when the mind and the feet move to a different rhythm

I needed a break from the three shuttle mania of the yardage I’m weaving. It’s been a long warp of two and three shuttle work, and I had such an urge to put on wings and fly through a warp, getting the restlessness out of my system before settling down again to the chess game of the yardage.

I chose to weave a scarf, a wisp of colorful alpaca/bamboo that is set at a gauzy 6.5 epc. The treadling is a simple repetition of 1-2…..1-2-3-4…..3-4. That should be easy to weave, right? Well, it depends…at first I was breaking it up into the three phrases I wrote above. It began like someone counting me in to a song. My fIMG_5241eet stumbled over this, especially at the lone 3-4 at the end.

No, this was not a song in four beats. It was a few lines of a familiar poem.

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

Oh how my feet began dance on the treadles when I started thinking of the treadling as


And off I flew.

(This scarf, by the way, is Asymetry from North Light Fibers, in alpaca/bamboo)

with a few days remaining in the year

It’s good to look around and see if I can finish any weaving project that’s in progress.  Hmmm. I could hem a towel or two, but that’s about it. Everything that’s on the loom or making its way onto the loom is still going to be a work in progress well into the new year. I’m OK with that. I have all the time in the world.

Walking through the house last Saturday, making sure everything looked tidy before a friend dropped by, I realized that I am making progress toward my desire of having my home filled with handwoven textiles. It brings me joy to have made these things or to have supported other weavers by buying their work.

  • Living room-my block weave table square on the coffee table
  • Dining room-my table runner and napkins from a local weaver
  • Kitchen-my towels, my tablecloth, and a rug from a local weaving guild sale. And let’s not forget my seasonal potholders, woven with loopers on an old-style potholder loom.
  • Library-my lap blanket
  • Guest room-table square by Bev Bowman and rug from a weaver in Sweden
  • Guest bath-my fingertip towels
  • Studio-my color gamp
  • Master bedroom-lap blanket by Lenora Fowler

What’s on the looms right now?

  • Alpaca/bamboo scarf
  • Yardage for a boudoir pillow
  • Yardage for a Saori wool shawl
  • Squares for a cashmere shawl (on the dreaded Weavette loom)
  • A narrow band (maybe a lanyard, or maybe just to tie something)

What comes next?

  • Rugs
  • Placemats and napkins
  • Tea towels

What’s in my dreams?

  • Bath towels and wash cloths
  • Blankets
  • Cushions
  • Curtains

With the cold, bright days of winter coming, I wonder how much of this I will weave before spring?


a hermit’s peace on solstice day

I am taking just a little time to be a hermit today. Snow was falling earlier this morning and I sat at the window, sipping my tea and becoming one with the gentle flakes. This is all the gift that I want or need this season. It’s good to be home.

I have managed to catch up with the season, not by rushing ahead, but by coming to a complete halt and letting the season catch me. The sun appears to stand still at the Solstice, and I am happy to do the same.

IMG_5226Although the coldest and snowiest part of the winter still lies ahead, I take joy in knowing that the days will slowly grow longer.

Welcome to the light!

Blessed Solstice to you!


wait! wait for me!

I feel like the season is racing ahead of me, and that I can’t quite catch up. I know that spending a few days in NYC, right on the heels of a whirlwind trip to Maine and a snowy Thanksgiving without power, has disrupted my sense of season. Although the pounding rain kept the NYC crowds light, I was unsettled by the noise, the bustle, and the unnatural glare of so much electric light. I can remember a time when I found the press of the crowd on a subway train more comforting than terrifying. I still found plenty of joy. Good friends and cuddly cats make it all worthwhile.

So, now I’m home and have been trying to slow down and enjoy the rich black night sky, liberally salted with stars. I am ready to bring home evergreen garlands for Yule and to make mental note of where I should plant evergreens on my own land.

What does Yule mean in this space? Warm blankets indoors and blankets of snow outdoors. A tumble of cats close beside me when I sit down to read. Simple candles in the windows. Wooly fabric on the looms. A sacred flame burning in the hearth. This year, a pretty red Julia loom followed me home from Maine, and is making a temporary home in my great room.

The Lady’s hand is seen in everything. Her snowflakes, Her birds, and especially Her trees. This is the reason to slow down and be fully mindful in the season: She draws Her dark cloak closely around us all, and whispers truth to those who will pause and listen.

As for me, I am trying to calm my breath and to sink into the stillness, wherever it may find me. I must let go of striving for a little while. I must weave mindfully, thread by thread rather than yard by yard.

I have started winding the pendulum clock again. It doesn’t say “tick TOCK” like many clocks do. It’s voice is softer, a gentle “tick uhh” that is the heartbeat of my home. When it strikes the hour or the half, routinely some seven minutes late, it is my mindfulness bell, reminding me to gather up my wandering thoughts and come home to the present moment.

The one that’s here. Right now. In the stillness.