Florida Buttercup Meets GC Ewe

This dye job was a complete surprise. About a month ago, the fields were just full of masses of a tall weed with teeny yellow blossoms. The golden fields were too pretty to cut. At the end of their blooming, I decided to throw some in a dye pot to see what would happen. This intense cinnabar green is what happened. A dusky yellow verging on green. Oh Yum!

Here’s the start of something good…I’m thinking a fine 2-ply would be just the ticket. And what’s left will get spun into some bulky wacky hat yarn!

Hello Fall, Goodbye Coreopsis

My stand of coreopsis was reduced to 3 or 4 spindly, hacked up plants around the terra cotta chicken fountain. The hennys did a pretty good job of dismembering said stand. So, I was reduced to trolling the county roads. My very own personal county road, also called 232, was loaded with the 3rd blooming 2 weeks ago. I had not had time all summer long to even pull over and snip some blossoms. So, this was it. I made sure I had a big ol trash bag with me whenever I went out. And finally, I said to myself, “Today’s the day.”

I set out for the feed store, expecting to see masses of yellow flowers, but when I turned out onto the road, all I saw was new mown grass. A mile later…5 miles later…8 miles later, there was a tractor, mowing ‘em down. I turned onto 27. Tractors mowing everywhere. It was one of those early fall days, you felt you could be outside, I guess. I got the feed. Not a flower in sight. Decided to take an alternate route home. And there, by the bottling plant near the springs, OH HA! The Last of the Coreopsis.

So there you go. I mordanted a variety of fiber…some of Holly’s hoggett fleece from last April’s shearing, some fine GCNI from a sheep in Dry Creek, Louisiana, some Border Leicester from Maryland. Then I made a dyepot with half of those coreopsis. The result…not intense oranges, but milder, softer shades. I’m totally delighted with the “overdye” effect on the gray GCNI. I want to wear THAT.

Here’s a close up, sans flash, of this season’s green cotton. We had quite a time with cotton this year. Permitted by the state, boll weevil trap planted in the garden by the Division of Plant Industry, and inspected by Wayne every three weeks this summer.

This is our 2nd year of growing cotton. We planted only green. I selected bolls with the darkest fiber, and was pleased with the outcome. Most of the cotton is medium green. Last year’s batch was all over the green spectrum…but mostly very very pale.

These are beautyberries. An entirely different color.  Pretty intense. I’ve been cutting stems and making wild bouquets with goldenrod. For years. Well, this year, I heard tell of a jelly made from beautyberry. Lenore, daring wench that she is, went first. She found “the mother lode” on her 10 acres. She was so daring she even added wine. Well. I tasted her jelly. I tasted the berries. I knew I had to make some.

Lenore the Enabler showed up at the farmers market with a big fat bag of berries. Almost enough for the “recipe.” On one of Smitty’s morning sojourns, I picked enough to make enough jelly for the Western World. I didn’t add wine. Just berries, pectin, and sugar.

Here you go. Five half-pints of jelly. Scarlet jelly. Now, how did that happen? The violet berries produced an amber colored juice. When the pectin hit…instant color change! I’d never used pectin before, so I didn’t know what to expect. The jelly set right up…ka-boom! Heck in a handbasket, it’s just like store-bought. Except it tastes herbal, wild, and like nothing that Publix would ever carry. Yum.

Thanks Lenore!

Oh…and the recipe…should anyone out there care to dare:

1 1/2 qts beautyberries
2 qts water
1 pkt pectin
4 1/2 c sugar

Start a boiling water canner rolling. Prepare 5 1/2 pt jars, lids, and bands.

Rinse and pick over berries. Ditch the stems. Cover the berries with the water. Bring to a boil…let boil for 20 minutes. Mash the berries a bit. Strain.

Use 3 c of the berry juice. (You’ll have another 3 c left to refrigerate to make more at a later date.) Bring the juice to a boil. Whisk in an envelope of pectin. (I used Ball brand.) As it boils, whisk in the sugar (all at once) and bring a 2nd boil. Let it boil hard for a minute.

Remove from heat. Skim off the “stuff” on top. Pour into sterilized 1/2 pt jars with 1/4″ headspace. Process for 10 minutes.

What?

 

Familiar?

A Summer Wool, Anyone?

Gulf Coast Sock Yarn Blend

Here’s a 4 oz knob of a blend of GC, bamboo, and, I think, silk. This was a gift from a gal who is trying very hard to move to this area. She was attempting to come up with a sock yarn for Florida using her wool. I am finding it easier to spin than knit. And, boy, do I need to get knitting. It has been hotter than the hinges of hell…and I’ve been finishing a big oak dais outside, wearing a rubber mask, and boy oh boy…am I a miserable beech when I’m sweating to death. So…I haven’t started the knitting projects.

Ever Get a DWS?

Spindlespun GC and GC Blend

Driving while spindling.  Well, no, I didn’t either. But then, I wasn’t doing both things at the same time. This was a road trip yarn. I’m not in love with this GC blend. Lends itself to lumps and knobs…it really drafts awfully. Ah well, it was a gift. Maybe if I prep the roving it will spin better. Pre-drafting is a good thing.

