From time to time I’m asked to open my working studio for groups that want to visit. It never seems to work out, but I’m trying to remedy that this year. I’ve blocked out August 1-9 to do a residency in my own studio. That’s a great time of year to see many of the plants I grow and gather for natural dye.
I won’t be offering any studio workshops during this residency, but will be dyeing and ecoprinting, and will also demonstrate looping and nalbinding, spinning, and hopefully scouring fleece and carding wool.
If you would like to visit, please contact me via email for directions and details. And there are a few things you should know in advance:
Studio hours will be 10am to 12 noon and 2 to 4 pm. I’m happy to direct you to other places you might want to visit during the lunch break.
I don’t have toilet facilities in my studio (I don’t even have running water). Please plan accordingly 🙂.
Also, my studio isn’t air conditioned and can get quite warm in the afternoon, especially when I have dyepots going.
Please leave pets at home when you visit, and be prepared for the resident canine greeter.
I can’t guarantee a particular activity on a particular date. Much of what I do is influenced by weather. A day or two of rain doesn’t halt the work at that time of year, but definitely can change what I do and when.
Children are welcome — especially 4-H members. But please limit groups to a maximum of 8 people, and be prepared to supervise kids of all ages. This is a working dye studio with burners and hot liquids at multiple heights and lots of ways to get stuff on your clothes.
Bill and I will have some of our work for sale here during this residency. We accept credit cards through Square.
Finally, I ask that you please understand that I may have to cancel some or all of this residency. My mother is on hospice. I do my best to plan for the unexpected, but you just never know. When you contact me via email for directions and details, I will remind you to confirm before making the trip. Got to take care of family first.
Yesterday, I sent an email to all the students registered in my online looping courses to let them know their ecourse classrooms will close in early December 2019. I’ve had some technical problems with the site, most of which occur when I’m up to my eyeballs in elder care. I closed registration to online courses last summer while I considered what to do. After some serious pondering, I’ve decided to admit I will never attain the administrative and security skills for managing an online course site. Those are much different skills than producing educational content. I really can’t afford to pay someone to do the things that are out of my skill set. So I am choosing to simplify my life. Elder care has been a huge commitment for me the past few year. I need to have shorter lists of undone tasks, and more hours in the studio than at the computer. So I thank each and every one of you who participated in online classes over the years. It’s been inspiring and I’ve learned so much from all of you. I hope to see you in real life, or maybe on Instagram. And I wish all of you the very best. Thank you for what was a great chapter in my life. Now on to new beginnings!
In June, a friend who works at a local mill got me some basswood bark. It took several weeks, but I have most of it processed now and it is beautiful.
I wasn’t entirely sure how this would work out. David’s wife got the bark to my husband while I was out of town at the Willow Gathering in Decorah. That was mid-June. I don’t know when the tree was cut, or how long it had been sitting around before it got to my place. And I had never before processed any basswood from such mature trees.
But I wanted to see if I could get fiber from bark slabs that would otherwise go in the chipper.
I’m back! After my last post, I started a training program that was supposed to help me build skills for a better-paying job. It quickly became clear that training was only a priority for me, the long commute was going to be bad in winter, and the training was unlikely to lead to something better than the business I’ve spent 20 years building. I’m very happy to be back. For right now, I’m mostly just tying up loose ends and catching up on things I promised but never delivered. As the fog of grief and exhaustion lifts, though, I’m starting to see what changes I might make as I move forward. I’d love to hear your ideas as well, and I’ll keep you posted as plans become goals. In the meantime, thank you for your support. I love what I do and the wonderful people I meet doing it. I hope you’ll be part of this next chapter!
It’s been a long season of letting go for me. My father died earlier this month. My mother’s dementia continues to progress. And after several years of cutting back on my fiber art business to manage my parents’ care, I’m letting go of some old ideas about who I am, what I do, and what’s most important in my life. All that’s missing is weight loss and a new hair color to signal big changes ahead.
I haven’t managed the first or ruled out the second. But I have made some decisions. First, though, I have to share an update on an old story.
In 2009 I wote about an unfinished needlework sampler that’s been in my family since about 1815. Now that my dad is gone, I hope to re-home it and other objects with other family members. And I wanted to add some information to the written information that was given to my parents along with the sampler. So I did a little internet sleuthing.
It’s been a while since I took time to write, so to catch up a bit I’ll focus on topics — starting with willow. I’ll write on indigo and other natural dye materials soon.
This season has been a good one for peeling willow bark. I was able to peel before and after going to the Willow Gathering at Luther College in June. With some of the early harvest it was easy to separate outer and inner bark, so in addition to natural dye material I got a basket full of inner bark dried for cordage.
My studio has been getting a thorough purge in preparation for a garage sale this weekend. It’s been sort of like an archaeological dig, as I’ve been finding materials and samples from classes I haven’t taught in years. But the most ruthless culling has been on on our book shelves. Here’s what goes away:
It was a risk to set out indigo so early here in northern Wisconsin, even under cloches. So far, it’s only a partial success, but I’m learning more about how much I can get away with where the growing season is so short.
All of the indigo growing in double buckets seemed OK after nighttime temperatures dipped to 30 degrees. Then it got even colder.
They might have fared better if I had given them additional cover when the forecast was a low of 28 degrees. But the point of this experiment (besides extending the season) is to see how much I can get away with. So that night, we covered the asparagus and left the indigo to live or die under the cloches. The plants were definitely frosted. They might have recovered eventually, but today I replanted with the leggy seedlings I had indoors. This is still earlier than I’ve ever had indigo out.
The indigo in the recycled horse trough bed was also frosted, but two of the plants looked good enough for another experiment. I replanted some, but kept two of the frosted ones to see how they compare in a couple of weeks.
If what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, these frosted indigo plants might become very strong indeed.
I’ve lived in Northern Wisconsin for 30 years and the only month where I’ve never seen frost is July — but I’ve heard it can happen. My growing season for tender plants like Japanese indigo is generally from early June to mid-September. This year, I’m trying to extend that season on the front end. I’m hoping I won’t have to bring potted plants indoors in the fall to protect them from frost while seeds mature for the next year’s crop.
Previously, I started my indigo seeds at the end of April and set the plants out under milk jug cloches after Memorial Day. Our ground can stay cold well into June, and the cloches act like mini greenhouses. This year, though, I started seeds in early April, and set the seedlings out under cloches on April 24.
We’re expecting overnight temperatures in the high 20s later this week, which might put a quick end to this experiment. To be safe, I have more seedlings indoors and can replant if necessary.
This is the first time I’ve used a heat mat under the flat while germinating the seeds. In the past, I put containers on top of our 55 gallon aquarium. Without the aquarium for warmth, I splurged on a $17 heat mat that I only used for a couple of days.
I don’t have grow lights, so my seedlings get leggy pretty fast. On April 20, I transferred some seedlings into yogurt containers. That should give them enough soil to thrive in case they’re indoors another four to six weeks. These are my insurance policy, in case this experiment in pushing the season fails.
If the seedlings that went outside already do succumb to frost this week, I have seedlings left in the flat for replanting — several times, if necessary. But I have high hopes for this experiment. I’ll keep you posted.
Years ago at a workshop, I picked up another basketmaker’s trimmings to make cuttings for my own willow patch. Over the years, that variety’s leaves and bark have become among my favorite for natural dye. But I never knew what variety it was.
This video shows key features for identifying willow species in the United States. I believe the willow I’ve been trying to identify is peachleaf willow, salix amygdaloides.
Before I started growing named cultivars bred for basketry, I harvested and wove a lot of the willow that grows wild here in rural northern Wisconsin. I wish this video had been around then!