The Independent Stitch

Spring in Colorado

Two days ago, we were riding our bikes in light jackets. Yesterday afternoon, this started to happen:

We're so glad the trees hadn't started to leaf out or—harder on them—bloom: every leaf or blossom collects additional snow and increases the weight the trees need to stand up under. Evergreens have better shapes for shedding snow than deciduous trees do!

The fresh snow is beautiful. I can't see two of the three raised garden beds in the back yard because they're completely covered, without even a ripple in the white to suggest where they might be. The third, taller one just peeks one corner out of the white.

My daughter shoveled last night when we had just a few inches of accumulation. Nonetheless:

Mid-morning on Monday, I got an e-mail telling me that The Project's photo/illustration list will be needed "soon." When I asked, "When is 'soon'?" the answer was "before a meeting on Thursday morning."

So I quit working on tax prep (also due Thursday) and dedicated myself to inventing a photo/illustration list. I knew such a list would be needed and I've prepared these things before, so I wasn't completely unprepared, but I've also had a few other tasks on my to-do list (like finishing the samples that will be in the photos . . . no point taking photos if there's nothing to put in front of the camera). I crammed twenty hours of inventorying image requirements into two days and . . . produced a spreadsheet consisting of 424 lines and something like six columns. Some items will be combined in the final photos, but overall I think The Project is on track to be abundantly illustrated. I transmitted the file just before 9:30 last night. . . .

Now back to the tax prep. . . .

In odd moments of time, the Vivian sweater by Ysolda Teague is coming along rather quickly. I don't usually knit at this gauge (4.25/inch), so it's surprising how fast the stitches add up. I'm not a speed-demon knitter (more steady than quick), yet I've finished one sleeve, am close to the top on the other, and have set up the patterns for the body, which is knitted in one piece . . . I would have modified the pattern for one-piece construction if it hadn't been written that way.

The hardest part of working this design so far is that it's written for ten sizes (many strings of numbers in parentheses) and involves a lot of different cable panels, with shaping worked around those panels. Instead of picking my way through the line-by-line instructions, which I deemed crazy-making (nearly impossible to decipher on the fly), I spent part of Sunday afternoon making the body plan visual and connecting the components to each other:

Whew.

I may have an opportunity to knit a few more rows today. AFTER I complete my 2009 mileage records, order a new print run of Knitting in the Old Way, work with tech support on a bug in a piece of tax-prep-necessary software, and spin a fiber set or two for that photo list . . . because the photo shoot itself will be coming up (at a so-far-undetermined time) and I won't be able to slam-dunk the remaining samples in two days, even if I have to!

Here's what one of the simple fiber sets looks like when it's finished:

Yes, that's wool. It's Rough Fell, which I get a huge kick out of. One of the ways it's used is to stuff mattresses, because it doesn't felt. It's really fun to spin. Basketry? Rug?

Here's one of the more complex sets, not quite complete:

It's Romeldale, and Romeldale has been traditionally all-white (except for the CVM, or California Variegated Mutant, branch of the family). Romeldales are now being bred for color, but the Romeldale can't be considered finished until there's a white sample in there.

While going through the photo list, I found a few gaps like that (no white Romeldale), which we missed noticing earlier because we've been working too fast. I also discovered that while we'd written up Gotland, that piece of text hadn't gotten into the finished manuscript that was sent to the publisher. I located it in the archives and sent it last night. Never a dull moment around here.

I haven't counted how many sample sets I have left to do. That's not information it would be helpful for me to know. I'd end up stopped in my tracks, staring at a wall with a big sign on it saying this whole endeavor is impossible. Here are the useful, productive thoughts: I can only work on one thing at a time, and I need to keep moving.

Maybe it's good we're sort of snowed in.

Although with The Project's current state, I feel greater-than-usual sympathy for those trees. I'll bet they feel like their limbs could use a massage, too.

Later. The snow will melt. Spring will come back. The Project will get done, whether I'm ready or not.

I'm practicing being shaped like an evergreen, able to drop burdens easily when the time comes, and to bounce back into shape.

Comfort and crimp

When life gets rocky, as it has been around here lately, balance and a sense of safe harbor for me can come from friends (two-footed, four-footed, and other), fibers (especially wool), and good books.

