. In addition to the internet snafu, I have been wrestling with some issues related to The House Museum and its direction for this summer. I would like to explore them further here but I will say that it is possible and even probable that THM will have a very limited season this year for several reasons. The more that this possibility takes shape, the more I grow attached to the idea of having a private summer. A summer where people are not dropping in at any moment for a tour. After a busy winter and early spring, this idea is quite attractive. But, as I say, it is complicated by several factors. For the time being, I am spinning and knitting and enjoying the distinct lack of car tires crunching on the gravel in the driveway.

Hope to talk with you soon!

hello, hello

No, we haven't fallen off the face of the earth. We are just experiencing a complete lack of internet access. I hope it will be resolved soon as I have lots of cool plant-dyed fleece to show off.

Can You Stand It?

A CD with photographs of The Knitted Mile just arrived from Shannon Stratton, one of the curators of Gestures of Resistance. Her photos were so different from mine (given that she was photographing while I was laying the piece down on the road), that I feel I must post just a few here. I don't care what the naysayers say, looking at the photographs brought back to me just how lovely, poignant, funny, strange it was that cold morning in Dallas.

Books, I Like'em

Rather than bore you to tears with tales of packing and racing around trying to pretend that all the loose ends of a life can be tied up neatly in a couple of days, I will share something completely different. Browsing through some blogs, I came across one by a person who lives in Sunnyside: Reading Is My Superpower. I love that name. Anyway, she listed her top twenty all-time favorite books of fiction. While I liked her list, I think I have some differing ideas, although I also realized that I have a very hard time coming up with twenty books. So, here is my list of my ten all-time favorites:

1. Middlemarch by George Eliot. There simply is no better book ever written. Sorry, but it's true.

After this they are in no particular order of favourite-ness.

2. Bleak House by Charles Dickens (I also recommend the BBC dramatization of this book)
3. Stuart Little by E.B. White (actually, just about anything by E.B. White)
4. Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind by Shunryu Suzuki (not really fiction but a very good book)
5. Austerlitz by W. G. Sebald
6. Moby Dick by Herman Melville
7. A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh
8. The Grey Islands by John Steffler
9 and 10. The whole series of books by Ngaio Marsh, P.G. Wodehouse and Dorothy Sayers

I never realized I was such a literary Anglophile until just now.

And there is a whole category of books that are only eluded to in that list and this is, novels written for ages 9-12: The Melendy stories, The Wheel on the School, From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. I could go on.

What's your list? Patti? Shawn? I would ask Helen but I know she doesn't like that.

Shipping Off

Here is my very first order of yarn being sent to the Craft Council shop in St. John's. Actually it is part of the order--the rest will be shipped after we get to Gillams (and I spin it up!). It takes a bit of work to prepare it to be sent. Besides the dyeing and spinning part, I need to measure the yardage, which I can do fairly easily because each wrap around my niddy noddy is equal to two yards. I just count up the strands and double it. Then I weigh the skein and finally I measure the number of wraps/inch. This allows me to say with certainty what the weight is (worsted, DK, bulky, etc.). All that information gets written on the label, which is wrapped around the yarn and taped. Now it is ready to go.

Some of the skeins are newly spun and some had been listed in my etsy shop for several months but had not sold. I have discovered something about selling on etsy--it is harder to sell yarn that is more subtle in its colouring. I have a couple of skeins of yarn that I think are gorgeous but somehow the photographs don't do it justice and it just doesn't leap off the screen at you. I have faith that people looking for yarn at the shop will be able to recognize its beauty in person.

I wish them farewell with the knowledge that we will arrive on the island at about the same time, albeit on different coasts

You Must Be Mistaken

Over at Enchanting Juno, she got talking about stash and that led to talking about being open to making mistakes and forging ahead anyway.

Yesterday, I watched this video about education and creativity. It wasn't anything new to this unschooler but lovely to hear and to feel the reinforcement of ideas that are so often seen as going against the tide or just plain crazy. One of the speaker's main points was that children are not afraid of mistakes: they just go with it and correct as they go and sometimes they come up with something great. He was saying that creativity is about not fearing mistakes.

I am a lucky person - my stock and trade is creativity. As someone once said, you become an artist because it is impossible to do anything else. And if you can do something else, do it! You will be much happier (I would add, and richer and have less stuff cluttering your house). I think the idea that one would be happier NOT being an artist is related to the way mistakes go hand in hand with creativity.

