TLC

Not much spinning has been done around these parts lately. When I moved blogs I expected to be doing a lot more spinning and a lot more blogging about it. The name Freya's Rainbow comes from my spinning wheel - Freya - and well, the rainbow was supposed to be all of the lovely yarn that we would be producing together. It didn't happen.

When I bought my wheel, she was in good condition, merely requiring a drive band to get going. I had a full few months of spinning happily away before I forgot to put her up out of pingling range; and walked into the dining room to find Elsa had pulled apart the scotch tension mechanism, stretching the small springs well past the point of no return.


Last week I finally got around to ordering an Ashford spinning wheel maintenance kit (I bought mine from handspinner.co.uk). This had the scotch tension springs and enough other spares to do a full wheel service.

I started out by disassembling the easy to strip parts and washing the whole wheel down. There was actually quite a lot of grease, dust and rust to remove when I got into it. As I went, I polished each piece - it turns out that winter balm makes for a very good wood conditioner.

I replaced the leather strap that connects the treadle to the conrod (the baton that connects the treadle to the crankshaft and makes the wheel turn every time you put your foot down). I assumed mine would need replacing in the future, but I couldn't believe how worn it was when compared to a brand new one:

As I stripped it down, I realized a little TLC had been in order for quite some time. All of the hooks and metal fixings were tarnished and in need of replacement:

A new scotch tension (the only thing that really needed to be done was, of course, the most finnickety and difficult):

 A final coat of polish:

We are up and running again:

I am a little out of practice, it would seem.

Freya

One other reason that I haven't been blogging so much...

This arrived back in August. The month before I had almost signed up for a two day spinning course at the Weald and Downland Museum in West Sussex. I then realised that the fee for that course plus travel and lunch each day would be better invested in my own wheel...and so it was.

This is an Ashford Traditional wheel from the early 1980's, probably one of the most popular spinning wheel on earth. It was one of the most pleasant eBay experiences I have ever had and I conversed back and forth a little with the seller. She was selling it on behalf of her mother, who now in her nineties, is physically unable to spin anymore. I like second hand objects even more when they come with a backstory, but this made me a little sad. This is already a much loved object in my home and to have given it up after all of those years must have been a sad moment. Still, I was assured that my money would be put to good use and a rare family get together was to be had. Money can sometimes buy happiness.

I decided to name my wheel. I don't know why, but our car has a name (Miguel), my sewing machine has a name (Marlene - another eBay bargain worthy of a post of its own), and so the wheel gets a name - Freya, if you hadn't guessed. We are getting on well enough. A bag of undyed British economy wool, a few hours of book reading and trying to follow instructional videos later and I have just about got the hang of things. It is very relaxing once you get into the rhythm of it.

Like most things, it is great if you have someone to teach you, but unless there is inherent danger in whatever you are trying to pick up, it is usually better to invest in your own equipment and practice practice practice than to splurge on tuition and not have the raw materials to practice with.

The plan for this year is to spin all the yarn that I need for any knitting and crochet I manage to get done. There is so much to learn, so much equipment to acquire as thriftily as possble, so many hours to invest, but it is all a good productive use of my time. Colourful yarn filled adventures...hmmm.

Process

The cure

I haven't spun since late last year, not for lack of desire but rather time and spindle. Mine finally cracked along the shaft that was already held together with particularly fetching holographic gift tape. This occurred just as I spun up my last roving; and at a particularly difficult period of my life and so that was that. Since then, I have missed the spinning, but a new spindle was the last thing on my mind. A series of stressful, anxiety inducing events against a backdrop of pregnancy, work stress and the arrival of a daughter, from the spring of last year to Christmas finally brought me crashing headlong into a wall.  I finally found myself in a therapist's office shining a light on the darkest, mustiest corners of my mind.

This difficult period, I realize now was simply the endgame of a trajectory I have been on since I was 15, one that has manifested as anxiety, panic attacks and depression since then. That the spindle cracked finally from an injury sustained long ago, just as I finally did, makes me all the more attached to that particular craft and I wish I had kept my first, imperfect spindle. I am that spindle.

It is a shame, that when I first presented to my doctor at the age of fifteen, feeling a bit low after a prolonged viral illness, that he didn't dig a bit deeper instead of throwing a diazepam (an anti-anxiety drug that I recently found out will worsen depression) prescription at me. If he had dug a little deeper, he would have referred me to a mental health team - although I realise that this was not commonplace in the early noughties. That mental health team would have probed a bit deeper and my diagnoses would not have been that I needed to pull myself together. That generalized anxiety,  bad dreams, flashbacks and the feeling - no, make that certain knowledge - that I somehow don't belong or deserve to be in this world is actually PTSD  - post traumatic stress disorder. I would never have suspected this, thinking that you had to actually be the victim of a particularly traumatic events to acquire it, but it turns out witnessing a traumatic event, even hearing about it third hand can trigger it. If you have, like me, witnessed several; you have good odds of developing it.

Well, the therapy helped. Just unpacking it all helped, painful and triggering as it all was. I have a lot of work to do and in all honesty I will probably never be fully cured - there are chemical pathways that were laid down when I witnessed those events that will continue to trigger that fight or flight response for many years to come. Now I have the tools to deal with it. I feel the most consistent level of peace I have in years.

