We're still here.

 And going strong! We are officially empty nesters, with 18 months experience.  It's so strange to have a grown up for a child.  So weird.

His room has become my weaving studio and I've gone wild with it.

I've been able to decorate, spread out, and stock to my heart's content.  It's a very calming room to be in and I have a great dual aspect view, one from each loom. Tartans and Rugs abound in the room, not to mention oodles of cones of yarn.

With no one working from home (except me) I decided in November that this was the year to tear out the Master bathroom and FINALLY remodel it.  The supplies were sitting in the garage and basement waiting since January of 2020.  I was able to make all the noise I wanted without disturbing anyone.  

The dangerous, giant, unused tub, had to go.

The before and after, from opposite sides of the room.

It's now a much nicer place to be in. The 50 square feet of unusable tub space and the storage tower that was useless had always driven me around the bend.

The alpacas are older and still just as sassy. Two full years of extreme drought conditions has taken its toll on our pasture and hay field, but we still managed to harvest hay last year, even if it was only half of our normal harvest.  We still had hay from the previous year banked, but we can't keep up that low yield for too long. So wish for rain for us, in normal amounts, over time, please.

There have been projects.

A new barn square was installed by the road - a Scottish Thistle, or at least my take on it.

I built, what felt like, a million birdhouses to be sold with the giant tomato plant sale.  Leftovers were donated to the state park below us.

The garden greenhouse suffered UV damage to its cover and I converted it to a herb and flower garden for the bees, bugs, and hummingbirds.

Tomato sale, of course!

The front door was painted.  

Owl houses were built.  

We lost half the orchard to extreme drought, despite in ground to root irrigation, and therefore removed dead trees. 

I finally finished drafting a farmhouse shirtd-ress pattern that is "quick" and easy to sew. So when I can, I make myself a new dress for daily wear. 

We've done battle with and excessive number of outdoor rodents and a Badger.

And electric utility vehicle was added to the team to speed up my work.

We've spent long nights watching the Northern Lights light up the sky.

Storms have been weathered.

A new steel postbox has been installed.

MOUNTAINS of snow have been plowed.

Hay was tended, cut, baled, and stored.

Manure gathered and spread with a new mini manure spreader.

Entries were made to the State Fair and brought home ribbons.

Hens were chased and eggs gathered.

The chicken run was updated to make it easier to deal with our wild weather swings-80'one day, snowing the next.

I refurbished an antique washing machine to use on the Tartans. 

All that plus regular insanity, projects, and things that we all get into on a daily basis. 

Always, gratefully, busy here.

I hope you all are well.

Frequent updates and photos can be found on our 'X' account @WthrLdy

Contact can be made there or here via email/contact.

In Memory:

Merriweather  4 July 2013- 12 January 2024

She was a good girl.

Updates

 If you are interested in having me update the blog, please let me know in the comments below.

We're still here and going like mad, but no one seems to be reading online anymore.

Although I had one email that was bordering on mean about me NOT updating and one that was checking up on us, which was lovely in the crazy world we live in.

The blog just takes time, which needs to be carved out of already full days.  I'm happy to do it if I know people are out there.

All of my other blogger buddies have given up altogether, with some actually deleting their old blog entries, which I won't do. Some have moved on to YouTube, which I am not brave enough to do, nor do I have time for filming AND editing. But kudos to them.

So, what say you???

February - A short month and a short entry.

 The weather continues to be ridiculously dry.  A much anticipated snow storm passed to our South, robbing us of any snow.  The next week promised another snow storm, which passed to our South. Again, we stayed dry. The next storm was less promising, but still heading our way, but passed to our North. The last storm promised a track that would gift us with snow, ice, or rain, we had none of it.  Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh?

We did however get cold with that storm. Previously we had spent February in the mild 40s and 50s, and even a couple 60s during the day, and below freezing at night.  But the last storm brought arctic air with it and we spent a week of not even making it to the freezing mark during the day, all the while, the winds HOWLED. The windchills were brutal, sometimes down to -20F.

But the pendulum has swung the other way, and we're back in the 60s and low 70s for the end of February and beginning of March.

