summer stash

Spent yesterday morning washing, fulling and blocking the pile of yarns that have been slowly building up beside my spinning wheel over the summer. Some of these will end up in the natural dye pot, others are destined for the Shetland Wool Week KAL.

easing in slowly

September already.  N came back from a mountain walk earlier today, his arms full of parasol mushrooms - my favourite kind of bouquet! And a sure sign that Autumn is loitering...but not yet here.

I'm slowly beginning to resurface from the month that's been, gently easing back into a new, slower, everyday pace.  
 
I am so grateful for a brand new month, for slightly better health and improved mood, for scrumping in apple orchards and for gentle afternoon walks, for freshly washed sheets and home-made summer vegetable soups. 

And I am grateful to have emerged from the haze of the cure into the golden, sun-drenched daze of late summer.

late summer daze

Late summer days daze with my darling.
The sun is back, and the pastures are still full of flowers and cows.

An afternoon spent in the shade of an old barn, walking barefoot through the meadows, picking wild flowers, searching for bilberries and carding wall.

I also cast on a couple of samples for a WIP...

swatches

I've been sampling yarns this week. Not only to try out the different colour combinations, but also the different fibre construction. Now I've got a handful of little samples of both woolen and (semi) worsted spun yarns, I've made a couple of swatches of the Fair Isle pattern to see how the colours and yarns work together. The results were rather surprising. 

I had expected worsted spun (bottom sample) to be the ideal construction for Fair Isle because it affords a crisp stitch definition which really shows off the design. However, whilst considerably more fuzzy, the woolen spun yarn (top sample) was softer, airier and more lightweight. Both swatches were knit with the same weight yarn and needles and finished in the same way (washed in hot water and blocked) and yet the worsted sample faired better in the finishing and didn't suffer from shrinkage as much as the woolen sample. 

Now armed with these knitted and blocked samples, I think I'll stick with what I know and spin woolen for the time being. I'm excited with my semi-worsted results though, as hopefully I'll be able to have a go at spinning some sock yarn next!

worsted samples

Whilst the tent was drying in the sunshine and N was off for a stroll in the meadows, I made the most of the fresh air to play with my wheel. I tried out some new carding and spinning methods I picked up over the weekend. 

It's the first time I've tried spinning semi-worsted, and the finished yarn looks wonderfully smooth and uniform, so different from my fuzzy woollen yarns. Soon I'll have enough to be able to cast on a couple of swatches for my shwook hat to see which effect I prefer.

wild camping at Payolle

 

After a month stuck in the mud, a few days beneath the Pyrenean sky. A few days spent in another valley, outside, spinning in wild spaces. 

A few cays for carding, experimenting, sampling.

 

A few days of breathing deeply, of feeling the morning sun on our faces, the evening breeze at our backs. Nights of building fires, gazing at stars, falling asleep to the sound of cow bells. Days of spinning beside bubbling streams, searching for blueberries amongst the wild heather.

 (After a night in Serris, we wild-camped the next day at Payolle).

la cure

July and August. 

For the French, these are the holiday months. Suncream. Straw hats. Ice creams. Coffees on pavement cafés. Apéros on the balcony. Festivals and village fêtes stretching long into the night.  Market stalls groaning under the weight of plump, sweet summer fruits. Peaches, nectaries, plums, apricots, strawberries. Melons. 

For me this year, July and August have been a time to emerge from my hibernation. To slow down, take stock. And finally get looked after. 

Daily baths in thermal pools. Hosed down. Plastered in hot, stinky, thermal mud. Balneotherapy. Physiotherapy. Group therapy. 

Eating better. Sleeping better. Walking better. Living better. Feeling (a little) better. 

As hippy-dippy as it might sound, my time spent up at the thermal baths has felt like a re-birth. 

It hasn't cured me. Sadly nothing will do that. But it has helped me to accept the situation. Myself. My life now and my life in the future. 

At the end of July, I was waiting for the baths, a downtrodden and defeated English girl. At the end of August, I've emerged a more confident, more hopeful English girl, who's now a little more French around the edges. (After a month as a curiste, it would be impossible not to feel a little more gallic, after all).

July and August. The holiday healing months. Healing my body. Healing my mind. Healing my soul. Three weeks up at Barèges. Hours spent being pampered. Making wonderful new friends. Dreaming of other possibilities...

Days saturated with mud and water and golden summer light.

woollen samples

I've been working on the yarns for my Shwook hat. I made the first batch of samples, spun from rolags in the woolen way. Next I'll have a go at semi-worsted spinning of the same yarns to see if there is a difference once knit.

where the clouds begin

Dormir le plus tard que possible, c'était l'objectif. Mais c'est la fin d'été. Et il fait beau ce matin. Après une nuit de camping sauvage, avec une telle rosée, une telle lumière, eh bien, une grasse mat', c'est impossible.

On se lève avant l'aube et sort de la tente. On se mouille les pieds en attendant l'arrivée des premiers rayons de soleil au dessus les sommets environnants.

 
N range la matériel tranquillement. Cette fois-ci, il n'y a pas de vaches à chasser. Je m'assoit et me laisse imprégner par tout ce qui m'entoure: l'air frais, la rosée, les biches, la calune. Je respire profondément et me ressource avec l'air frais du petit matin. Je dévore tout avec mes yeux; les textures, les sons, la température, les couleurs et l'énergie. Ainsi, je me fixe mon objectif pour la journée.

J'aime le temps changeant de l'été, sa futilité, son manque de volonté d'équilibre.

Et dimanche matin, j'ai adoré regarder les nuages ​​commencer.

We had intended to sleep as long as possible. But this being the end of summer, this being the morning after a night of wild camping on a favourite crest, this being such a morning, with such a view, it is of course impossible. 

We rise before the sun and head out of the tent. Are feet get soaked in the dewy grass as we wait for the moment we can begin to see the sun lifting from beyond the hilltops, brightening the sky. 

N quietly tidies away the tent. No cows to shoo away this time. I sit amidst my surroundings, breathing deeply as I renew my body with fresh morning air. Taking in the textures, sounds, temperatures, colors and energy, I set an intention for my day. 

I love the mercurial weather of summer, its flightiness, its lack of steady intentions.

And Sunday morning, I loved watching the clouds begin.  

les chemins de la laine

De retour d'un week-end ensoléillé, riche en rencontres, en échanges et en découvertes. 

Un week-end à tisser des liens d'amitié entre tricoteuses, feutrières, teinturières, tisserandes, éléveuses de brébis, fileuses et fileurs... 

...à papoter en trois langues...

 ...à refaire le monde, autour de la laine...

 

...et à peaufiner mes compétences de cardage de la laine, en occitan.

Je reviens ressourcée, inspirée, apaisée, la tête pleine d'idées et l'esprit plein de soleil...

Just back from a magical, sunny weekend: making new friendships and exchanging ideas with a fantastic group of local hand knitters, felters, hand-dyers, weavers, sheep farmers and spinners. 

We've spent the last two days building new friendships...

 ...babbling in three languages...

 ....putting the world to rights, through the medium of wool...

...and (for me!) improving my handcarding skills, in Occitan... 

I'm back home recharged, uplifted and inspired...