Change of plan

Well..."the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry." At least I'm not alone in this.

My oh so carefully planned sweater already has experienced a set back. The pattern and gauge are fine, the knitting is going along very well, and I like the look of it very much, but there's a problem. The yarn that felt soft and lovely in the skein, knits up into a fabric that is scratchy against the skin. I was going to continue on as if nothing was wrong, but then I had to ask myself if I would actually wear a sweater that felt like that. With a resounding "No!" going through my mind, I'm ripping it out today. Thankfully, I didn't wait until I was half way up the body before deciding to change yarn.

I'm nearly sick as I think about it. All that handspun yarn, all the experimentation and planning...well, welcome to my world. Sometimes it seems like I spend more time ripping back than actually moving forward with a project. I have loads of black alpaca and some charcoal unspun Icelandic wool that would go together nicely if I change the gauge and some of the pattern elements, but I'm really saving that for another hooded jacket. Hmmmm.... Today looks like a day to search through my yarn inventory for about 2000 yards of...something...something plain that will show off the pattern stitches. I have lots of painted yarns, but I don't like to combine knit/purl stitch patterns with elaborate color because I think you lose the effect of both elements. Less is more, you know.

So what to do with the white handspun? I'm remembering how I already wrote about jumping on the bandwagon of making little crocheted toys and that's been fun--really fun. I suppose that I now have yards and yards of white handspun yarn that can be turned into little toys and dyed to my own taste. If I double the yarn and use a bigger hook, I can probably felt them as well. With the mohair in the yarn, the felted pieces will become furry and fuzzy. Just the thing for stuffed animal toys, so all is not lost. I also have a teddy bear book that I've never really taken seriously. Maybe there's a silver lining out there somewhere?

On a happier note, the rose gray jacket is ready to assemble. I'm going shopping this week for polar fleece with which to line it and for some really great buttons. I expect to have to spend as much as $2 per button to get what I want and I'll need eight of them. Ouch!

On an even happier note, the Easter snow storm has melted away already and it's looking a little more like spring. The first two yellow crocuses just poked their heads up, so there's hope for warmth and green that will end what feels to me like the longest winter on record. While I was walking yesterday, I noticed that the trees were just beginning to bud. The sea gulls were following the tractor through the field as the farmer was discing it up, so there must be insects and such stirring in the ground. All the signs of spring are there, but it has yet to spring!

With warmer weather comes major cleaning of livestock pens, a huge mucking out of the barns, irrigation, and shearing. There will have to be a large renovation effort to repair the damage that the freezing wind has done on several fronts during the winter--sagging wind breaks, loose boards here and there, posts broken off in the frozen ground, and such. I'm looking forward to it this year. Just to have winter say goodbye for a while will be worth it.

Well, off to rip! With the prospect of spring, ripping out that sweater doesn't seem so bad!

Anatomy and Evolution of a Sweater

I always thought that knitting a sweater was a little like a marriage commitment--interminably long with questionable results at the end of all that time. Don't get me wrong. I've been married for 24 years and I've also knitted many sweaters, but when I first started knitting in earnest, I focused on small projects because I could see the end clearly. Not so with sweaters. The human form is so varied and the complexities of fitting such a form and accommodating personal taste was so daunting that I just couldn't imagine knitting for that long and using all of that yarn, only to find that the final product didn't fit a living soul, nor appeal to any sensible being. Even after following a pattern faithfully to the end, I found that the sleeves were too short, the body rode up at the center or the bands at the hip or neck were too tight.

With that in mind, I began searching for solutions. To my great delight, I found such authors as Elizabeth Zimmermann
and Priscilla Gibson Roberts
who have guided me in not only knitting sweaters that fit, but in designing my own patterns rather than being a poor blind follower.

With that in mind, I've decided to begin posting the prenatal and birthing processes of a sweater. Whatever life it decides to pursue beyond it's final entrance into the world as a complete work is up to its owner, but the birthing and creation is my business.