As always nice weather means working outside.  This month's project - a HOOP HOUSE for things earlier and later in the growing season.  It will also allow me to put plants too tall for the Greenhouse into the ground and get growing before the soil in the full garden is ready.

As always, after the first swing of the hammer, I wonder what on earth possessed me to start another project. But once it's started, it has to be finished.  I ripped out the lower production end of the garden, taking out cattle panels and pulling up the irrigation lines and putting them aside.  The T-posts that went 2 feet into the ground, which was still quite cold, were another challenge. I found a T-post lever at the tractor store, which helped greatly with that end of the project.

I plotted out the location of the main supports and got to work pounding in new T-posts.  The plan was to use electrical conduit arches with painted PVC post slides and angles. The problems were many and frequent and frustrating, requiring trips into town for replacements.  My PVC didn't fit over all my T-posts, which caused me to replace some.  I got a batch of a poorly molded PVC reducers, some were from one box, they were fine;the ones from another case, were not. The PVC glue and primer I had on hand was not working between the 45' PVC and the electrical conduit (PVC), but it should have, so a new set was purchased. Conduit that had failed at the fittings and needed new ones, had to be outright replaced. 

 I finally got all the arched made and up.  Now for the connecting pole that runs down the ridge to keep the spacing between all the ribs.  I followed the directions and pre-drilled the holes for the bolt that would connect the ridge pole to to the arch.  Arch one went fine. Arch two, in the middle of drilling, SNAP. right in two.  Arch three, SNAP. Arch four, SNAP.  That was NOT supposed to happen.

Annoyed beyond belief, I ripped all the arches off the posts and tossed them over the garden wall.  Obviously I was going to have to manage a complete redesign, which of course, would require yet ANOTHER trip to the hardware store. Which, if you haven't been recently, is a voyage to Sticker Shock Land.

Luckily the next few days were cold enough to be forced to stay inside and come up with a new plan and a shopping list. I came across a plan using cattle panels and various frame setups. The whole thing was kind of a build to suit, wing-it as you go, situation.  It's been an adventure that's for sure.  Sixteen foot cattle panels are an adventure to haul and even more to carry and install alone.  Trips to Habitat are always hit or miss.  Lumber quality at the moment is HORRIBLE. Material shortages mean getting creative as you're standing in the isles at Home Depot, a now defunct hoop house plan on a napkin, fluttering to the floor.

I still have some work to complete this week before the weather swings the other way.  I should be able to mange at least painting the lumber before the rain/snow/cold arrives.  The plastic requires a windless day to put up, and I'm not sure when that's going to happen.

So there's the outdoor project.

For the cold, chilly, frigid days I turned to the looms, and briefly the sewing machine.

A quick, necessary project was to complete some new, re-usable shopping bags from old T-shirts.  These are a crazy quick project.  The shirts are heavier quality shirts, in children's large, and adult small and medium, that I picked up at the local charity shop for a dime each.  I washed and sanitized them, as well as sun drying, and now I have two dozen new beefy bags.

Fergus and I managed 14 rugs before the warp run came to an end.  Those were all measured and labeled, rolled and tied, and displayed in a wicker market basket.  Four have already sold at a local B&B/Antique Store.

Fergus is now loaded with a blue and white striped warp, which when woven with white or cream rag, will give the illusion of a striped ticking type of rug.

I then turned my attention to the long ignored Nessie, my four harness Tweed and Tartan loom.  Her warp was measured and cut in 2020 right before attention was turned to emergency sewing.  Her warp was finally wrapped in Spring of 2021, when I got busy with just about everything else. Now that she was in her new home, the very fact that the light was amazing, and it was in the heart of the house, I was ready to jump at the chance and finally finishing her thread-up.

She is now fully loaded, and I am almost done with the DunRovin Station Tartan, which will be turned into a dress sash for me, and then the sample for the Scotland Registry.  I have 6 more tartans lined up behind this one already.

So here's to the short month, as we look forward to March-more weaving, and the opening of the Seeding Shed.

What I use for seed starting mix.