Month Ends with Beginner’s Mind

Beginner’s Mind: Border Leicester, CVM/Romney, Gulf Coast Native 40 yd about an Ounce

To end the month with a spin is good. To end, as one might begin, even better.

This yarn is spun with ends of runs…blobs with alfalfa, neps galore, uncombed locks. Just a pile of scruffy stuff that I loaded onto the handcards, cleaned, carded, and spun. I plied the dark CVM/Romney/GCNI with a fat Border Leicester single. Soo soft and delicious! Lumpy, bumpy, irregular, thick, thin, and a yarn any beginner would be horrified to spin.

This ends month #1 of Yarn Every Day on Ravelry. What a wild group! If you are a Raveler…come on by…we’ll be giving it a go next month, too!

3-ply on a Sad Day

This is the yarn I spun today. It’s from Holly, one of our dear Gulf Coast girls.

We’re very sad this evening. Wingie, our heroic mother hen, died today. She leaves 4 chicks who will be 5 weeks old this week. Oh, what a heartbreaker.

Back to the Garden

Twenty four hours is a long while to be gone from a place like this: a labor intensive-dependent place, with living, breathing, eating dependents. We got back late yesterday afternoon, ate, relaxed, and slept. This morning, the celestial choir awakened us. All 9 roosters were going off, simultaneously, in pairs, in quartets, in…well, you get the idea. They were just so needy. Artie, the muse, on the other hand…

Content-o-Cat

She is laying on, you guessed it, Sally’s fleece, all rolled up in an old sheet. I haven’t yet had time to skirt, weigh, etc, so there it sits. And, as you can see, she knows a good thing when she feels it. The gal who has to sleep with mommy, and has, for 15 years…well, there’s something better.

The garden needed attention. I planted borage seedlings, cotton seedlings, a couple rows of Jacob’s Cattle beans, and lo, oh, yeah, and behold…the Contenders are blooming. Also, we have 3 little ears of corn on corn stalk #1. Also, we pulled a dozen or so plump crisp red potatoes out from under. Also…oh pah, I won’t go on. I did have a lot to do out there, though. Fertilizing the Seminole squash and the Cocozelle…good ol rotted chicken poo hay. Watering the onions and the Brandywines. Half the dang day.

Then there was food to make. Blueberry muffins, daily bread, sausage & peppers…another good chunk o time. And, needless to say, I had to drive to the feed store.

So…the spinning didn’t get going until about an hour ago…and what should I spin? Well, Gracie came today. Gracie is a CVM Romney cross. The darkest dark brown. And as soft and silky as a bevis.

An Ounce of Gracie

This is what I did. This soft, slidey stuff takes a little bit of gettin’ used to…so, I took that ounce that I washed this afternoon, and spun ‘er up using a variety of tensions and ratios and speeds. Light, medium, and slow. There you go.

Back from Barberville

All I spun today was a bit of coreopsis dyed Gulf Coast Native. I cannot resist showing off the first skein from my little girls along with that apricot colored yarn.

We screamed to Barberville last night, after the Morningside shearing/festival day. Played a very hot dance. We were joined by Katie Bailey Waller and Joe Waller on the stage. Pat Czar called. Dancers come from all over the state to have a weekend of non-stop dance with a different band/caller every hour. It was great to have the honor of playing the last dance.

Today, we had a performance gig and an afternoon dance with Roy Moye calling. Katie and Joe were up for playing again, so we had a Turtles Wallerv sound. Now, we had a lot of down time between gigs. So…Mr Spindle came in handy. But, not for long. At music festivals, you end up, well, if not making music, then talking about music, or getting together to laugh with musicians you haven’t seen in awhile. It was one of those days. So, most of the spinning was of musical tales.

A Dash of Apricot & a Map

The apricot-coreopsis fluff from yesterday’s post (below) is being transformed into yarn. But, there are so many last minute things to do before tomorrow’s big reveal, that I just can’t fit one more centimeter of yarn into my day.

Tomorrow Holly & Sally get loaded into the truck (that ought to be a worthy sight) and driven back to Morningside, where they were born. There, they are destined to meet a shearer called Joel, who came all the way from Alabama to shear a few Gulf Coast Natives.

Before the haircuts, I will be dressed up like your maiden great-grand-aunt who lived in the sticks in 1880. I’ll be setting with Susan the soapmaker, showing off these plant dyed yarns of mine. I can’t bring the Fricke, but I have many a handspindle to accompany me. I promise to sneak a certified non-authentic camera in, to take a couple pictures.

After the haircuts, Tom & I will drop the naked girls off back home, feed the chickens, and depart for Barberville, where we are scheduled to play the last dance at 10:00. Then…who knows. We will probably drive home so as to be here to feed the critters first thing. Then, it’s back to Barberville for more pickin’ and fiddlin’ – a midday gig and an early afternoon dance.

Hence the book of maps.