Mistakes are funny things, really. I remember, back in my painting days, knowing in my gut from the first brush stroke - the very first one! - whether or not a painting would work or would suck. And those paintings that were doomed from brush stroke one were so infuriating every time because, every time, I would keep going, knowing that it sucked but believing I could make it right. No amount of paint applied and removed could ever fix it. I know other painters who have described the same experience. Now that I am no longer painting, I have had the experience knitting. Not exactly from the first stitch, but definitely from the first row, I know that the piece just isn't right . I keep adjusting and convincing myself that somehow I can make it work but really I should just chuck it and start something else.

So why do we persist, even when all the signs are clear that this one is doomed? I wonder if this is how George Bush feels about his Iraq caper? He started it, it sucked from the very first moment, but he is sure, sure!, that if he just adjusts this and twists that, it will all work out in the end.

Unlike Bush's war, a failed painting or knitting project is something we can laugh about eventually. We can try again, start fresh or, even better, transform the mistake into something unexpected and new and wonderful. And that's the beauty of mistakes and creativity. It is the only way, the only painful, humbling, irritating way to inch towards something new.

The Pressure Is On

We are winding things up here in NYC and we are casting our thoughts northward. Every year at this time I start to have regrets and doubts about what I am doing and why. Suddenly there are 1000 fascinating things happening here that we will miss and the idea of shifting households seems overwhelming. Meanwhile, I reviewed our next week's calendar and I don't really see a group of hours in which to pack and, oddly enough, Wee Ball Yarns has suddenly become popular in a very modest way but enough that I am wondering when I will be able to squeeze in some serious spinning time. My cup is spilling over. Big time. This mad rush of activity mingled with anxiety happens every year. Yet, somehow, as soon as we get past my mom's house in Massachusetts, which is the usual northern limits of our Sept - May travels, the adventure begins and the excitement of another season in Newfoundland takes hold. That first grilled cheese sandwich with a side of fries is the signal: Newfoundland here we come!

Dressing Up Mutton to Look Like Lamb

That phrase is a saying I heard spoken by Australian guy I met in Rome in 1986 and it has stuck with me ever since. I even used it as a the title of a piece I made in which I covered a sitting room in knitwear. But it comes back to me now because of this item:



Isn't it lovely? I thought so too when I saw the ad on craigslist. A spinning wheel for $50! Great!, I thought, I'll buy it and give it away to someone who has been dying for a wheel. I knew it was old and therefore not a great production wheel, but for $50, who cares. Someone out there needs a wheel and I was prepared to give it to them.

I drove out to NJ to pick it up on Saturday morning. The woman who was selling it only knew that it belonged to her grandmother for at least 50 years. She was thrilled it would find a happy home with someone who could use it. She almost forgot to even take the money for it.

It is at this point that a certain surprise registered with me at how light the spinning wheel was. I have two wheels and they both, while not heavyweights, are substantial enough that I don't enjoy carrying them around much further than from my dining room to my living room i.e. about 5 feet. This one I could lift with one hand. Hmmmmm....

Nevertheless, I got the wheel home and excitedly put a drive band on it (there was none), happily noting that it was a double drive. Cool. I eagerly whipped out a bit of roving and sat down. It was squeaky, but no problem, a little oil will fix that in a jiffy. The single treadle was a little fussier than what I am used to, but in a few minutes I had mastered it. Ok, now to thread the leader yarn. There was already yarn on the bobbin so I just hooked it through the first hook and...what a minute.

Take a closer look:



Notice anything missing? No orifice! Nada, niete, none. This was quite baffling to me. There was no evidence that an orifice once existed. It simply never was. Like any good 21st Century spinner, I immediately sent a note to my spinning email list and what I learned has just blown my mind. Apparently, and are you sitting down for this? Apparently, there was a trend popular in the 1950s and 60s for people to buy purely decorative spinning wheels to put in their houses. That's right, spinning wheels that closely resembled the real thing but don't actually work. And all evidence points to this being one of those. What is maddening is that it is thisclose to really functioning.

So much for my good samaritan impulses. Although I also learned in my research that there is someone who has figured out a way to retrofit a working flywheel and bobbin (with orifice) onto these...er...items, I feel my investment in this one is finished. I listed it on freecycle and almost immediately got a response from someone who is sure they can make it work. (I was really clear that it was non-functioning).

Hope springs eternal.

May Day Schedule

1. Finn and Lucy go to gymnastic/dance class

2. Walk to park

3. Make flower garlands

4. Maypole dance.

We are actually celebrating our May Day with a maypole dance. It brings to mind one of my all-time favorite movies, The Wicker Man (1973 version, please).



The '70s were great...

Get Out Your #2 Pencils!