I save a lot of money by mixing my own seed starting mix. Not only is the pre-packaged stuff hard to find this year, like last, when you do find it, it's expensive. This is what I use and get great results from it.  

I mix this in a wheelbarrow and it can be scaled down.

11 pounds of Coconut Coir in compressed brick form. (amazon and I have found it at Homedepot and Menards)

9-ish gallons of water (you may need a little more or a little less)

1 T of plant based dish soap - like Eco or Dawn plant based (optional)

4 cups of Vermiculite 

4 cups of Perlite

(I know both Perlite and Vermiculite are hard to find this year. You can do away with one, but not both)

If you want to, you can add 2-3 cups of worm castings.

Mix the soap into the water, you aren't looking to make it foamy.

I place the coir in the wheel barrow and add about half the water and let the coir start to expand. As it does, you can start to break the bricks apart and add a little more water. It's better to add too little and need to add more, than to end up with a Scottish peat bog in your barrow. Let it sit a bit and come back to it and see if you need to add more water.

Place your Vermiculite and/or Perlite and Worm Castings (optional) on the top and use whatever method you like to get it all mixed together.

So what's up with the SOAP?!  That tiny bit of soap in all of that helps break down the surface tension of the water you add to the 'soil'.  So when you water later, you don't get as much floating bits of coir in your starter cells, supposedly.  I really can't see the difference, but it doesn't seem to hurt either.

Coconut Coir has NO nutritional value whatsoever.  So as soon as you see those first sets of TRUE leaves on your seedlings, you will want to start fertilizing your starts with half strength liquid fertilizer.  The worm castings have a little value, but don't let those seedlings starve!  You should continue your half strength feedings once a week until you get the seedlings into the ground and then go full strength at the manufacturer's recommendations. I've personally had better luck with Schultz over MiracleGrow. For that I have NO idea why.  MG always seems to burn out my plants. You're results may very.

Regardless, I steer clear of the pre-fertilized all season soils at the stores.  You have NO control over what your plants need if you get too much or too little rain, or have a season of wacky soil conditions.  You'll constantly be trying to figure out what your plants need and what's wrong with them.

Good luck with your gardening this year!

January, The Quietest Month of the Year (NOT)

 

The month of January, the darkest, coldest, snowiest month of the year.  It's a month were snuggling up on the sofa with a soft blanket, a pair of woolly socks, a warm drink, and a good book is expected, nay, required.  By the end of January, a firm and familiar bond has been formed with your snow shovel. Each time you use it you wonder if this will be it's last season, or if you should treat yourself to a new one at the hardware store. After all, they're on clearance now next to the flower seeds.  Your woolen mittens are stiff and now perfectly formed and felted to the shape of your hand. You've completely given up on not having hat hair, and your chore coat, and your very pores perpetually smell of ode to diesel from tractor exhaust. You've developed milk maid's shoulders from hauling warm water to the livestock, and have mastered the art of 'going to your happy place' while preforming them 3 times a day, while being serenaded by the howling, biting winds.

But not this year, not this year.

We have been utterly blessed with fantastic weather this year. We are drastically low on precipitation, which is going to be a problem come Spring if we don't make it up soon. But the temperatures have been very, very nice.  We've been frigid, but then we bounce up into the 50s.  We drop again to have one or two days that never break freezing, but then we pop back into the 40s, or even 60s for a couple of days.  It's made it impossible to fall into the annual Winter funk.  How can you possibly waste a sunny 55 degree day INSIDE?  You can't.  You spend the little cold days inside planning and plotting projects for the nice days.  On the nice days, you work yourself silly before the cold sets in again.

The first couple of days of January were ridiculously cold. Our high temperatures were 9'F(-13'C) and 16'F(-9'C), respectively. Add the wind to that and it was a classic inside pair of days.  I used to to work in the sewing room.  A lot of odds and ends in the repair basket were tackled, but most importantly, I finished the Sewing double!  I have put this off for months.  The original pique knit, which was recommended, was far too stretchy. As you stuffed it, it overstuffed to beyond your measurements and was still too soft for its intended purpose.  To counter that, I changed to a heavy duty cotton duck and added a little to the seam allowances to make up for the total lack of stretch. Once that was complete, I glued heavy cardboard disks to the neck and arms ends to give it structure, slipped it over the base and stuffed it as tightly as I could while still matching the form and measurements.  It came out spot on!  Then I adjusted it to the correct standing height. It is now ready to help drape bodices, and hem skirts.  I'm glad I tackled this project, but I'm VERY glad it's DONE.

