nougèr (spun)

After spinning and plying, I dyed the finished yarn using a natural plant dye prepared from the late summer leaves of the walnut tree, “nougèr” in the local dialect.

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"nougèr"

Ingredients: 32g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was white Berrichon du Cher, from Gèdre.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. 

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply. Naturally dyed with foraged walnut leaves.

Quantity: 30g giving 32m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

pinha (spun)

The natural greyish brown fleece of the Berrichon cross made me think immediately of the pine cones - “pinha” - that litter the forest floors of the valley at this time of year.

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"pinha"

Ingredients: 38g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was black Berrichon cross, from Gèdre.

 

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. .  

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 35g giving 38m of finished yarn

 

WPI: 9

 

Yarn Weight: DK

 

nère (spun)

I began spinning this naturally black fleece - “nère” - as the days started getting slightly shorter. With the arrival of the night a little earlier each day, I’ve started thinking about my plans for the darker (and colder) evenings.

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"nère"

Ingredients: 40g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was black Barègeoise, shorn on the hillside during the Fête des bergers.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. .  

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 40g giving 56m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

 

néou (spun)

The autumn is slowly creeping into the valley and soon the first snow - “néou” - will fall on the surrounding hills. It’s time to bring the flocks down from the pastures ready for the arrival of winter.

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"néou"

Ingredients: 25g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was white Berichon du Cher from Gèdre.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using a semi-worsted technique. Spun out in the fields at Payolle. 

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 22g giving 18m of finished yarn

WPI: 9

Yarn Weight: DK

trois nuits sous les pins

Trois heures pour y aller, trois heures pour en revenir, le nez au vent, les yeux brillants et le cœur léger à arpenter le sud ouest de la France. Lourdes. Pau. Dax. Et enfin la mer. 

Trois nuits sous les pins, à se délecter des couleurs des fougères, à cueillir la calune, à écouter le brame du cerf, le cri de la hulotte, le vent dans les arbres. 

Trois jours à être si heureux d'être là, de revoir la mer. De respirer un peu. De s'échapper. Avec mon amour.

standing still

We went to Lourdes and had a picnic by the lake. 

A kingfisher darted back and forth, nothing more than a flash of russet and bright blue skimming across the limpid waters. 

But not everything in nature rushed around. A heron stood for over an hour, poised and concentrated, waiting patiently for the right moment. 

Not everything in nature rushes around. Why should I? 

golden days

Late summer days spent with his parents, then mine. Golden, sun drenched days wrapped up in a total disregard for time, where the big event of the day is going for a picnic, and the only decision to be taken is which mountain meadow to visit next.

I adored their two week holiday out here with us, so quickly settling back into the familiarity of their company. It felt good to have them in our valley, tucked up in their cosy little gîte on the other side of the stream. To be able to just pop round for a cup of tea in their garden each day on my way home from school.

We walked along familiar paths, learnt tai-chi in the open air, gorged ourselves on the last of the bilberries and swam in icy mountain lakes. We made dinner for one another, caught up on news, knitted in the garden and drank coffee in nearly every café in the village. 

I soaked up every ray of late summer sun, every drop of family time. Like last year, precious memories to hold on to when Autumn eventually falls into our laps.

lake side

I'm not quite ready to fold summer away just yet. There'll be time enough for knitting cardigans and gathering walnuts, for curling up beside the fire with a good book or making the first batch of spicy pumpkin soup. For now, I'm revelling in these last, most glorious days of summer. 

Up in the mountains, there are still bilberries to be picked. Unexpected foxgloves blooming around hidden corners. And lakes which just need to be swum in... 

The colder the water...the more we laugh! 

bilberries

The hillsides are still full of myrtilles sauvages, wild bilberries. Knowing that this glut isn't going to last, we could have picked bucketfulls of these gorgeous little fruits to turn into jams or tartes in the kitchen back at home. But we preferred to follow the lead from the flocks of sheep: sit down and gorge ourselves on the hillside, straight from the bush. 

breath

Rough grass beneath our feet. Forest paths and fields of scree. The ceiling so high, so inviting. And then this moment. This smell. This taste. These mountains in my lungs. My muscles unfurl. My chest rises and falls. The clouds, the sun, the earth. My breath.