Downpours

Unusual downpours took us by surprise this month as we normally get very little rain in October. Rainfall records got broken. Lightning blew holes in concrete walls in some offices in nearby town. No one injured but damage occurred to wiring and equipment. Some close strikes near our home made my heart skip a beat or two. We unplug the telephone, computer and such, sometimes all day long, but we had no real problems unless you count a very nervous dog shedding at high rate.

The rain drenched all the bushfires and cleaned the air of smoke. Now, there's a blessing. Within hours of the downpour, we started seeing a tinge of green sprouting across the formerly dry bushland. Our waterhole likely won't go dry this year.

The mine blasting has not disturbed us as much as we feared. Keeping fingers crossed that this remains the case. The mine's 24-hour work schedule does result in illuminated southern sky at night, looking much like the aliens have landed.

Kookaburra

Kookaburras like to perch on top of this unused pipe which is leaned against a tree near the house. From there he can patiently scan the surrounding cleared ground for unwary skinks and bugs. He sometimes catches an unwary snake.

Kookaburra with snake

Spinning, like knitting and weaving, soothes my soul. My husband designed and presented me with a set of support spindles. I'm giving each spindle a trail run with cotton. The one below has an acrylic whorl with a laser cut out design and weighs around 22gm (about 3/4 oz). I'm lovin' it!

JaMspindle

photos by J and post by M in JaM

My Auntie Ediee

Belle, Edith and me; 1948

Words come with difficulty as I puzzle over how to express my recollections of Auntie Ediee. My mother's younger sister, Auntie Ediee is there in my earliest memories, she's one of my mothers. And always, there are children and family around her. She knew how to knit the fabric of family together.

My earliest memory of her: I am a less than six years old and I play with my cousins inside, noisily, enthusiastically, several families together for a time, a tribe sharing a common space. The only adults in the room: Auntie Ediee sitting at a table and Uncle Roy standing beside her. I push a doll buggy past them, I realise she is crying, silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. I feel stunned. I want Uncle Roy to stop making her cry. But I know she doesn't want anyone to notice. She was probably 19 or 20.

A few years later, on Easter, our tribe went to the California foothills which were ablaze in golden poppies, for an egghunt. Cousin Roy Lee found a tiny bird's nest full of little eggs. What a glorious day. Years later I felt sure I had found that nest, but my sister said, no, Roy Lee found it. It took me a moment to readjust my memory and figure out what had happened - that Roy Lee seemed so much a part of me, that it had happened to me, too, when he found the nest.

When my parents moved to Oregon in 1951, Highway 101 was a two lane highway. Two cars pulling U-Haul trailers leapfrogged northward, one driven by Uncle Roy, the other by my Dad, hauling all our belongings, us kids plus the dog, to the dairy farm on the Winchuck River. Uncle Roy returned to his home in Southern California and with Aunt Ediee and the kids began making weekend visits to our place, leaving Southern California on Friday, helping Dad over the weekend, playing Canasta with my folks until late into the night, and returning south in time for work on Monday morning. Eventually they, too, packed up and moved in with us for a wonderful while. I loved having my younger cousins around, Roy Lee and I rode horses bareback until his pony's boney spine rubbed Roy Lee raw in an unfortunate place, and I know my Mom loved having her little sister for company.

Belle, Edith; 1953

Then one summer we moved in with Auntie Ediee and Uncle Roy after they had moved back to Petersburg, Virginia. Life in Virginia proved very different to me. Sheet lightning on humid summer afternoons left me awed. I had never encountered separate public drinking fountains for whites and blacks and I didn't want to drink at either. We had arrived in Virginia just in time for Debbie's birth. I don't know how we all fit in that house. Some afternoons we got treats from the ice cream truck that came through the neighbourhood and you had to eat it fast or Uncle Roy would attempt a raid on your cone. In those days before TV, he entertained us with fantastic ghost stories that left us deliciously frightened. Some days we ran outside when we heard the call: "Watermelon! Waaatermelon!" and stopped the man pushing a cart loaded with watermelon down the street. I learned to weave pot holders from a neighbor girl. She and I went from house to house, selling them as well as crocheted and starched, minature high heels that her mom made.  I remember Donna as a littlie with incredible, curly, red hair. Donna's most powerful threat when pushed to the limit: "I won't let you brush my hair anymore!" I remember Cheryl's big grin most of all. She usually had a twinkle in her eye.... but that sure didn't make her a pushover!

