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Backstrap loom

It's simple and portable and it took me ages to warp it - at least it seemed like ages, as all first time things can do.  And that was only eighteen warp threads (it can take sixty or so). 

I got it at a garage sale many months ago before I had any interest in weaving.  But it had to do with fibre......

KBN has motivated me to expand and explore.

The weft is men's ties.  I want to see if this will work for the basket/bag design.

This is what it looks like from the viewpoint of the weaver but it is meant to be used by a person seated on the ground with the othe end of the loom attached to a door handle or tree at that angle.  I need to sit on a chair.  I have hooked the other end to the top of a door.  The angle is not right.  I need to experiment or see someone using one.  Likely both.

The belt that goes around the waist was missing so I have used a regular belt with leather attaching it to the loom.  Maybe it is meant to go around the hips?  The torso?  Where is a Mayan weaver when you need to watch one?

I am challenged but it feels very good to discover the 'workings' of something so simple, so versatile, portable, 'ancient'.  And beautiful.

Outdoor 'vessels'

The second year - and another winter - this 'vessel' knit from tundra  wool has spent in the garden.  I love how it takes on the patina of the seasons.

This one as well. 

In warmer weather they might hold a book or knitting.

Once a bird couple almost built a nest in a vessel but it was too close to the house and they chose a more distant site.  I am hoping.   This is merely autumn debris. 

Roasting peanuts

When I visit my father in Ontario,  a trip to a shop that roasts and sells nuts is on the agenda because this is the kind of gift a ninety-year-old likes to receive.  He may look at flowers and display them nicely - but I know he prefers roasted cashews and pecans.

I love the smell of such a store and the taste of quality nuts freshly roasted is very worthwhile.

For some reason such a store does not exist in Victoria so when I come home I have to do it myself.  A bit of olive oil in a cast iron fry pan, a handful of raw, blanched peanuts,  careful cooking (these were on the verge of scorching), a  sprinkle of salt - dah dah!  It is hard not to start eating before they are cooled enough.

A salty tale

Dum-de-dum.....   Sitting here,  minding my own business,  keeping company with my colleagues,  waiting to do business when needed......

Hey, what's that.......what has she brought home now.......

Huh?  And why has she put it here, on our shelf.....

Curiouser and curiouser.  Wait - she's picking it up and sort of shaking it back and forth and - well, I'll be darned.......

It is salt!  It is a salt container! 

Who would have thought!!!

Well, welcome to the neighbourhood,  conversation piece;  but  I don't think you're going to catch on.

More 'vases'

Last year, around this time, I had daffodils blooming in the garden - then, it got very cold and snowed - and I knit some small scarves and wrapped them around those chilly flowers.

This year - it snowed.  But my daffs are still tightly furled.

This flower came in a bouquet from a store, tightly furled as well, but it began to open in the kitchen  and the wool is for whimsy not warmth.

A length of bamboo makes a sleek holder for ivy and a rescued birch branch that broke off in a windstorm.  It reminds me, in its doorway setting, of simple columns at the entrances of temples.

A few more rescued branches from the street piles of  prunings waiting on the city pickup responded to the warmth above the stove and opened into bloom, into leaves.

Flowers and vegetables in the garden seem  friendly companions and the sight of the daffodil in a vase of yarn made me think that equally friendly companions would be unusual knitting needles chumming up to that daff's siblings.

Meditating ; Lying down

When I was taught to meditate forty-four years ago the usual position  of sitting cross legged on the floor was extremely uncomfortable  so I tried it lying down.  Much better.  Since the intent was to connect with the Stillness within it made more sense to focus on this and not spend time and energy battling remediable discomfort.

This made increasing sense with the further realization that the spine is best kept straight and the body relaxed.  In a supine posture with a support under the head the backbone was aligned and contact with that nourishing, supportive earth maximized.

A major epiphany later occurred with the realization that if the spine is indeed straight and the body relaxed and then one inhabits the body - the meditative state is immediately experienced.   I had spent many years attempting to control the mind with the mind with enough success to keep me chugging along (that natural state of Stillness is bliss) but inhabiting the body was an expansive leap in the journey and allowed meditation to occur anywhere, anytime. 

Meditation is a tool and finding the 'one' that best suits makes the 'job' easier.

Suitcases

One thing about using suitcases for storage - if and when you move your things are already packed!

 The versatility  is a great feature and they are an attractive way of storing everything from clothes to office supplies, art items,  gardening tools, fabric, yarn,  'junque',  seasonal stuff etc.  All in the same room!  It helps to label what is in what.

They can also be used as tables. 

Ease of access is worthwhile to consider;  the stacked arrangement can allow for this.

And often they come with a 'story' - either from the person who was selling or the travel labels or addresses written inside.

Honouring 'rescued' fibre art

I like to think - and certainly feel - that those items of fibre art that I find at thrift stores and church sales not only give me pleasure but somehow honour the person who made them as well. 

This exquisite coverlet has been folded on a shelf in the kitchen for a few months,  used on the deck as a shawl, catching my eye with its brilliance.  It needed more exposure to reveal all its beauty for notice and admiration so it got hung in a doorway at the end of a hall. 

It has been darned here and there so someone cherished it before it was donated. 

I wonder who did it.  And how long ago.  And why;  was it odds and ends or carefully chosen and planned.  Was it a gift.  Or an extra welcome on a guest room bed. The colours are so vibrant and placed in such a satisfying arrangement.

The plain squares are wonderful.  The ones with an added touch - wow!

I feel very good when I find such treasures.

Birds pantry?

The snowdrops are nodding merrily in my garden and I have seen daffodils in bloom a street or two away.

There are some crocus and some daffs ready and waiting to shine yellow under the major apple tree.

There are some dandelions looking particularly vibrant without any competition in the sunshine aspect yet.

But as I was strolling around and  nudging  mulch leaves and cheering the appearance of new shoots and noticing the dead ends of the rosemary  bush with new blue flowers showing just below the cold-nipped parts and considering doing a bit of a wake-up! call in the garden - I stopped.  Went and stood in front of the holly bush.  Looked thoughtfully at all the berries still remaining.  Glanced over at the daffs still tightly furled.  It is only the beginning of March.  Nature knows.  Many berries have been eaten by birds and likely other wildlife so far this winter.  Those berries are waiting on harvest.  Maybe another cold spell.  Maybe a "rainy day".  The garden still needs  and wants to rest. 

Squirrel's taking and giving

I didn't get to observe the snacking that took place on this table in the garden where the decorative corn got put after hanging on the front door but I am sure it was a squirrel:  the walnut shell left as a gift is a delightful habit of sharing.

In Toronto, each spring, on one special day,   the resident squirrel would bring her babies for us to view.  She - Poppy is what we called her - would come up onto the verandah and climb up the door and peer into the screen,  wait until she had attracted our attention.  Then she would wait on the verandah until we came and opened the door, wait until we had noticed her brood - usually two, sometimes three - who were down on the flagstones, watching us watching them.  We would oooh and aaaah and admire.  Then Poppy would scurry away and her kids would follow.  

She would leave entire walnuts on the picnic table, glossy chestnuts,  things I couldn't identify.

I wonder what she would have thought of ears of decorative corn.  And I wonder why the squirrel in my garden now seems to have taken off the kernels but not eaten them.  Perhaps they are not edible!  Perhaps the empty walnut shell is a comment...