Tussah Redfurr has been doing her best to fill the hole in our lives that remains following the death of Ariel, our fifteen-year-old Border collie-ish.

It's amazing how many household habits revolved around our newly missing member.

I've greatly appreciated the comments and notes that have come in from friends, especially while our family has also been caring for a few human members with acute ailments. Those folks are on the mend now, and we are all, I hope, taking care of ourselves in the ways that work best for us.

For me, that often means wrapping myself in wool, both physically and mentally. For the former, I have sweaters, shawls, hats, and more (a nice woolly afghan I knitted more than a year ago is still at the publisher's for photography: I look forward to having it back! and I will be showing it here on a blog tour early in 2010).

For mental comfort and joy, I'm working on The Project. I also have a couple of nearly complete book reviews and some knitting updates that I hope to get posted in the near future.

Which brings me to the woolly photo of the day, about the importance of crimp. Put simply, crimp is waviness in a fiber. If there's lots of it, the fiber coils a bit like a spring. Crimp forms as part of the growth process of the fiber. Fibers can have more, less, or no crimp.

Here are two small sample skeins for The Project. They were wound on the same sample niddy-noddy, so if crimp were not a factor they would have identical circumference measurements.

The longer skein on the left is Optim^TM Fine, which is wool that has been processed in ways that reduce the individual fibers' micron counts (make them finer and softer), increase their length, and remove their crimp. Optim^TM still has many of wool's qualities (breathability, moisture-handling, and so on) but in many other ways it has become more silk-like (elasticity disappears and draping qualities increase). While the process can be applied to other wools, it's pretty much focused on use with 19-micron Merinos, turning them into 15.5- to 16-micron Optim fibers. (The micron counts refer to average fiber diameters: under Optim processing, the fibers get skinnier and longer.)

The shorter skein on the right is Polwarth, which by breeding is about 75% Merino and 25% Lincoln (details in The Project's book). I'd compare the Optim to Merino, but Polwarth was what was on the drying rack when I realized the value of a photo comparison. Same basic idea. The Polwarth skein can be stretched to extend as far as the Optim skein does, but when the Polwarth is relaxed it bounces back, while the Optim skein stays put.

For some applications, Optim (less crimp) is a better choice. Crimp-free fibers are more elegant. For drape that doesn't cling (at least in a low-static environment), crimp-free fibers will work better.

For other purposes, Polwarth or another crimpy fiber will excel. Crimpy fibers are cosier than crimp-free ones. For a fabric where elasticity and body-hugging qualities are important, crimp wins. For example, it makes socks that will pull over the heel easily yet won't fall down (at least if they're sized correctly!). Crimp also increases warmth: all those trapped air spaces increase the fabric's insulating qualities.

The person selecting the yarn for an envisioned purpose is the one who decides what matters.

Does all this mean crimp = comfort? It might.

Over the past few days, I've been enjoying the power of crimp, spinning samples of Merino (including its Optim variant), Polwarth, Rambouillet, and Île de France. This afternoon, I plan to begin on Corriedale and Bond. Later this week, I've got Cormo, Romeldale, CVM, and Targhee. All fine wools, each with an individual array of qualities.

We have some brushings from Ariel, saved over the last year or so. A lot got tossed (Ariel grew, and shed, fiber generously), but we have a nice small box full. My daughter asked last week whether I thought we could make some wrist warmers from the collected fiber. This seems like a perfect way to remember a pup who collected the nickname Snow-nose because she adored playing in the snow.

Ariel's fur is a lot like angora. It's fine, exceptionally soft, and has almost no crimp. It's warm. A little Ari-fur will have a big effect on a yarn (as the dog herself had a big effect in our lives), but it could use an infusion of crimp to give it enough elasticity to make good wrist warmers or fingerless gloves.

While I'm working up my samples, I'll be looking for the right match. A good fiber match takes into account fineness, color, and fiber length, in addition to the behavioral qualities (like crimp) that are desired in the finished yarn. Any of the fibers I'm spinning now would be a good match in fineness. The overall effect of Ari's fur spun by itself is a light gray. The colored Merinos and Rambouillets I'm using have shorter staple lengths than Ari's fiber. I have some exquisite colored Bonds here, but they're longer. I'm guessing one of the CVMs or the colored Romeldales will pair with the fur best. As a plus, they're rare wools. That bit of wool will also give the yarn some of the bounce that Ariel herself contributed to our lives.