Both families ended up back on the West Coast, mainly in California, but the roving gene remained active. Roy Lee joined the Navy, Debbie ventured off to live in Africa for a while. Back in Northern California, Debbie encouraged Jerry and me to accompany her to see an incredible outdoor performance by a drama group traveling entirely by horse drawn wagons, down the West Coast, from Canada to Mexico. After the performance, we chatted with some of the performers. Someone exclaimed: "Oh, I'd love to do what you're doing, but....!" The performer replied, "You can do it. You just have to decide to do it." Bless your heart, Debbie, for taking us there.

Carrying the roving gene, I've moved halfway around the world to Australia, and I miss gathering with our family, our tribe, in memory of my beloved Auntie Ediee. I grapple with the loss of one of foundation stones of my life's beginnings. And that is how the cycle of Life and Death works.

Aunt Ediee continued to travel back and forth her whole life, spending time with her loved ones, and that special family circle continued to grow, to include grandchildren and great grandchildren as well as more distant cousins . She had to travel this last trip alone, surrounded by loved ones at the outset and surely surrounded by love on her arrival at Heaven's Gate.

Edith, 2002, Scotland (photo by Debbie)

Love and Peace to you all.

by M in JaM

Ready for a Spin?

Rainbow lorikeets in the grevilleas outside our bedroom (in September) make a lively contrast to the white cotton I've been spinning.

I've learned to spin cotton, thanks to the generousity of strangers. Last year a fellow found one of our old websites and emailed to ask if I'd be interested in having his mother's long stored spinning equipment and fibres. She was going into a nursing home. Amongst the supplies he passed along to me, I found cotton top (processed fibres aligned for spinning), a homemade support spindle and a series of printed lessons on handspinning from a Flying Arts correspondence course available in the '80s. This year I had the opportunity to give cotton spinning a go.

I already knew how to spin wool, silk and alpaca. But I had never used a support spindle nor spun cotton. My first efforts left me feeling very frustrated, I just couldn't get the hang of it. The booklet's instructions regarding support spindles and cotton were... brief.

I turned to YouTube and Ravelry to see how others managed. Total strangers provided useful videos and the best advice: practice 15 minutes a day for a month.

Though I improved over the month, I continued to have trouble drafting the fibres. One problem: long term storage had compacted the cotton top. But there was something else. Whenever I ran into drafting difficulties, I began examining the fibres with a magnifier. I discovered a prickly vegetal bit at the centre of each clumpy section. Fragments of seed hull? Since this cotton top came from the '80s, it was almost surely not intended for a handspinner, but instead meant for use in a spinning mill where inclusion of small vegetal bits would not be a big problem. For this handspinner, those vegetal bits made spinning laborious and slow.

I searched for any website relevant to cotton handspinning and finally discovered Cotton Spinning with Joan Ruane. What a treasure! Joan has developed Easy To Spin Pima Cotton, a vegetal-free form of pima cotton top, specifically for handspinners. I ordered a pound from Cotton Clouds, one of the retailers that carry Joan's product. My cotton spinning went from being a chore to being a pleasure! I'm now spinning this cotton on a support spindle and on my Ashford Traditional wheel with no problems.

What shall I do with my skeins of handspun cotton yarn? Wash and weave.

M in JaM

Changes

The past two years have whipped past, leaving major changes in their wake.

Sadly, amongst the changes – Bear, my daughter's father, died. This unique man saw me through radical changes over many years and remained one of my oldest friends. There are no words to fully express the enormous gap his absence leaves in many lives.

Lyricist Robert Hunter says it best in the closing lines of “An Anthem for the Bear”:

“No bucolic Heaven for such as Bear,

rather a Rock of Ages from where

an eagle in full flight might dare

a sudden detour into endless dawn.

Sail on, dear brother Bear, sail on.”

Robert Hunter

March 20, 2011

Life has a way of taking away with one hand and giving with the other. Just to keep some balance in life and to remind us of the joy in living: four grandchildren appeared! Three grandsons (including a pair of twins) and one granddaughter. Am I stretching the term grandchildren? as strictly speaking, we don't all share genetic relationships? In matters of the heart and family, yes, I do claim them all as grandchildren and count myself very lucky.

Zeke

Phoenix

Gryphon

Juniper

I could wish for the extra energy that flows in younger grandmothers, but instead I'm learning to recognise my physical limits and appreciate whatever time I get to spend with the grands. Two of them live on another continent. And that limits our involvement in their lives. Internet helps bridge the gap.

