Just when I thought I was safe, knitting and felting away in my wooly comfort zone, my dear friend C. introduced me to the dangerous and exotic world of weaving.
We met last week, both of us driving over two hours to see each other. Though her main goal was to warp and weft me into her own obsession. I thought I could politely try it, make a mess of it, declare myself incompetent and go on about my life.
No such luck.
Here I am working the first passes…
That’s an inkle loom if you have never seen one.
I took it home with me and proceeded to work on it, in a casual way.
I practiced getting it tidy on the edges. And began to succeed after a while..
I’d sit and weave for 5 or 10 minutes and then go do something else. I wasn’t working on it every minute mind you, but pretty soon, I had this…
It went remarkably fast!
I was having a weaver’s high at this point and decided if I was going to pursue this craft, I had to face my fear of warping.
No. Not Star Trek warp.
Warping the loom.
Which seemed scary as hell.
I don’t like to be scared. So I ran straight into the dragon’s lair and following the directions I found on line, and warped that puppy up before I could lose my nerve.
I didn’t really have proper yarn for the job, and I found out pretty quickly that fuzzy, soft, lightweight alpaca wasn’t a good choice, but hey, I’m in learning mode. And believe me, I learned a lot!
I forged ahead and created a rustic wonky strap which actually sort of fits in the general scheme of my life here on the edge of the woods.
I experimented mightily to try to make good weaving out of this yarn but as you can see, none of my efforts worked all that well.
However as is my wont, I saved my dignity by getting philosophical…
Here is what I wrote to C. this morning… more or less covering my fanny…