I knew I then had two days in the upper 40s and mid 50s.  Laundry was hung outside on the line, one day of clothing and the second 100 ft of sheets to be stripped for rugs on Fergus. It was during one of these hanging sessions that I got a bee in my bonnet.  Fergus was currently, temporarily, inhabiting the space under the window in the upstairs (main floor/ground floor) library due to the weather when we moved him from the garage and into the house, and due to his hulking size and considerable weight. Where on earth was I going to put him on the lower level where his sister, Nessie was residing.  I wasn't happy with her location to start with, I couldn't shove Fergus down there too and be happy. So now where am I going to put the two of them where I would be happy?

There was room on the lower level, large windows, but it always feels apart from the house to me and oppressive, even with the brightest daylight lamps blazing.  I live and work on the main floor. But where to put them both where they could both be used AND out of the way?  As I stood and worked on a rug on Fergus, it came to me.  I would relocate the library and make the library the weaving studio, or as Doc calls it, The Loomy Bin. 

I dropped what I was doing on Fergus, and grabbed my tape measure and ran it across the top of one of the bookcases, and then down the stairs I went to measure the wall behind Nessie and under the windows.  THEY'D FIT!  Then I measured Nessie and went back upstairs to measure under the window. Nessie was lower and would go under the window, while Fergus would go into a corner.  SHE WOULD FIT TOO!

I put the rug supplies to the side and immediately started taking things off the walls and carrying them downstairs. The walls would need painting.  I was shocked at how faded the paint was after only 7 years and protected by UV windows. I cleaned and moved stack after stack of books, then slid the heavy wood shelves to the basement and set the whole library up downstairs.  There were only hours before a cold front was coming through and there was no way I could move Nessie alone, she was far too heavy and bulky.  I folded her up, and made her as skinny as possible and I built an extension for a dolly to hold her.  Doc helped me load her up and get her to the trailer where we drove her up and around the house to the main level, then wheeled her to the front door where she had to be lifted up the stairs and into the house. She was officially in the Loomy Bin.  

It could get cold and miserable now. And it did.

I actually had a spare gallon of paint I loved from another project and spent a whole day painting the studio. The second day I put the room back together and decorated.  Yes, it was that fast.  It's set up exactly right. It's comfortable. It's soothing. It's functional, and lets me be accessible to the whole level of the house I use. And all of my weaving items are in the same room, not spread all over the house, hither and yon. I can close the door and turn up my podcasts or youtube videos and the dog can still see me (glass door), but I don't disturb the rest of the house with 'slide, klunk, swish, klunk'.

I can now keep an eye on dinner (or cookies) and work on a few rows.  I can work and the dog doesn't feel abandoned.  It's lovely. (There are still a couple of empty spots on the walls for certificates still in the mail. I am making a rail to hold my shuttles within reach, and an adjustable work lamp would be a great idea.)

As long as I had the roller, pan, and ladder out, I decided I may as well paint the dinged wall in the kitchen, which turned out to also be horribly faded despite having NO direct sunlight on it EVER.  Sad testimony for this brand of paint. (Suzie helped me paint the kitchen. Yes, my brilliant beagle turned headfirst into a wall.)

The weather warmed again and I put into motion the next outdoor project, as long as the laundry was flapping away on the line again.  I wanted a hoop house for the garden.  I had it slated for later in the Spring, but why waste those warm days, eh?  This would be a place to keep plants earlier and later in the growing season, once they out grew the proper greenhouse.  Irrigation lines needed pulled and cattle panels and T-posts needed removed to make room for the new structure.  I knew what I wanted, but only a little about HOW I wanted to do it.  There were some bumps in the road over a two week span, including some snow, some misfitting pipes, a dead can of paint, poorly manufactured parts, PVC cement failure and not being able to find the right size T-posts. But so far I have a bare frame.  She won't be DONE in January, but she's on her way.