Comfort and crimp.

Thoughts on evaluating the character of a lock of wool

Some people think all sheep look the same, which is kind of like thinking all dogs look the same, from chihuahuas to Great Danes. Some people think all wool is the same, and it's boring and it itches, which is kind of like thinking all bread is white and squishy and flavorless.

I've spent a large portion of my life utterly fascinated by the varieties of sheep and wool. I have no idea where this came from or why I find it so interesting that it's been one of the major constellations by which I guide my voyage through life, both vocationally and avocationally, but I don't argue with it. Anything that continually amazes is worth continuing to consider.

(Even for somebody who's mildly allergic to wool, some types of grasses, and molds, and definitely has a bad reaction to mothballs.)

For example, the disparate characters of locks of wool:

All wool is the same, right? I picked two whites, just to take the color factor out. Both breeds originated in the mountains and hills of Scotland (so did I, in part).

The one on the right is Scottish Blackface. That lock is 13 inches (33 cm) long and has a crisp feel to it.

The lock on the left is about 2.5 inches (65 mm) long and feels spongy. That word "spongy" is not quite right, although it's often used with reference to wool. It doesn't seem precise enough. I'm looking for alternatives and haven't found one yet. This wool doesn't have the "sink your face into it" quality of the very fine wools, yet it does have some nice give to it, unlike the Scottish Blackface ("crisp" does work for me).

By the way, I'm not identifying the breed of the lefthand lock, because that fleece isn't typical.  It is good wool, freshly shorn, and works for my discussion: it just shouldn't represent its breed . . . it would have to be about twice as long to do that.

And oddly, the sheep that grow the shorter wool are about two-thirds the size of those that grow the long wool: the little guys grow the long wool, and the bigger guys grow the shorter stuff (which is much shorter than the Scottish Blackface even when it does meet the breed criteria).

Some locks of CVM (California Variegated Mutant) wool

Ellen at Sheepwreck has been pondering whether a particular CVM fleece is really a CVM (California Variegated Mutant), which is a Romeldale with a specific color configuration. (CVM is recognized as a separate breed from the Romeldale, because two CVMs, when mated, reliably produce CVM offpsring. The breeds are so close in most regards that it's like talking about twins, though.) She's noticed in particular the disorganized nature of her locks and the fact that the wool feels "crisper" than she expects. Sarah, in the comments, posted a link to some lovely and characteristic CVM from her own flock.

I have a few CVM and Romeldale bits around that I'll show for comparison purposes as well:

Those are CVMs across the top (two sheep, three locks and two locks respectively) and Romeldales along the bottom (three sheep, two locks each). The shorties (top row, darkest) are about 2.5 inches (6.5 cm) and the longies (bottom row, grayest) are about 4 inches (10 cm).

Here's an interesting photo of the locks from CVM fleece number 1:

Here's a close-up of the center lock, which gives good evidence of a nice, even crimp pattern:

And here's a close-up of the lock on the left, which is more like the one shown at Sheepwreck—the crimp is more vaguely evident in the lock, because the structure of the lock is more jumbled:

Here's a nice, very long, evenly crimpy Romeldale:

In person, it's prettier and the evenness of crimp along the fibers is more obvious than in a photo.

Breed standard

Here's the portion of the CVM breed standard that's pertinent to the current consideration:

• "Fleece should be bright, uniform and dense, of high yielding, long staple, fine wool. . . . with spinning counts from 60-62's quality. 12 month staple length averages 3-6 inches. Wool should have a well defined crimp from base to tip, be pliable to the touch and free from kemp or objectionable fibers."

The American Sheep Industry's breed directory gives a slightly different description:

• "CVMs grow a soft, high-yielding, long-stapled uniform fleece. . . . Micron 22-25, USDA wool grade 58's-62's."

Spinning counts or wool grades?

