Lost Arts studio

A lot of the fiber arts I enjoy are things like tatting, netmaking, chair caning, and even weaving, where people will come up to me when I demonstrate and solemnly tell me, "That's a lost art."

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Location: SW Outer Nowhere, Michigan, United States

On the Internet, nobody knows you're a chicken. (With apologies to Peter Steiner.)



22 March 2008

Driftin', Driftin' the Night Away

Snow photo: mulberry tree outlined with snow against the gray sky towards Lake Michigan, and some of the wind-sculpted drifts along the east side of the driveway.

After I posted yesterday evening's photos, it snowed for twelve hours more.

Although the storm was coming from the west, the wind at our house came out of the east the whole time.

Coming from the east, the wind rushes across a field, hits the tree-lined hill at the edge of our property, and swirls all around before it arranges the snow around our house.

It was very strange, because inside the house, we couldn't hear the wind. If I looked out the south window, I could see the snow going sideways in pulses, but sitting in my knitting spot it was quiet.

When I went outside and shovelled the driveway out (again! this is supposed to be spring, here, weather!) a drift had formed across the bottom again, but not as high as the one I broke up with my car yesterday.

We skipped the Easter egg hunt this year, even though it will be the last year our son is young enough to go.

Last year there was snow at Easter, and they moved the hunt inside the school.

It did not work out well: they had the kids jammed into a hallway with the eggs scattered on the floor. The kids in front scooped up bags of eggs. The ones in back got literally nothing. Not one egg. There was no limit, like "Each person scoop up five eggs and stop", then see if there were any more.

Between that bitter memory and the state of the roads, when our son said he didn't really want to go, we didn't push him.

We stayed home and dyed eggs.

Last year I used the leftover egg dye on tussah silk.

This year, my mother cleaned out her weaving stash and gave me some of the old Maypole wool from back in my weaving-lesson days. I took a couple of the dull tans or very light browns and nuked them in the microwave in the leftover dye mugs.

I pulled the cardboard core out of the center and stuffed a couple of the Maypole spools in there whole, since I can rewind them on my ballwinder afterwards.

That rich purple mop on the left started out as institutional beige. When I flaked out the top a little, I found the inside had taken up the leftover blue dye and gone a peculiar green color, like a healing bruise.

Just call this "biliverdin".

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4 Comments:

Blogger Knitting Linguist said...

Wow! The snow is just not giving you a break at all! But it sounds like you all made a lovely Easter celebration in spite of it :) The dyeing looks like it was great fun, and the colors are very spring-y!

8:46 PM  
Blogger Olivia said...

The snow looks kind of peaceful to me, but I know that thought is coming from the luxury of not LIVING in it!

And I really like the bruise coloured yarn.

7:52 PM  
Blogger Donna Lee said...

Spring will come, spring will come, spring will come. If we keep saying it, maybe it'll happen!

8:03 PM  
Blogger catsmum said...

oh no that yarn deserves a nicer name than that - it's purty!

6:56 PM  

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