Of course some things had to give way for the hoop house.  The up-cycled bean arch I just put up this fall felt in the way, so down it came.  And with those two rows gone, I could expand the blackberry row another 20 feet, deal.  As long as I was building longer rows in that direction I could add 10 feet to the hyperactive grape vine row, deal.  Oh, and as long as I was out there, the horseradish was not only too close to the hoop house now, but would also be too shaded.  It needed moved.  

Have you ever had to move a 5 year old mother horseradish plant? She was HUGE, 24 inches across and I dug down another 15 inches before I started cutting off the rhizomes, which were almost 2 inches across in some instances.  I broke off some larger ones and tossed them aside and moved mother to a new spot, then dug up two of her daughters and put them in the same row.  I know full well that each broken rhizome left in the ground is a potential new plant this spring. I will be overwhelmed with the spicy condiment, but it is welcome.

I brought in the pungent stick 2 inches across and 20 inches long.  I diced it into manageable pieces, and slipped them into a quart jar along with 1/4t of salt, 6 T water, and 3T of white vinegar and then carried it and my immersion blender to the front porch.  This is NOT a job for INSIDE the house. Holding the jar away from my face and pointed away from me I let the stick blender do its job.  I shook off the blender and capped the jar for 15 minutes before transferring it to a pint jar.  Not a bad haul.  Nothing like a fresh batch of the good stuff for February.

I installed a set of shelves in the sewing room to hold materials for the rug loom, since that's where they'll be cut .  I just took the first warp winding worth of rugs of Fergus.  I actually ran out of room on the take-up beam before I ran out of warm. I manage 12 rugs, with probably two left on the loom. When this warp runs out I'll order new heddles for Fergus, install them, and thread him up again.  It's nice to have a project that doesn't require a great deal of brain power for break times.  (Unlike the projects on Nessie, which require so much attention, the radio can't even be on.)

The hens and alpaca are happy and very much enjoying the warmer winter. Days are spent lounging in the warm sunshine and searching the poo piles for bugs and wayward seeds in the straw and dropped hay.

In closing, the only thing special that came out of the kitchen during this month long work-a-thon was a triple twisted cinnamon flake roll from scratch, 100% whole wheat.  I think it made up for the couple of night's that dinner was soup and cold sandwiches.

December, It Just FLEW By.

 

Most of the reason it sped by so quickly was due to the great loom project.  Fergus was all consuming for 10 days. It was wonderful.  Now Fergus is safely in the house and set up, and working.  Being on the main floor affords me the same opportunity as my studio desk in the kitchen.  I can work for a bit and then continue on with chores or cooking.  It's easy to just work for a few minutes as the mood strikes.

Fergus is well on his way, and has rag rug #4 on it now.  I should have that done by tomorrow.  I've been managing a rug a day just by doing several rows every so often throughout the day.  I have a great deal of scraps saved up and ready to be stripped as needed.

I love the process and the result.  One of my main goals for January is to finish the custom sewing double dummy and to get the next Tartan threaded up on the downstairs Loom, Nessie. That is a HUGE project. I dread it, but to start weaving, it must be done. 

December 15th rolled in with temperatures in the mid 70s, which is unheard of for here.  The air felt odd all day, it was still and a little humid.  The storms began to develop to our west and then picked up speed, barreling across the state like a freight train.  Tropical storm and hurricane force winds chewed up everything in front of it and torrential rains raced horizontally along the hills, and tornadoes formed unpredictably along the leading edge of the storm. As I sat on the front porch working and passing information to surrounding broadcasting agencies, the unmistakable roar came from the next valley. As the winds picked up, the roar wasn't muffed by the approaching rain on the tin rooves nor the wind twisting the giant tree limbs. In fact, it grew louder.  There was a flash across the valley and the power was gone, the air was green, and still the sound of a jet engine grew closer. I sent one more report and went inside and told Doc, that I didn't know where the tornado was, I couldn't see it, but it was out there and it was close.  I returned to my observation post but could see nothing.  The air pressure dropped to 29.03, before the station shut down. The beast was out there, but invisible.  The whole thing was over in 15 minutes.  The line passed, the sun was golden, and the air behind the storm was fresh and clear. We were still here, the only damage was a missing vent panel on the greenhouse. (I forgot to close the lower vents during storm prep.) (The tornado was headed our way, but lifted just 5 miles south of the house.  For a storm that was moving at us at 80 mph, that's a big deal- 4 minutes is all that stood between us and that twister.)