In accordance with New York State Regulation 100.10, Finn and Lucy are taking the PASS test today. This is the requirement for an end-of-year assessment for home educators beginning when the student is in grade 4 and must happen every other year until high school. The test was specifically created for homeschoolers so it has some nice features, like not being timed, but it is still a standardized test and has all the limitations and nonsense associated with standardized tests.

Yesterday we did the "placement" portion of the test in which the child takes a short preliminary test to determine which level of the main test they should take. In a weird way, it was kind of a relief to discover that they both did about exactly as I expected. Weird only in the sense that I completely disagree with the need for these tests and think they test only the ability to take tests but there I was, feeling good that they did quite well and that their errors were what I imagined they might be--errors of sloppiness not lack of comprehension of material.

I guess a childhood filled with Iowa tests and SATs and such is hard to shake.

But sshhh....must get back to filling in little bubbles.

Smack Down

"Give me a lot of yarn because I can knit garter stitch in my sleep." Such was my boast to one of Dan's co-workers who was coordinating the knitting of a baby blanket for a new baby who has joined the CTA family. Said blanket is a collection of seven 5" wide garter stitch stripes that get stitched together--perfect for a group project. It is made up of squares of colour that are alternated in a charming pattern of lighter to darker colours.

I received the yarn on Friday and proceeded to knit the oh-so-familiar strip of garter stitch with growing confidence that I would finish my contribution in one weekend and claim my prize as Most Fabulous Knitter. No amateur, no, not me.

Garter stitch in my sleep? Fabulous Knitter? Oh my dears, can you guess what I discovered as I reached for the last colour of the first stripe, all puffed up with accomplishment? Here's what I found: the colour "darker blue" and "navy" are not one and the same. And further, that "darker blue" (which I knit in "navy") was the second square of colour from the beginning. The one I needed to be knitting now, a good 25" later is the "navy" not the "darker blue" that I had in my hand.

Can you hear the knitting goddess laughing over the sound of rip-it, rip-it, rip-it?

Moses Supposes

his toeses are roses....



Look! Toe up socks! And, although you can't see it here, I am working on two socks simultaneously! On two circular needles! A miracle of nature, almost. Actually, I owe it all to the brilliant Helen, who willingly (and brilliantly) taught me this stunning technique last Tuesday. She did it all while also providing Finn and Lucy with more information about math relationships that I have done all year long. Gotta love such a full service knitting group.

Lion Brand highlights The Knitted Mile

Lion Brand Yarns has made a blog entry about The Knitted Mile. View it here.

Thanks to Helen for pointing it out to me!

If you want to see more pictures of The Knitted Mile, visit these posts:

In progress

The stripe just before it leaves NYC

Installation Day

Clean Your Bowl

A few weeks ago, the writer of one of favorite blogs posted this under the heading "The only leadership advice you will ever need".

Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people's approval
and you will be their prisoner.

Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.

Tao Te Ching chapter 9

It has stayed with me ever since, especially in the past week or so when every single one of our days has been full to the brim and I know there are all sorts of things spilling over the edge. I hate that feeling! But where do you make the cut? What, exactly, is my work? Mother? Home educator? Artist? Knitter and spinner? All are full time jobs if you do them correctly.

Sometimes, in my weaker moments, I can't help but think: sure, it was easy for the Buddha. He wasn't a mother. He didn't have laundry and meals and children and schedules and clean-up and work on top of all that.

You can be on the path and still be mountains and rivers away.

Poor Old Wee Ball

In all the travels and projects, Wee Ball Yarns has had to take a backseat. I did manage to get it included in the Craft Council's annual studio guide and I submitted yarn for consideration for their store in St. John's--still waiting hear back on that. As our thoughts turn northward and ferry reservations are made, I have been able to cast a glance at my dwindling inventory and start to get excited about another season of yarn dyeing and spinning. I purchased some natural plant dyes (indigo!!) and I am hoping to get a bunch of fleece dyed before we leave so I can start right in spinning. We'll see. Time takes on another feeling in Gillams, so there will be opportunity to do all these things sooner or later.

In the meantime, I have posted some new items, including some new yarn that I am very happy with. Remember my over-spun single?



Pretty but pretty awful from a spinning perspective.

The solution was to ply it with a merino single that had been sitting around on a bobbin.


I love the results--so rich in colour. I keep thinking it is the royalty of yarn because it looks so fancy. The perfect ending for a terrible mistake!

At Long Last

Did you knit for The Knitted Mile? Have you been saying to yourself, "I knit for that lady and was promised pictures of my own to keep and I ain't seen nothing yet!" Well, my great shame has, at long last, ended. I have finally made up little books of photographs for everyone who knit (the key word here is "little") and I will be mailing and distributing them early next week. My sincere apologies for the delay--your hard work was/is very much appreciated!

