Oh, What a Different Post This has Become

Hello! It's really been a while. I hope you are well. And weaving. My life has been... eventful and same-old at once, but included no weaving for four months.

First thing first; I did something unthinkably stupid. After I wove the first tied (unit) weave sample in early July and had loom problems, (the shafts weren't lifting/dropping propery,) I only tied some, not all, of the ends in front of the reed, thinking I'll get to the next sample as soon as the loom was fixed. But it took a couple of weeks to get the problem sorted. And then one morning, on my way out to weed, I tested to make sure the lifting was indeed fixed, without tying or advancing the warp so they wouldn't slip out of place. (Insert head-exploding emoji.) The shed on the big loom is generous, so in doing this, many untied ends slipped behind the reed, (which would have been no big deal,) but some slipped out of the heddle as well, and at 42EPI, it's tricky to remedy. 

 

The truth is, I wasn't thrilled with the threading anyway; I thought 11 was too many pattern shafts for the kind of look I think I had I mind, so I was already thinking of rethreading. But to have the warps slip through because of laziness thus having to rethread was disappointing-with-swear-words. The warp is still sitting in a hot mess, but I'll get to it. And threading will be better than before. :-D

 

I've also been working off and on on that post where I try to explain "my" kind of tied (unit) weave. I've been weaving tied weave in a particular way since my first warp, it's been a discovery/revelation to relearn how it's different from the usual, to try to explain what I do instinctively on the loom in writing, in the correct tied weave language. The weaving itself is not a big deal; if you came over to my basement I could show you in a couple of minutes, and if you know tied weaves you'll get the gist. Or do you even want to know? And if I insist on telling you, how much about the normal tied weaves should I to include; or skip the normal bits and give you just numbers so you can work it out if you ever want to? Do you even want to know what I do? 

 

I'll probably write about it (badly) in the not too distant future, because it's the sort of thing I enjoy clarifying for myself. At the root of this indecisiveness is my faltering fluency, not with the structures themselves but the language of tied weaves. Still, onwards. 

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August was a bad month that included a short hospital stay, (Ben, not me, but a first for either of us beyond visiting or routine checks;) Japanese pension screw up; bank pension fund screw up; and insurance non-response, none by my doing. Phew! In the end they all came out right, but I was exhausted, and felt really dumb and old.

 

I have a circle of friends who aren't what you call "keen Kiwi gardeners" but who had success in their veg patches last summer, and very early on they started talking about this year's crop. So I joined them, ridiculously early for me, preparing a veg patch, in between regular weeding. My veg patch prep involves lots of clay breaking, and because of my bad right hip, I tend not to use the large forks/shovels but hand tools, which sprung a whole new right shoulder problem! Still, I got some area cleared and seedlings screaming to go into the ground planted. Some apparently much too early e.g. tomatoes, but they've survived; in fact, practically all survived so now I have two rows of over-crowded acid-free and mini toms, but I'm loathed to take any out. Peppers, on the other hand, I sowed twice to no avail, so I shall try a third time. 

 

In September garden work was a soothing antidote to August, and I was genuinely thankful. The title of this post refers to the change in my mood from my end-of-August draft to mid-September draft, when I was singing praise to Mother Nature. But came October and my body was hurting all over and all the time. I longed to return to the Great Indoors, the big loom in particular. Almost on a whim, we went away to Golden Bay not two hours away for five days in late October, (the first time we left the Nelson City limits since January 2021, no restrictions or anything, just the way we live now,) which was soul-cleansing.
 

Yesterday was the first summer day with too-bright lights and sharp, itchy sun; it'll be pretty much thus until around April, and we're told it's going to be a hot summer, but I'm still about halfway done with the veg garden alone, so more Sisyphean work for me.

I am more of a flower gardener, so this veg garden thing feels so high maintenance. But food prices remain high, in addition to shortage/absence of certain veggies due to weather events, and more immediately, so much veg now comes in plastic packaging, I do feel virtuous growing my own. I like the idea of being able to pick as many/few as we need for each meal. Just quietly between us, I wished Ben would take more interest in the garden, but he's been so completely disengaged in the last few years; although with some coaxing/begging, he will help me with the big/heavy stuff.

 

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This "more gardening" has been part of my effort to become a more self-contained, contented old person, gardening being one of the things old folks are supposed to love. I want to be a happier old person, not obsessed about constantly being informed, not having to form/express opinions, being a more pleasant, satisfied soul. You know. 

 

To that end, from time to time I visualize being such an old person, but in those visualization, there is never joint pains; the work is more rewarding; weeds are much slower to return; and somehow bird/cat damages are kept to a minimum. In real life, I have never caught up with the garden work in most of the 27 years in this house; for the next four months no matter how much hours I put in, the place will always look unkept; and the work gets harder on the old body. Grumble, grumble.

At times I also worry about hypothetical circumstances where we must suddenly move out of this house because of health reasons. This house with many steps on a steep hill is not for the frail. When we bought it in our mid-30s, we joked we hated finding/buying a house so much one of us would move out in a wooden box; but now it's becoming clear if we're lucky enough to live a long and relatively healthy life, we will probably move into a house on a flat section, if not an age-care facility, at some point. And when the time comes, never mind the nightmare of all the stuff we own, how much will it cost to hire someone to make sense of all this outside mess? Oh, this has kept me awake many, many nights. Then I dream of spontaneous combustion and try to go back to sleep.

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Lest you think I'm all grumpy and depressed, that's just part of the time. Some days I have enjoyed showing off small sections my winter/spring garden. Before the weeds came back with vengeance. :-D Here are some. 

Oh, I also killed our favorite lime tree by overenthusiastically getting rid of mold on the deck about a meter away. Since late October, this has been a 30cm stick out of the ground. On the other hand, mold returns when it rains.