maine fog in summertime

woven

In a basket weaving class I found myself making cloth.
But oh I became a scientist before I was a weaver. See that tiny weaving in front? It was a study from a washcloth with selvedge on all four sides, beginning with the weaving the tool was created sight unseen but signature present. Study revealed it was woven on a simple frame loom warped in a particular way not like an S but looped in interlocking Os. My little weaving came to be from nails in a board. Tried traditional Andros Island-style coiling not with palm but reed and muslin, before returning to the simple loom weaving cloth of linen and spanish moss.

How might spanish moss be when untangled, twisted, tied, corded, partially spun or dipped in ink, wet and wound aroud a stone, or felted in wool? All new vocabulary for new language.

To skin a tree.

At this rate it appears my blog will stand still forever, unless I start rolling now. This election has me frozen and watching, I'm looking forward to next week when perhaps I'll breathe again. Here's a short breath for now.
At Haystack we were given the chance to prepare bark strips for weaving. One of the maintence men procured a freshly cut spruce pine to use. Using a sharp pocket knife, we scored strips along the bark then pried sections up and running our hands down the moist crevice between the trunk and supple bark to peel it, gently tugging when reaching the base of a branch. The feeling of skinning something freshly dead nestled in my heart and kept my actions aware and careful. My hands were soon soaking wet and mildly sticky.

The corky bark was carefully scraped off to make something very closely resembling soft leather. Then we scored the thickness halfway and peeled open the pages to reveal the text of growth embedded there.

We rolled up excess for storing
and wove with something precious.