For us, the power was out.  Long before the storm had hit, I had filled the extra water buckets for both animals and people. I used the clear glass jugs and a candle to blow the light from one candle into a full lantern in the kitchen, and with the help of food put up in the pantry, managed a full Thai dinner from scratch for supper.  A reward for an insane evening.

After that, we still had wild swings of cool and warm days. It was warm enough to bring the ladybugs back out and warm and breezy enough to still hang laundry on the line.  Odd for sure, but no one was complaining. Although we all know Mr. Freeze Meister's shoe will drop on us eventually.

The warm weather even distracted us from the fact that the holidays were sneaking up on us. But we found enough spirit to make and eat a Yule Log and get the tree up, albeit, two days before Christmas. The ornaments never did make it out of storage, and the whole tree was put away by Christmas afternoon. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was New Year Day, and Winter arrived.

From DunRovinStation Ranch to you and yours, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

My 'New' Union 36 Loom - Get your coffee. It's a long one.

 It came to be on a sweltering early June day.  The kind of day where the sun sits high in the sky, wavy lines of heat rise from the asphalt road. The cicadas slowly come to life, working hard to muster the energy in the heavy air to bolt out a few clicks to a potential mate before settling back down under a shady leaf. And the laundry on the line, hangs lazily, barely making an effort to dance in the breeze that refuses to lead. 

It was just this day, that I found myself in the truck, about to make the same weekly trip to the feed store, the market, and the hardware store.  The same truck, the same road, the same destination, a mind numbing routine.  The weather making me indifferent to the whole prospect. As the truck hummed along I spied a small white sign on the corner of the gravel road, poking out of the already tall prairie grass. A siren's song on poster board with a red arrow and the simple words 'Barn Sale'.

Roused from my repetitive dusty trail, I turned the truck down the gravel road less traveled, a rooster tail of dust lazily rising behind me. I tried to temper my excitement, knowing that it could either be a marvelous adventure filled with treasure, or a bust, a barn filled with rusty junk that should have been sent to the dump decades ago. Farmers and ranchers rarely throw things away. You never know when you'll need that thing-a-ma-jig again, and why buy new later when you can simply save what you already have? Any you know what they say, 'one man's rubbish, is another man's treasure.'  There was no harm in looking, and the road was in the general direction of errand anyway.  If nothing else, it was a diversion and a chance to meet someone new, see a homestead close-up instead of from afar as you fly past.

Each passing crossroad brought be closer to the city, but another red arrow pointed me onward. My excitement peaked when I reached where X marked the spot.  A lovely homestead I have always admired from afar as I would cut across country for a change of scenery.  A ranch style home near the road, encircled by a protective copse of evergreen trees, strong, tall, sentinels guarding against the winter winds on the open prairie, off duty in the summer heat. A small wood clad outbuilding stands just off the driveway loaded with potted plants and the rusty detritus of farm life and discarded implements that have become yard ornaments.  The main attraction was a large red gambrel barn, trimmed in white. I turned into the sale hoping for the best, but already happy that I was going to see this gem close up and not at 55 mph.