My sweater began as hair on an animal's back--actually two animals. Dolly, my poor short sighted angora goat, and Justice, a very sexy alpaca beast, contributed ample supplies of white woolly stuff for me to use. Their fleeces were blended and processed into soft and creamy rovings that I've spent the last few months spinning in stop and start sessions. I have four skeins of approximately 400 yards and between 8-10 oz. each. I think it may take another two skeins to complete the sweater and I'll continue spinning, stop and start of course, as the sweater progresses.



The raw materials have been gathered and dealt with, and the charts below are the actual conception of the sweater itself. I've decided on an Aran style sweater. No color patterns for this one, but a plethora of knit and purl patterns that should hold my interest and keep me feeling challenged. It was so much fun to experiment with patterns and stitch counts. I made dozens of different drawings and finally settled on a central star with vertical patterns on either side. There will be simple cables that will run on either side of the center pattern as well as up the sleeves and on to the neck line via the shoulder straps. There will be full gussets under the arms and 2x2 ribbing at the cuffs, hip band and neck line.



Women purchase infinitely more sweaters than men, so this will be a woman's garment. It will be a women's size 10-12, which is an average/large woman's size. Chest size is 40", and sleeve length is 18" from underarm to wrist. These measurements should give the finished sweater enough roominess to be comfortable and practical.

The next step is to ball up the yarn and knit a gauge swatch so I'll know how many stitches to cast on.



My swatch measured 5 stitches to the inch measured over stocking stitch on #5 needles. The cables pulled in about 10-12% of the width. The chest measurement being 100%, multiply it times the gauge, so 40 x 5 = 200 + 20 (10%) extra for the cable pull = 220 total stitches for the body of the sweater, but I'll cast on the original 200 so the bottom band is doesn't flap in the breeze or ride up. Once the ribbing is finished, I'll increase to 210 stitches and then again when the patterns begin to 220.

All measurements are based on the 100% chest measurement of 40 in. or 200 stitches. The sleeves are cast on at the wrist at 20% of the chest and increased every 5th row to about 33%. I haven't decided how I'll work the sleeves yet but I'll play that by ear. So now it begins. I'll keep you up to date on the progress, but I tend to work on several projects at once, and the spring outside work is approaching.

I'm just getting to the end of the hooded jacket in rose gray alpaca and wool. I have half of a sleeve to finish and the hood to knit before I can assemble. Pictures very soon!!

Magical Felt with the Ranchers

There are loads of books out on felt these days. It seems like it's the new fashion craft of the season and there's little wonder. Making felt is an amazing and satisfying process. It's simple and straightforward, highly creative, and you really can't make a mistake.

Making felt is simply the process of matting and shrinking animal fiber together in a controlled fashion. Controlling the shape and rate of shrinkage are the keys to success. Felting can be done by an individual or in a gang, whichever fits your preferences or your needs.

My good friends at Triangle Cross Ranch will be helping us with this project. Since it's winter and most of the outside activities are either unpleasant or impossible because of the wicked wind and crushing cold, these folk are now bona fide experts in making felt--and they make felt as a gang.




OK, so, rule number one in making felt--there is no having fun or smiling. Absolutely NO fun!! Do you hear me?



Oh dear, I don't think they're listening.



To begin, we'll need either raw washed fiber, or carded batts. I think it's easier to use batts and I think the results are a little more even and predictable.


Lay down a piece of fabric as a base to build your felt upon. We use old sheer, but textured curtains. (Dotted Swiss or polyester lace is perfect, but make sure it's really ugly. That's important.) Next build your first layer of fiber by laying pieces like shingles on your fabric, with all the fibers going the same direction. To build the second layer, place the fiber perpendicular to the first layer. Do the same for the third layer and then check for holes or uneven spots, not heavier or lighter in places, but very evenly distributed. Place another piece of textured fabric on top of these layers.



Wet the fiber with hot soapy water...


...and press the water into all of the fibers under your fabric until they're saturated. The wet fibers will begin to smell like an animal and the people making the felt will wrinkle their noses and perhaps complain slightly. Those who thrive on texture and sensory activities will thrill to the feel of the soap and warm water, the smell of the fiber and the contrast between the rough fabric and the soft wool. It will calm them and they'll look forward to it week after week.



