Indigo reflections: On time

As I stand in my backyard, an unexpectedly gentle breeze blowing on this warm August morning in South Carolina, with my indigo dyeing equipment set up and another bunch of yarn and fabric about to experience the magic of indigo, I feel at once both primitive and very modern.  It is the irony of using ancient dyeing techniques in the 21st century, the juxtaposition of plastic 5-gallon buckets and rubber kitchen gloves with a dyestuff in use since at least 2400 B.C. It is the continuum of craft, of beauty, of art, of color.

One aspect of the irony of MY being involved with indigo is the amount of time and patience it requires (all of which are worth it. Totally.)  I'm not terribly good at waiting unless I have trained myself to see the value in the time as it passes.  I can too easily get impatient for something good to happen or to get on to my next project or to finish the task at hand. 

Indigo dyeing takes TIME. 

Unless you have a spot that is always dedicated to dyeing in your home or yard, there must be set up time.  The dye vat has to be prepped and the chemical reactions must occur (all in their own time) and the fabric or yarn must be made ready.  The time in the vat itself seems like the smallest portion of the process.  A mere 5 minutes in the greenish liquid then necessitates at least 15 or more minutes for oxidation.  Once the dyeing part is complete, comes the soaking in vinegar, the washing, the rinsing and, in the case of yarn, the multiple repetitions of the soaking, washing and rinsing in order for the excess dye to be removed.      It takes time.

Learning to love indigo and to understand it and learn the lessons it has to teach, takes time.  When I first began dyeing I was impressed with it, of course.  Years of dyeing Easter eggs and using fabric paint and painting walls and craft projects prove that I love crafts with color as much as the next gal.  But it wasn't until I kept at it and the weeks stretched into months and the months stretched into years (OK, as of now a year and a half), that I began to connect with the it.  No longer is this merely a method to turn fabric and yarn blue.  I could do that with a bottle of Rit Dye and have much more reliable, consistent, quick results.   It isn't just about the color, because if it were, then we would only use synthetic indigo, never the natural stuff that takes so long and can be a little moody like a teenager in the summer.  Indigo dyeing is a lot like teaching the skills involved in knitting.  It is something that cannot be hurried.  It sometimes takes tact and finesse and encouragement and nurturing to introduce dye to fiber or knitting to a newbie.  It takes time.

When I am spending time with my dye vat as I did today (and twice last week--now you know why all my house work hasn't been finished), I think about time.  I think about the time it takes to dye, the time it takes to learn from indigo, and the time that has passed over the many centuries--time in which indigo was the most prized of colors, the color of royalty, the color that was traded and revered and used as medicine and currency.  I am caught in the middle; I am the student, as indigo teaches me about its wealth and magic, and I am the teacher, passing on what I learn to others so that the continuum will last.  It is only a moment of time, yet it is my moment with indigo and as the sun comes over the giant, moss-draped Live Oak next door, it shines on my moment, on my modest place in the rich history of this dye stuff, and I am changed as surely as the fibers in my hands are now a deep, dark blue.

Simple Knitting Tips: Lighting

Today's simple knitting tip is about lighting, but it is also about SEEING.

You've all seen it: the homespun illustration depicting Ma knitting by firelight in a log cabin, or maybe a little house on a prairie.  I have always wondered how she managed.  I would have been the pioneer mom who did her chores by firelight and her knitting in the open doorway with the chickens underfoot.  I just need good light to see my stitches.

I like to knit using as much natural light as possible.  There are some who have had success with products like the Ott light, but I've not tried them myself. 

The darker the yarn (and my boys like their yarns dark and conservative-looking), the more light I need.  My solutions are two-fold:

1. Knit by a window during the day.
2. Knit something bright during the evening, while sitting next to a lamp.

Why is this not more earth-shattering?  Because:

1. I do not have an Ott Light
2. These are Simple Knitting Tips, as opposed to complicated ones.

So much of the stress in my own life comes from over-complicating things (just ask my kids!) and when I can manage to slow-down, take a deep breath, and think clearly about something, very often the solution really is that simple.  Do I feel a tad guilty when choosing the simple solution when all around me are people who are crazily spinning their wheels making life more complicated than it has to be?  Yes, a little.  I figure we are all on a journey and everyone is at different places and probably most of them will work it out that they could relax more and enjoy life. (Certainly if they read my blog they will get tips that will help them, but wisdom comes from acting on the knowledge we have gained...)

My point is--buy special lighting if you need to, sit by a sunny window if you can, and remember to consider all your options, even the ones that seem too easy.  As Red Green always says, "Remember, I'm pulling for ya! We're all in this together!"

Simple Knitting Tips: Knit for Others

Found these cute labels at Nice & Knit

If you're new to knitting, you may be a little unsure of the suitability of your finished product as a gift to another.  Let me dispel this doubt.  Give!  It is an incredible feeling to knit a scarf and give it to someone and actually see them wearing it. (This is the *only* reason I stare at my children when they are wearing knitted items I made.  Honest.)

Here, in random order, are some reasons why it is so important to give your knitting away:

1. It gives you an excuse to knit more, just in case you feel like you need one.
2. It wraps that person in a tangible expression of love.
3. It can often motivate the recipient to purchase more yarn for you. (!!)
4. It prevents the dreaded I Own Too Many Scarves Syndrome. Once you have given half of what you've knit away, you own Just Enough Scarves.
5. Knitted items make great gifts.
6. Knitting for charity is always in style, but that's a whole 'nuther blog post!

I love getting gifts that were made by hand--all that time spent, making something for ME!  It makes me feel appreciated and special.  I never look at a handmade gift and think, "Wow, they haven't quite mastered that skill, have they?"  Maybe I'm just unusually nice, but I'm guessing that MOST people don't think badly of the skills of the crafter when that crafter gives them a handmade gift. 

So, go ahead, give scarves this year for Christmas.  Or dishcloths. Or whatever you have learned to knit. Be proud of your accomplishments and then go start a new project!  I'm fond of green, in case I happen to be one of the lucky ones on your list...