The various wool classing systems can be confusing. Here's what the chapter on wool from the American Sheep Industry Association's Sheep Production Handbook (2002 edition) has to say about spinning counts and wool grades:

• "It is interesting to note that the numbers used to express [USDA] wool grade are the same as those used in the English Worsted Yarn Count System. . . . The double meaning of the symbol for count has been a source of confusion for many people involved with the U.S. sheep and wool industries." (p. 1013)

So we can let go of any thoughts we have about the slight discrepancies in those numbers (two different systems using the same symbols).

Digression: We can also be glad that "[t]he practice of using wool grades . . . is declining on an international basis. It seems likely that [it] . . . will be wholly replaced by a measurement of diameter (in microns) and variability (standard deviation, also in microns)" (same source). Those of us who work with wool by hand will need to continue to train our fingers and our eyes, of course, because we're not likely to run around evaluating wool with analyzers that will give us on-the-spot micron counts (lovely tools, but not suitable for the average crafter's basket or budget).

On crimp

Another confusing factor here is that crimp is an attribute of the individual fiber, not the lock.

Crimp occurs because of the physical structure of a single fiber. To make a too-long story short enough to be useful, the main part of a wool fiber is the cortex, and it's composed of two types of cells (orthocortical and paracortical, if you want to get serious). These occur in different divisions and arrangements in different sheep. One cell type is found on the inside of the crimp curve, and the other is on the outside of the crimp curve. (This information also comes from the ASI handbook's wool chapter.)

The corker in this is that crimp can be easiest to see in a neatly organized lock with all the crimpy bumps in the individual fibers lined up together. So we may not immediately perceive the crimp situation in a disorganized lock, while it knocks us over the head in an orderly one.

I can't get a good-enough close-up of a single fiber in that disorganized lock of mine up there, but the individual fibers are evenly crimpy, from butt to tip.

As an aside, that Scottish Blackface lock up there has minimal crimp in the fiber. It does have a graceful wave in the lock. Because fibers are normally separated from each other in spinning, regardless of technique, the lock structure can be useful (even important) for preparation but has no effect on the qualities of the finished yarn. Crimp, on the other hand, has a lot of influence on the yarn.

What about all these CVM locks?

Reading through the breed standards, all of my samples meet the criteria. Yes, even the short one: that "3-6 inches" is an average. I just won't have the option of combing that particular batch of wool. It will definitely get carded (or spun from the locks, or flicked).

The "crisp feel" that Ellen mentions is harder to contemplate without immediate tactile access. Breed standards call for 60s to 62s quality (listed as "spinning count"), and the American Sheep Industry's information puts the wool between 58s and 62s (USDA wool grades). For comparison (in USDA wool grades), Rambouillet is 60s to 70s and, among the Down breeds, Southdown is 54s to 60s; the rest of the Down breeds run a little coarser than that, although there's overlap, of course.

Shifting to the micron count comparisons, we've already noted that CVM is in the range of 22 to 25 microns. The Rambouillet is 19 to 24 microns and the Southdown is 24 to 29 microns.

Rounding off numbers, since I'm going for general understanding, most of the fibers in a 58s-quality CVM would be between 25 and 26 microns, plus or minus 7 microns.* A fleece like that would definitely feel more like a Down wool than a fine wool, in line with Ellen's comments about the hand of the fiber she's pondering.

*A USDA wool grade of 58s has an average fiber diameter between 24.95 and 26.39 microns, with a standard deviation of 7.09 (same page of the ASI handbook).

Ellen's wool's light-colored, brittle tips are curious, given that the sheep was jacketed. Where her red flag went up at the appearance of the lock, mine goes up at the mention of the brittle tips that break off and cause neps. That brings up questions of when and how the jacketing was done; jacketing is not a magic, easy practice that automatically produces beautiful wool.

In sum

I think it's hard to really get a sense of what any fleece is like until I'm actually working with it. Pre-purchase evaluation can only go so far, within constraints of time, space, and wool-browsing etiquette.

Sometimes the trick is in figuring out how to make the best of what you've got once it reveals its full character. Even, sometimes, when that character involves neps . . . if you like the wool well enough in all other regards, which is the ultimate question.

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Note: Romeldale/CVM is listed as a rare breed with critical status by the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy.

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Copyright 2008 Deborah Robson