When all the fibers are wet, rub them gently in a circular motion so that none of the fibers shift from their positions. The amount of pressure is similar to the pressure you use to apply moisturizer to your face in the morning. Continue rubbing the entire surface until the fibers begin to hold together.



Keep rubbing... (...how much longer?)



turn it over and do the other side, and rub some more... (...my arms are tired...)



until you have what we call prefelt. (...are we done yet?)



Prefelt is when the fibers begin to mat together and it passes the "tent test". To test this, pinch a small bit of your fiber and pull up. If it forms a little tent, it's prefelted. Take off the top fabric and rub firmly and aggressively to shrink and harden the felt. We even scrub it on a washboard or a textured drainboard to firm it up.



Rinse in cold water. OK. Do you have felt? Is it fabric? Felt is, indeed, fabric. It may be thick or thin depending on how much fiber was used, but it's very durable--nearly indestructible. There are some details I've left out, like how much water and soap, but that's the gist of it.

We've recently been making our felt in larger and larger sheets by rolling it in a textured rug or mat and rolling it back and forth. It's absolutely magic the way it becomes felt in just a few short minutes. Place the fabric on top of a textured rug or mat (old bamboo blinds or outdoor mats are perfect). Build the layers on the sheer fabric as before, but you can now use larger pieces of fiber in building the layers. We use full sized batts for this. Put the sheer fabric on top.

Wet the fiber and press as before. After the fibers are all saturated, roll the entire works around a wooden dowel rod or a broom handle.



Rubber band it to hold it together and squeeze out the excess water.



NOW, roll, roll and roll some more.



Put on some music and dance and shuffle while you roll back and forth. If you get tired, sit down and roll it with your feet. Hook it to the back of your bike so it will roll as you pedal and let your bike do the work, but ROLL!



Unroll it, do the tent test, add color, and roll some more. Reroll if you need to, but it should be prefelted in no time. In this way, our Ranchers make prefelt in 15 minutes from building the layers to completed prefelt. It's absolutely brilliant and saves us loads of work.

We're learning to make mittens and bags out of our felt fabric and we're only getting started. We made our first three pairs of mittens three weeks ago out of some ugly cast off fiber by simply cutting the pieces out and hand stitching them together.




The Ranchers have been taking turns wearing them to do chores, even thought my oldest daughter thought she was going to have a pair for herself. So far, they're the warmest work gloves they have. Pretty good product testers, eh?

Just think, all this creativity and hard work without an ounce of fun, conversation, or silliness! Looks and sounds like a sweat shop to me...






...maybe not.

You can read more about Triangle Cross Ranch at www.trianglecrossranch.net or at
trianglecrossranchblog.blogspot.com

Fibers and fleeces

The question has been asked, "What is the difference between fiber and yarn?" It's actually been asked more than once and I, in my wisdom, have neglected to actually give a meaningful answer. I forget that not everyone lives in my world, so here is my best effort at explaining fiber, at least in the terms that I'm familiar with.

Fiber is a raw material. It comes from plant sources (cotton, hemp, corn silk, flax, soy silk, bamboo, etc,) and from animal sources (wool, alpaca, mohair, silk, cashmere, angora, dog hair, llama, camel down, camel hair, etc.) All animals and all plants produce fiber in some form, but some are more usable than others and some fibers take some real creativity to find uses for them. I know absolutely nothing about plant fiber, so that's the last mention I'll make of that.




In my world, fiber is the bag of alpaca fleece you sink your hands into and breath in the earthy (and sometimes down right stinky) animal smell right after it comes off the animal, enjoying the total sensory experience--including the static electricity. It's still warm from the animal's body and the newly shorn ends look like a silk carpet.





