Heat crowds out inspiration and industry. That is what is happening (or NOT happening) in the Etherknitter kingdom. My knitting nook project footrest looks like this:
You can see Marla, and her diary. The blanket square for Kerstin is on the right. Below that is the fantasized start of Leaf Lace Shawl (pattern only, no start). I'm a realist. If this other stuff is sitting around growing mold, Leaf Lace hasn't got a chance. By the time I get to to casting on, it will be the Fall of Lace, in more ways than one. Littered under the fiber is the stray receipt, and row counting debris.
Naturally, spinning represents less of a sweaty time commitment. I have been going through 3.3 ozs of Fantom Farm wool/mohair blend. Cate improved my life immeasurably when she lent me her Hitchhiker wheel.
The handle and treadle are self-explanatory. Each wheel has a learning curve for treadle speed and twist. This makes the new spinner think about twist actively, rather than just letting "things" happen. I really want to be past the stage of being amazed at what I have produced, and having some control over the finished singles. Can you believe that calm, cool Etherknitter is impatient, and a perfectionist? Gah. My roving inevitably takes on a vortex, tornado form at the back hand. I am told this is because I am allowing my twist to travel back. I initially translated my spindle technique (park and draft has both hands pinching twist to control it) to the wheel. Two out of three people have told me to release the forward hand. I'm not sure what the back hand needs to do, as pinching there requires too many hand adjustments with each act of drafting. If I don't pinch, and continuously draft, I get the mid-summer tornado. Here is a sample:
The twist has traveled back because I let go to take the picture. I normally would see a drafting triangle between the twisted developing single, and the tornadoed roving.
I find a paradox. More attempts to exert more control have the opposite effect. "Relaxing" doesn't work, because the process doesn't happen by itself. However, interfering with the twist as it develops also doesn't accomplish the goal. The analogy, like twist, travels outwards and beyond: to relationships, marriages, attempts to master skills, and one's own inner world.
So that brings us, inevitably, to the garden, another venue over which I exercise futile and failing control, but which manages to please despite all of that.
Much of the time, the garden is about foliage and form as much as it is about floral display. This is a scented geranium (Pelargonium). She smells like a rose, and adds variegated form and interesting leaf shape to the container garden party. The flowers are what the horticultural trade would call insignificant.
In July, my life would not be complete without the daily daylily, complete with exploring ant. This is Hemerocallis 'Swiss Mint'. The plant behind her is Allium schubertii. It has descended from Alpha Centauri to hide from bounty hunters, who have been offered a generous reward for eliminating onion species from their star system.
What else would explain a flower and seedhead form that looks like THAT?