I am dyeing (while even considering calling myself a dyer because I have become better at it),
for a small weaving project. Just enough. I dye my extra fine hand plied wool on a stick to keep it from getting too fuzzy. An old wooden weaving shuttle works great when not in use. It has become stained, a record of just enough.
I got a lovely shade mixing pomegranate and walnut. An opportunity to teach some kids to weave has emerged. To dye perhaps. To dye just enough.
I changed the chair in the studio to the old pull out sleeper chair that originally came from the man's NYC apartment. I like the option of sleeping near the stove. The cushion on the little table is the seat cushion from another upholstered chair now discarded. It acts as a footstool and also a very large pincushion. A box of kindling fits nicely underneath it. On the shelf, which is built in, is what is left of my books. The cloth stacked there, mostly indigo, still to be halved. These shelves will be removed when we get to the greenhouse stage. If we stay that long. Thoughts of renting this place out for a while have surfaced.