The sale was a driveway full of typical odds and ends and didn't go near the barn or sheds. On the property was a never before noticed large greenhouse, and its bounty was spread on large pieces of plywood on sawhorses, makeshift tables displaying hundreds of tomato plants seeking a new home, sleepy in the heat. The owners were kind, and seeing nothing I wanted, but not wanting to just show up and leave immediately, I wandered into the large three car garage.  This was filled with bits and bobs, dusty boxes,  outgrown children's toys and clothing. As I turned to make a final pass, my eyes quickly scanned a dark corner, piled high with baskets and rubbermaid containers, all partially covered with old blankets, and yet still part of the sale. Recognizing a familiar shape peeking out, I peeled back the blanket to an old Union 36. I could almost hear her weeping for joy for having been found, maybe I would rescue her? I looked her over quickly as my heart beat like a hummingbird. The more I looked, the
more my excitement was tempered.

Missing pieces replaced
with bailing wire and 
electrical tape.

Years of sitting in the garage, dust and mice visiting, wild swings of temperature and humidity taking its toll.  Every piece of metal was rusted. The beam was loaded with rotting and filthy warp. A started and abandoned rug lay crumpled on the breast beam. The once glistening maple, the pride of some 1930s housewife, now sat dull and lifeless, a shadow of its former glory. I looked at the price, inquired to the owner, and made a difficult decision. She would not be coming home.  I had a loom.  A beautiful cherry Norwood loom was at that very moment sitting in the studio waiting for me to finishing slaying a new tartan warp.  As I turned to walk towards the truck, I swear I heard a faint weeping, the loom resigned to it's lonely fate.

Rusty, covered in
droppings and grease
pencil notes.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't give it a second thought that day, that week, or even that month.  Could I save her?  Would she even be there? I could do it. I refurbished antique sewing machines a long while ago, and a loom wasn't even that complicated.  Nah, I had a loom already. Besides, where would I put it. Back and forth I would silently debate with myself. Slowly the thoughts faded completely.

At the beginning of December, I found myself at the first meeting of a newly formed fiber artists group. As I sat there in the shop, which was our meeting place, surrounded by restored looms, and spinning wheels, the old loom crept into my thoughts again. Like the Tell Tale Heart, it would not let me go.  On the long drive home I decided to go the long way and stop by the farm and see if the loom was still there? The early winter sun, kissed the horizon as I turned unannounced into the driveway.  I knocked at the door, but no one answered.  Dismayed I turned toward the truck and was greeted by someone coming out of the shed. I asked if she had managed to sell the loom at sale, and if she hadn't did she still have it. She did!

She opened the garage door, and I swear I hear the little loom squeal with glee, 'you came back!"

We settled on a price, and I told her I would be back in the morning with the trailer and the check. The woman told me the story of how she bought it when they purchased the house 20 years ago, with good intentions of using it, but she never learned to use it, or even tackled cleaning it up or off in 20 years. The fabric was ancient, at least the mid 70s judging by the colors, so 45 years of sitting collection dust in one location or another.

I carefully wrapped her in a tarp for the drive home.  If anything broke off, or rattled off on the way home, I wanted it to be contained for retrieval. When I got home, Doc helped me offload the loom into the main garage on the house. The thought being that it would be going in the house eventually, and being winter I wanted to avoid having to carry it all the way up the hill in a blizzard.  I'd rather haul tools from the shop up to the garage to work.  As we sat it on the floor, I looked at it and silently said to myself"what have I gotten myself into"?

But not only was I determined to tackle this project, I was determined to do it right, do it quickly, and do it on a budget. I would be thrilled with a week, but 10 days seemed more realistic.  There was so much to do.  All the metal needed either replaced or the rust dealt with.  All the wood needed sanded down, fed, and then resealed.  Missing pieces needed replaced. It all seemed like so much. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

I took photos like mad, after all, pixels are free.  I looked at other looms online to see what I was missing.

I started taking it apart and carefully placed each item on paper I had taped to the floor.  I labeled everything knowing I would forget what went where, but hoping I wouldn't.

The first task was taking off over 400 rotting warp threads  and the old partial rug covered in dust, mouse droppings, dead bugs, and dead spiders.  I went through the box after box of stripped fabrics, nothing newer than the mid-70s, some I actually recognized (remember yellow sheets with orange mums, daisies and mushrooms and butterflies on them?)These covered in mouse droppings and dust. (In retrospect, I should have masked and gloved for this, but hindsight, eh?) One box, better sealed than the rest contained musty books from the 70s, and 11 rug shuttles, and one boat shuttle and the two slaying tools. This was a treasure trove.