It makes you groan slightly with the richness of color and luxurious softness. In my world, fiber is the mohair that smells and feels greasy until you wash and dry it so that it shines like silk and curls into perfect ringlets like doll hair. By the way, "fleece" is just another word for an animal's coat of hair that is harvested for use, usually some kind of wool. The blanket of an animal is the fiber that is shorn off of the sides, back, hips and shoulders. It the best fiber on the animal. The neck, leg, belly and...well... less desirable areas are normally either thrown away or used for things like garden mulch, lining chicken nests or animal bedding.

The first step in transforming raw fiber into something usable is skirting. This is where the entire fleece is spread out on a large mesh screen and sorted in order to remove impurities, unusable bits, and soiled fibers. During this phase, the wool is also sorted and graded according to fineness, color, and use. Some fiber will be coarse and straight (leg and belly hair) and most will be crimpy and soft (back, shoulder, neck, hip). Crimp is the wave in the fiber that gives it loft. Not all types of animal fleece will have crimp, but if crimp is a consideration, consistency in frequency and amplitude throughout the entire blanket area is important.



This first step is very important, as a poor job of skirting can ruin the fiber for it's intended use and create problems at every stage of processing. Imagine a gorgeous alpaca sweater in lilac and sage with tiny bits of hay stems scratching you every time you wear it!

After skirting, the fiber is washed and laid back out on the mesh screen to air dry. This is washed and dried alpaca ready for the either carding or combing. This animal has two colors in her blanket and the processed fiber should produce a tweedy marled looking yarn or felt.




If the fiber is agitated during the washing, it will mat itself into a shrunken, shaggy mess, beyond rescue and never to be used again. (How, exactly, would I know this? Experience, my dear, experience!) It will be a total loss, so the washing must be done by careful soaking with a mild soap and meticulous rinsing. I use my clothes washer only on the final spin cycle to spin out the rinse water. There's no matting and felting together as long as the whole mass moves in the same direction.

These fibers are mohair and they've been through a picker. You can see the huge sharp spikes in the picker and the resulting fluff. There are spikes on both top and bottom of this wicked thing and they pull the locks apart so they can be rearranged. Because mohair curls and twists, it benefits more than most fibers from being put through the picker unless you're using it for doll hair or spinning a curly novelty yarn. The young man running the picker is one of our Ranchers at Triangle Cross Ranch. He's decided that this is his niche and he loves running this machine--with heavy gloves and close supervision for safety.






After picking and fluffing, fiber is carded or combed in order to arrange the individual fibers so that they're all going basically the same direction. I like to dye raw fibers, right after washing because it adds interest to the carding and combing and it's ever so much fun to blend colors at this stage. Experimenting with different color combinations and imagining the finished products makes the work go quickly. (I've learned more about color theory on my drum carder than any class or instructor could have taught me.) Fiber off of a carding machine is called a batt or roving. If you're a quilter, you know what batting is and this is nearly the same, but made from natural animal fiber rather than polyfiber. You can use hand cards--two curved paddles with carding cloth (teeth) on each, but with the amount of fiber we produce a year, hand cards are kind of like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon. The white batts are mohair and the brown/gray is alpaca.








From a comb, the fiber is called top or sometimes a roving. This is a thin, continuous "river" of fiber that is ready for spinning. Again, the tools of the trade offer long sharp spikes and look like weapons of mass destruction.





So far, the fiber has progressed from fresh raw fleece, to washed and dried fiber, to combed top or carded batts and rovings. From here, it can be spun into yarn, made into wet felt, needle felted, locker hooked or anything you can dream up. Up to this point, it's been pretty much all work and no play. Dyeing the raw fleece helps, but it's still a lot of production work and not always pleasant. It can be dirty and smelly work, although quite satisfying for me. I just love to see a huge pile of carded batts sitting on the table after a good day's work. More than that, I love to see fewer and fewer bags of raw fleece sitting in my barn.

Enough for now. More later on two preparations that I consider the bridges between fiber and finished goods and the beginnings of the creative process--the magical, incredible, wonderful process of felt and the meditative, reflective, sometimes tedious process of spinning. Just think, we'll be knitting in no time! Whoopee!