Despite an overactive planning gene and the best of intentions, life rarely adheres to the script.
In the prior week or so, I specifically dyed four hanks of 10/2 cotton for an experiment in creating a gradient-type warp.
I took six colors: Yellow, Orange, Pink, Fuchsia, Purple, and Grey.
The first hank used the yellow, orange, and pink. The second featured orange, pink, and fuchsia. I continued in that pattern for the last two hanks. I named the color way Daphne:
I was thrilled with the colors and anxious to weave off a warp to try it out.
Saturday, I met a sweet friend for lunch in Comfort, Texas, but after I returned home, I worked on the oldest warp.
This was originally a 25-yard warp I put on the 40-inch Evangeline back in November for cowls. I cut half of it off in December for gifts, and it languished after that.
By Sunday afternoon, it yielded four more cowls and eight tea towels.
These cowls were woven with hand spun wool weft
The towels used 8/2 cotton weft
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Once I cleared the loom, I began winding the hanks onto spools. My plan was to pull from four spools at a time using the SawyerBee warping square to beam sectionally.
The first two hanks were no problem.
The third hank was a pill.
Now, I understand when dyeing and rinsing thread, things are going to get twisted and tangled. I have done this dozens of times; however, this hank gave me fits, even though I had secured it with ties in several places.
I spent an hour trying to get it to unwind nicely from the swift through the meter and onto the spools.
Nope.
It was not cooperative.
That was fine.
I decided life is too damned short to fiddle with recalcitrant thread.
With great satisfaction and a bit of gusto, I cut it right off the swift and unceremoniously dumped it in the trash can with little more than a good riddance and absolutely no backward glance.
My weaving queue is miles long.
Did I even glance at it before deciding what the next project was?
Of course, not.
Years ago, I bought a cone of the palest buttery yellow. It was gorgeous. I used it often, then it was gone.
I have tried to replace it several times, to no avail.
In those attempts, I ended up with two cones of bright yellow. Each was purchased a couple of years apart.
The joke was on me, having acquired the same color twice only to have them coordinate with nothing else in my stash.
I had well over two pounds of it.
Why not make a solid warp of the bright yellow 36-inches wide and 8-yards long?
Indeed.
Why not?
And, that is exactly what I did.
In no time, I had 8-yards of 8/2 cotton with a sett of 24 and 36-inches wide for a total of 864 ends.
Then what?
As this was completely unplanned, I had not scoured my library, Pinterest board, or Handweaving.net of possible drafts.
I wanted something with a subtle pattern that would feature the weft I had in mind.
This one from Handweaving.net jumped out at me:
It is similar to the one I am using on the 32" Lil Miss:
With nothing to lose, I used some leftover 8/2 in natural to test my warp before using some fuchsia I had in a shuttle:
SUCCESS!
There were no threading or sleying errors!
Now, while completely and imperfectly human, I do not often have threading errors. I make all sorts of mistakes ALL the time; however, when it comes the threading, I have a system, which helps catch my oops early on.
On social media, I frequently encounter people sharing their distress over finding a threading error once they have sleyed the reed and tied on or discovering they are short a certain number of heddles after they have spent hours threading, only to have to move heddles around or order more.
I have great compassion and empathy when I read those posts. It has happened to all of us at one time or another.
While I do make mistakes and have a penchant for learning things the hard way, I rarely make the same mistake twice.
Except, of course, when ordering what I think is the palest yellow (see above).
I am steadfast about a few things.
I do not move heddles from one harness or loom to another.
I do not add or remove heddles for projects.
Period.
Not only am I fortunate that I have more than one loom, but I typically plan ahead.
I know, at all times, exactly how many heddles are on each shaft for every loom. I keep a project page on Ravelry where I document the specifics for each.
If I have too many heddles on any shaft, I simply incorporate the empty heddles evenly between the threaded heddles as I thread. Thus, I do not have a problem with extra heddles crowding my weaving on the sides.
For the current project, I had 864 ends (sett of 24 multiplied by 36-inches wide is 864).
My pattern repeat was 44.
864 divided by 44 is 19.636.
Thus, I expected to have no more than 20 repeats of the pattern across this warp.
Studying the pattern, here was my heddle count per repeat:
Shaft 8: 4
Shafts 7 through 2: 6
Shaft 1: 4
For 20 repeats, I needed the following number of heddles per harness:
Shaft 8: 80
Shafts 7 through 2: 120
Shaft 1: 80
On the 40-inch Evangeline, I have 140 heddles per shaft.
This means I had 60 extra heddles on each shafts 8 and 1, as well as 20 extra heddles per shaft on harnesses 7 through 2.
I thread heddles from right to left.
I moved 10 heddles to the far right on all harnesses 8 through 1, as I count the harnesses from back to front. Those 10 heddles were half of the 20 extra I had on shafts 7 through 2. The other 10 were to rest on the far left side of the project. The other 40 extra heddles on shafts 8 and 1 would be scattered throughout the warp.
I then pulled 6 heddles on each shaft. This was my first repeat. I only needed four heddles on shafts 8 and 1, but I pulled the two extra anyway, as I wanted to disperse the extra heddles evenly among the threaded ones.
The purpose of pulling groups of heddles in the same order and number of the pattern is a built-in check system.
When I get to the end of the first repeat, if I have too few heddles on one shaft and too many on another, I know I have made a threading error.
It is far easier to find and correct an error with 44 thread ends than it is with 864.
Going in, I knew I would have two extra heddles on shafts 8 and 1. Once I finished the repeat, I simply moved those two empty heddles on those shafts to the right before counting out the next repeat bundle.
It is that simple, but this system has served me incredibly well.
In addition, I have a second opportunity to check my threading when I sley the reed.
With the breast beam open and resting on the floor, I stand to sley the reed. This gives me the opportunity to see where the threads are coming from. Depending on the heddle in which they are threaded, each of the threads comes to me at a different angle.
With practice, it is easy to spot if I have missed a heddle in the pattern or threaded two side-by-side.
By the time I sley the reed, I have memorized the pattern, no matter how complex. I repeat the sequence in my head, as I pull threads, two-at-a-time, to sley the reed.
Once I lash on and weave to close the gap and test the pattern, I have the last opportunity to catch threading (or sleying) errors.
In this instance, there were none, thankfully.
YAY!
Here are the colors I dyed for Daphne, including what's left of the third hank that I was able to wind before I chucked it.
I have 260 grams of the first and second colors wound. I did not bother to spool the fourth hank. I will leave that for another day and a separate project.
However, the first set of spools using the yellow, orange, and pink is perfect.
I have no idea what this cloth is for.
Truly.
I briefly thought it might make several sweet baby blankets, but I have not decided.
I could cut it up for aprons.
I could slice it into three even panels to whip stitch together for a throw.
I have no idea.
However, I am absolutely thrilled with the combination of yellow warp and hand-dyed weft.
Making limoncello out of lemons works for me.
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