That said, I should warn you that there is a reason why I make projects that involve great lengths of knitting and not, say, handmade books. Let my love for you not be measured by the straightness of my cuts nor the accuracy of my measurements, but by the sincere intention with which these books were made.

Math (no science yet)

We hit a point this year when I realized that my math skills take a steep decline around Grade 6. Finn and Lucy, both, were ready for more complex ideas but I was not. When math comes up, my mind starts to fog over and suddenly scrubbing the mold off the grout in the bathroom seems like a very pressing, yet enjoyable, task. Better go do that right now - see ya!

This is not such a productive attitude for a homeschooler, especially for the one who is supposed to be creating the atmosphere of ideas. Then, I learned about this essay, Lockhart's Lament.

Read!

Socialize Me!

One of the first things people usually say when I mention that we are homeschooling (although mostly I try to avoid the topic at this point), is "aren't you worried that they won't have a group of friends to socialize with?". Or "what about socialization? It is so important!" Most people who homeschool are probably rolling their eyes about now since it is the first question everyone gets asked. The next one is "what about math and science?"

Forget math and science for a moment...let's talk about socialization.

Truth be told, my views about how many friends one needs in life may be somewhat outside the mainstream. I often feel that so much emphasis is put on being a "team player" and "working well in groups" that it leaves little room for people who have more interior kinds of personalities to be considered perfectly normal and acceptable. At best, they get labeled shy or at worst, told they have some kind of disability that requires treatment. This isn't to say that there are not some people with genuine problems, but I have more than once seen children who are simply more solitary types who live in their heads a bit more than most be labeled...well...just be labeled something other than "normal kid". Normal has become so narrow for children these days.

Plus, I have my own axe to grind. I was always told by teachers and other prominent adults in my life that I was shy. I have spent my whole life thinking, no , believing, that I am a shy person. A shy person with a blog. A shy person who regularly creates large-scale collaborative projects with complete strangers. Wait a minute! Maybe I am not shy! Imagine if I had grown up without that thought constantly echoing in my head.

Better to toss it in the garbage pail after 42 years than never, I suppose, but even better to never have to bother about such nonsense. Do you agree?

Another of the beauty parts about homeschooling is that my children have never learned that you are supposed to feel disdain for younger kids or those other kids, whoever they may be at any given moment. There is very little of the Lord of the Flies kind of competition among the children and there is almost none of the us vs. them stuff between the children and the adults. I don't know exactly why except that perhaps it is because there simply doesn't need to be. We often are in groups that range from infants to teenagers to adults and for the most part, we all get along. I like that kind of socialization.

I suppose I am running the risk of sounding like I am proselytizing for homeschooling. I'm not. I don't think everyone should do it. I know people who are doing it and perhaps should re-consider. But I do sometimes want to counter the fact that parents who have children who go to school seem to feel no problem questioning and even openly criticising my family's decision. Meanwhile, if I were to suggest that some of the socialization that goes on in schools might not be the most healthy thing for some children...well!

Shall we talk about math and science now?

Look Who's Home

This arrived at our doorstep last Friday:



All 57 tangled-up pounds of it.

Gulp.

Il Papa or Big Papi?

So the Pope is coming to NYC. Far be it for me to say he shouldn't come and take advantage of the strong exchange rate like all those other Europeans who are filling our streets. And say what you will about sex abuse scandals and the treatment of women and homosexuals, the man is obviously quite impressive to be where he is today.

But there is just one thing.

Yankee Stadium?

Never!

Changing the World One Pad at a Time

In the way that redeems all the time-sucking waste of the internets, I stumbled across this website: Goods4Girls.org. They collect donations of re-usable menstrual pads (you can make them yourself--they have a pattern, or there are other places on the web with patterns) and distribute them to girls in Africa, where having no access to sanitary supplies, like menstrual pads, often means the end of schooling. A simple, yet powerful, act. And it all started with just one woman asking herself what she could do to help.

If there was ever a better reason to finally dust off my sewing machine...

PS. If you are not using re-usable pads yourself...what's stopping you? It is better for you and the planet. Plus the water you soak them in is like a miracle drink for plants. Everybody wins. Do it!

Turn, Turn, Turn

The spinning/knitting workshop went well. I shared some information about a variety of fibres, passing around samples of raw and scoured wools, alpaca, silk, cotton boles, and angora, then did a little demo of carding and spinning. As always, the wheel was a great attraction (one child asking "what's that machine?") and everyone wanted a chance to try it. Of course I want everyone to try it but I always feel a little bad about it because the first time one tries to spin on a wheel, it is just plain old hard. You watch the demonstration and it looks so easy and natural, and then - whoa - you need six hands and seven feet to make this thing work. It doesn't matter is you are eight or 38. Fortunately, most of the little ones were happy just to treadle and make the wheel go around, so I think everyone came away feeling satisfied.