Even our home is undergoing changes. We now live with the sound of blasting at the newly reopened mine three kilometres (1-1/2 miles) behind us. Already the sky glows all night long in that direction as they work round the clock, although mine management assured us at a public meeting that the mine would only run between 6am and 10pm. Likewise, the blasting was to start in mid October. Their first blast occurred 26 September. They said they would only blast at 2pm. The most recent blast occurred at 4pm.

Between grandchildren and mining, our quiet solitude and dark night skies may be a thing of the past. We remind ourselves to count our blessings.

by M in JaM

Doc Hays and the Trophy Bass

Doc Hayes had a veterinary clinic on Sterlington Road a few blocks from where I lived in Monroe, Louisiana. I can still smell that place and see all the amazing specimens stored in glass jars filled with formaldehyde.

I always stopped to admire the trophy sized big mouth bass mounted on an oval board above the door between the lobby and the exam room of the clinic. Everyone who came to the clinic asked about the Big Bass, caught well before my family moved to Monroe in 1949. I couldn't quite read the small plaque below the bass. But I knew the story just like I knew Doc's reputation as an avid fisherman. He loved to talk about fishing.

Yes, that fish had a story. It took cunning to catch him. Doc tried many times. He knew where that bass lived in bayou De Siard. Doc tried all his hand-tied lures and lots of different live baits but the Big Bass wasn't interested.

Now Doc had a knack with knots and stitches. He had lots of practice on dogs, cats and livestock. When he was driving out to vaccinate cattle for TB, he pondered over that bass. At last he figured out a possible way to tempt the bass.

Using his skill with knots and stitches, Doc set about making a tiny harness to fit a mouse. I wondered if he used the clinic exam table for this job. He laced two small hooks on each side. The hooks sat flat against the mouse. Doc and the harnessed mouse headed for the bayou where Doc rowed out to where the Big Bass lived. Attaching line from his fishing pole to the harness, he set the harnessed mouse onto a small wooden board that he floated next to the rowboat. He gave the board a gentle push and it slowly floated away with the mouse toward the bass's hidey hole. When the time was right, Doc gave a little tug on his fishing line. The mouse plopped into the water and began swimming frantically.

Big Bass couldn't resist. He swallowed the mouse, hooks and all.

Doc Hays had Big Bass mounted and put in place of honor above the door. I never forgot that fish nor Doc's cleverness.

J in JaM

Wesekh (Broad Collar)

by M in JaM

Our summer days can get hot and humid. But in tropical highlands, cool mornings make me want to throw a little something over my shoulders. I wanted to knit something lightweight, a single layer, something that would stay on and that wouldn't hang down into my oatmeal. I wanted to use my latest handspun yarn: a soft merino/soy blend, hand-dyed by Ewe Give Me The Knits.

Because I have limited experience as a knitter, I also wanted a pattern. An online capelet pattern (free) posted some years ago by Fuzzy Galore gave me the courage to procede. I made a swatch with my merino/soy handspun and adjusted the simple pattern for my gauge and needles. I cast onto circular needles (for the first time ever!) and began knitting. I followed the pattern directions except I made my "capelet" shorter. It extends to the edges of my shoulders. It measures 6" instead of 12" from top to bottom. Wondering what to call it, since it wasn't really a capelet, I searched online and found the "wesekh", or broad collar, of ancient Egypt (usually made with beads). I had knitted a wesekh. I like it.

photo by J in JaM

LED thrills

by M in JaM

I feel amazed by the LEDs coming onto the market. This photo shows our latest find: an array of bright LEDs. It uses 1/10 the power of the incandescent bulb next to it, ie, less than 2w compared to 20w.

Depending on solar power, we appreciate energy efficient devices. Until last month, we tolerated that incandescent bulb in our pantry. A little power hog. We rationalised that it didn't matter as it wasn't ever turned on for long. Everywhere else, we made the switch to compact fluoros several years ago. Then a friend gave J an LED torch that surprised him with its brightness. Upon further investigation, he found even more efficient LED replacements for the compact fluoros in our house. We haven't made a complete switch to LEDs as they do cost more in the short term. The little LED array in the pantry has a slight blue-ish cast to the light, but we found LEDs which provide a "warmer" light that we can plug into existing sockets (for compact fluoros) in the living room.

You probably would find it difficult to find a 12v 20w incandescent bulb these days. I may keep this one to use when darning socks.

Our LED source (no affiliation except as a friend):
The LED Shop Australia