I sanded metal. I sanded wood. I visited the hardware store more times than I care to admit. Tiny achievements brought so much pleasure that I couldn't sleep for planning the next day.

I wanted to clean it up and fix it, but not to the point of erasing its past.

I left some of the decals that someone in the 60s proudly put on. I left the gnaw marks of a barn rat, and the scratches on one leg of a barn cat. The handmade replacement crank handle for the sectional beam, so lovingly crafted, was just as carefully repaired and re-installed. 

The sanded maple wood was cleaned and stained a rich, warm chestnut.

The metal was sealed with a rust neutralizing black.

Missing pegs were re-crafted with the help of a 1940s steel pencil sharpener I have.

The rusted heddles were the last on my list.  Their condition and sheer number made the project daunting.  Do I simply purchase new and break my budget? Or do I soldier on and try to save them?  I decided to try to save them. If I failed, then I would purchase new.  I already saved the heddle bars with sanding and a light oiling. Now what to to with the heddles.  I tackle my rusty cast iron before seasoning with vinegar, why not try it?  50 heddles at a time, my patience limit at the sink, went into a vinegar soak while I tackled other chores. I then rinsed and wiped the rust off each and every one, and set them out to dry. When I was finally done with them, I lightly sprayed the lot with a mist of oil, and again wiped each one down, leaving only enough to slow the rust.  Although it would now be stored in a controlled environment, so I hoped the iron would be kept at bay for a long while.

I carefully reassembled the whole thing. At a critical juncture, just before I replaced the castle, the tallest piece, I decided to move it into the house.  I decided on the library, by the window, where I would have plenty of daylight and could watch the world go by. I wrestled it onto a padded dolly, wheeled it out of the garage and down the sidewalk. I padded all the front steps and porch with garden blankets and slowly worked it towards the door.  Even as wide as this modern door is, the loom still need to be on end, and then one side through the frame and then the whole thing rotated around and the other side to follow around.  Once it was in the house, furniture sliders ruled the roost, and the process was repeated to get through the library door.

Once it was settled in, I began to reassemble in full. It was really nice to work in the warmth of the house with the radio for company.

I measured it for a new beam apron.  Before she only had one bent piece of iron to draw up the warp. I stuck to my budget, and my refusal to drive into the city again, and raided my fabric studio for some cotton duck cloth.  I opted for brass grommets for the warp ends to pass through, and left pockets for new, heavier steel rods (from the tractor store).

I added a beater brake to hold the beater for slaying.

I added a hook to hold tools.

I installed new pegs and risers.

The last challenge? Re-threading the heddles. They needed sorted, counted, divided in two groups for the two braces. They needed turned the same and correct direction and slid back onto the rails and then mounted back into their frames and the frames hung and balanced.  I dreaded it, but it needed done.

The very last thing I did was add a plaque, my name and Refubrished in 2021.

Everyone, I'd like you to meet Fergus.

The Union 36 Loom was the premier rug loom of the time and was marketed to homeowners who wanted to make a little money on the side, or as a full time business.  It even explained in the manual how to acquire rags, and how to set prices based on competition in the area and materials costs.  They were manufactured from 1920-1940 and originally sold for $60 delivered. They came fully assembled and ready to use with a short amount of warp on the beam to help you get started. Now they can be found here and there, usually in poor condition and missing pieces, or heavily painted and in poor condition for around $200-450$ depending on condition.  New, modern models (different company) start at over $1000, and the wood isn't a hardwood and is always done in natural light tones.

Side story. A chance trip to the local thrift shop graced me with a bent wood seat for piano. It adjusts height wise by twirling the seat one way or the other on a large iron screw.  I refinished this at the same time a flat dark brown and repadded and covered the seat in a plaid wool scrap. Cost $20

Loom $150

Parts/supplies $58 (budget was $50), but I have bolts to return that will get me $15 back.

Odds and ends $60

Stool $20

Total - $273.00 and 42 hours (including clean up and putting tools away, but not shopping and drive time)