Lucy did a bang-up job teaching kids to make little yarn dolls and the two other people who knit got everyone going with the knit stitch. Carey brought her needle felting kits and soon enough everyone was making little felted balls. The donated yarn was snapped up and, all in all, it was a glorious, fibre-y day!

For Future Generations

Today we will be heading over to the Broadway branch of the Queens Public Library where Lucy and I will be leading a workshop on knitting and spinning. We are part of a new homeschooling group that formed because we all were frustrated by having to always travel to Manhattan for activites (somehow us traveling to Manhattan was not a big deal, but try to get someone who lives in Manhattan to travel to Queens...you'd think they got nosebleeds or something). The group is lovely and as diverse as Queens itself. We started meeting one Wednesday/month, then we upped it to two Wednesdays/month and now we meet every week. The library has donated its basement space and we take full advantage of that generous offer. We try to mix structured time devoted to specific topics with open time for play and hanging out. Naturally, it was not too long before the topics of knitting and spinning came up - weird how that happens, right?

I have a variety of fibres to share: different breeds of sheep, alpaca, silk, cotton, angora, as well as my wheel, a spindle and maybe some pictures of sheep just for fun. The main point is to teach knitting, however, as there was a groundswell of interest among young and old. Hooray!

As a special bonus, a woman in our neighborhood was seriously de-stashing and I happily snatched it all up so I could share it with all these new knitters. Did I set aside some of the more tasty nuggets for myself? What do you think?

I'm Old Gregg!

It may be a little sad that I went to Berlin only to discover a cult British TV program, but I did.



Go to youtube right now and watch the rest of the episode. I highly recommend it.

A List A Mile Long

But instead....

Look Out: Confused Political Views Ahead

Before I headed to Germany, I was having some intermittent discussions with people who are much more conservative than I am. I like these discussions because they make me clarify the reasons that I hold onto my opinions and to remind me that, while I may think I know how things are and should be, there are many people who hold opposing views who are just as convinced that they are correct. I occasionally read some conservative blogs just to get my blood up a little but also to try to understand where people who hold these beliefs are coming from. Sometimes it works and sometimes I just shake my head and say "no". I love being idealistic about the possibilities of collective society and firmly believe that it is us idealists who are the ones that make change happen.

Among the artsy, international set that I was temporarily a part of, the general opinion about the US was pretty low. Everyone had been to NYC and loved it but they all disliked George W. Bush intensely. I think "wanker" and even "douche bag" were some of the phrases that came to their smoke-filled lips. As a card carrying member of the Green Party (can I make myself more irrelevant??), I am not about to defend W or the US at this moment in time. I was part of the several million strong "focus group" that protested the war, again and again, that W so easily dismissed way back when, many thousands of lives now ended ago. And I have continued to do what I can to register my protest including visiting my congressman and writing many letters. Futility, thy name is leftwing politics. Or so it seems sometimes.

Yet, after meeting the umpteenth person who trashed the US, I started to feel...not angry exactly...but kind of bummed out. The US, for all its many, many flaws at the moment, is quite an interesting experiment. Good things have come from it and, I suspect, will continue to come. But it seemed impossible to say that without sounding like some kind of patriotic bumper sticker. Dang! I'm a Canadian permanent resident! An Irish citizen! Who is ready to blame America first? That would be me! But there I was, feeling kind of defensive. It reminded of a time I was traveling in South India, staying in a village in a small set of little huts created for low-budget tourists. Next to my little hut were two British guys who spent a good deal of their time talking trash about all the "fat Americans" they saw that day and how awful America was (this was the Reagan years, so again, I could not disagree). They were relentless about it. But what really got me was that, in between America bashing, they would play their guitars and sing (wait for it) Eagles songs! And guess what kind of books they were reading when they put down their guitars? Yes! American authors! Tempting 'though it was to point out the inconsistencies in their thinking, I let it go. They were pretty convinced of being right and I wasn't going to change that.

So yeah, like 81% of my fellow citizens, I believe the country is on the wrong track right now. It is a strange moment to feel like I should be defending this place. Fortunately, not everyone only sees the negative. Here are two British guys, and I don't think they are the same ones as my neighbors in Mahabulipuram, who appreciate some of things the US has to offer. Is Human League British? Ok, ONE British guy...