I really recommend if you have been feeling low or anxious or paranoid or any other mental malady, that you don't try to just pull yourself together. I realise now that this process of unpacking actually begun a few years ago, with the birth of Gus, with my becoming a parent. This was the time we really began to simplify our lives. Even if I didn't believe that I could ever have a good life filled with good experiences, I could set my family up to have that. The appeal of this quiet pace of life I have wanted for myself, for all of us, I realise, was just my trying to find a little peace when tornadoes were tearing up my mental and emotional landscape. The focus, the mindfulness of a deliberate life, the wanting to contribute something beautiful and lasting to the world. In a way, our son was my saving grace, although that grace took several years to fully infiltrate my mind.

This month I finally bought a new spindle. I never realized just what spinning gave me that all my other crafts did not. Spinning beautifully dyed roving into yarn absorbs my attention like no other craft can. Everything else fades away as I try to perfect my technique (long way to go on that front by BTW) and control the weight and consistency of my yarn. This is what we humans have always done, provided for our own and our families' and our communities' most basic of needs with our own hands and creativity. I have hope that I will eventually get to the point where I can take a sheep, shear it, clean and scour the wool, dye it, card it and spin it and then give that hank of yarn or a finished knitted object to another. That process will link me to the deep time of my human ancestry and the awareness that all situations are temporary. That awareness will bring relief in times of grief and bittersweet grief should it arise in happier moments. Either way, it is a reminder to make best use of the time we have now, right now, because the next moment may never come. I have finally begun to make my peace with that.

This is my cure.

Old friend

At first, it was the queasy fatigue of early pregnancy that stood between me and my then new but cherished friend. After that had passed, it was the frenzy of decluttering and organising that consumed much of my spare time. Finally, last month, when I placed my drop spindle and fibre on the new shelves we had bought to keep precious things precious, I felt a pang of longing and regret. I lifted her down from the shelf, examined her...and realised that in my condition there was no way that we could attempt to (learn to) do productive work together. I couldn't see my own feet, let alone a spindle. She would have to wait a little longer.

Today, she came down from the shelf and (literally) out into the sunshine. I repaired her – within two minutes of her arrival in this house, she was dropped from a fair height onto a tiled hearth. Now with a little TLC and Bostik, she is all patched up, though she still sports a fancy holographic bandage for show. We spent half an hour out in the garden, and celebrated our reunion with a length of purple roving whilst The Boys and The Girl played nicely inside.

This, from the fourth pack of roving I have attempted to spin, is the most even, finest thread I have produced so far; and for a 7 month absence from spinning and a slightly blustery day, its quite an achievement - I might actually produce a usable yarn!. I am still as enamoured with the spinning thing as when, for no good reason, it first captured my imagination. Completely smitten, still.

Needing a push.

Our internet connection is playing up at the moment, so posting will be even more intermittent than it has been of late, until we get it sorted.

It has had its advantages. Many of the odd jobs I have been meaning to do since we moved in over two years ago are now complete. The living room has been painted. The sofa covers have been cleaned and dyed a deep (sticky-fingered-toddler proof) navy. Some more decluttering has been done and some rearranging of furniture. All in all, the house looks a little fresher and a little more welcoming; and it probably would not all have been completed had I had reliable internet access.

This is my favourite time of year, not least because I associate it with starting school and university and a year of learning, challenges and new experiences ahead. Its unlikely I will ever be going back to university; and as my darling OH has just started his mental health nurse training, I am tinged with a little jealousy too. I want to be immersed in piles of books and essays and seminars. I feel stuck in a rut. I haven't really pushed myself mentally since I left university; and my job seems to actively waste away my brain. There is no amount of decorating, crafting and housekeeping that is going to change this fact. I need a real challenge, a push, but in which direction I do not yet know.

The spinning is going better with each attempt and I am hooked. The rhythmic motions and productivity of it are very relaxing. I downloaded Respect the Spindle with Abby Franquemont and ordered the book of the same name and all I can say is I LOVE ABBY FRANQUEMONT. The book and video are beautiful and explain everything so well, at a pace you can practice along to. My spindle of loosely twisted, uneven merino has become finer and more consistent, almost yarn like, in fact...

Mild disgruntlement aside, I am looking forward to the rest of autumn and onwards into a new year. I know that most people have a season that they love and autumn is mine. Whatever you are up to, I hope you make the most of the months ahead, whether the passage of the seasons be winding up or winding down in your hemisphere. Enjoy it.

Another obsession in the making

The last few weeks, pingling child not withstanding, my promise not to buy any more yarn or craft materials until I had wound down my stash has been going quite well.

A few days into our holiday however an idea wafted in on the sea breeze and implanted itself in my brain...I could make my own yarn! I could learn to spin, on a drop spindle first, then progress up the ranks. I could then plant a few dye plants, experiment perhaps with growing my own plant fibres, one day keep sheep and alpacas and angora bunnies...have a dye studio, paint some yarn...yup. A few days into our holiday, in a very rural very arable county with few fibre animals and even fewer craft shops, I became obsessed with the idea of finding a spindle and a book about spinning. Obsessed to the point of insomnia at one point.

Unfortunately, bankrupted by said holiday until payday, I had to wait. The idea didn't fade into the background. Everytime I picked up my knitting, I wanted to be learning to spin at that moment. It has been a long time since an idea has gripped me with such longing for action (I am quite sloth like at heart). In the end, I bit the bullet and dipped into my savings (to be replaced next month) and bought a drop spindle kit.

I am rubbish. So rubbish. I want to be good right now, I want to be practising at every moment of the day and night, I want those pretty dyed rovings (I can't even remember if thats what they are called, I am THAT rubbish) to be pretty handspun yarn and eventually a pretty hand knitted something. Sigh.