The Independent Stitch

Tussah: 19?? - April 23, 2013

We were Tussah's third home that we know of. She lived with us for eight or nine years. She was somewhere between six and eight years old when she came to us.

She had initially been abandoned at a reservoir in North Dakota. From there, someone picked her up and took her to the humane society in our area. She was adopted from there by people who were able to give her a good home as long as they lived in the foothills and let her run. They adopted two human children, moved to town, and didn't have time for the dog, whom they kept closed off in a shed after she'd eaten a deck and some trees. She managed to get out of the shed and to scale six-foot fences, repeatedly, looking for companionship. Their vet finally talked them into allowing her to be re-homed. At the time, we weren't ready for another dog, and several people were anxious to take her on but for one reason or another couldn't right then. We offered to foster her until a home could be found, and put her on the waiting list for a no-kill shelter in the area. The shelter never called. Before long, we wouldn't have let them have her anyway.

She helped write The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook (with Ariel).

She preferred to have company when she ate. Ours. 

If we were going somewhere, she wanted to go with. And she was a very good traveler.

Wherever we were, that was home.

Just the right size for a lap dog, but never insistent, always invited.

With my aunt, my mother, Ariel, and me, in Long Beach, Washington.

Picnics were good (again with Ariel).

Or any time we were all together. Which was most of the time.

Especially liked wading: this is Long Beach again.

And a local farm pond. Happy to putz around. Not so eager to actually swim.

Superb at enjoying whatever was happening at the time.

And exceptionally good at basking.

Learned to walk on a leash early on (she didn't have that skill when she came to us) and enjoyed the twice-a-day outings, as well as longer hikes. (Here with Ariel again.)

This was the Ariel Memorial Hike, at Dakota Ridge west of Boulder.

She never met anything on two feet or four whom she didn't think would make a good friend.

But she was not fond of flies.

She always liked learning more about the world around her.

And helping others do the same. At times like this, we would say, "She misses her shed. . . ."

The next photo was taken about fifteen minutes after we'd been introduced to Ceilidh at the meet-and-greet set up by Western Border Collie Rescue. Our primary criterion for a new member of the family: Must Not Harrass Tussah. Ceilidh went home with us, and while she taught Tussah a little bit about how to play, she never harrassed her for one second.

However, they did have different opinions about how much sniffing needed to be done (Tussah = more) and whether it was time to see whatever was next along the trail (Ceilidh = now).

At the top of the mountain.

Helping out at the Puppy Up! walk to raise money for canine/human cancer research. It was a very windy day (with Ceilidh).

Tussah was always willing to share. She knew there was plenty of love to go around. Always.

The only thing she asked was to be able to go with.

Even if it had just snowed a foot or more. This was last Wednesday.

__________

Details: 

At 2:30 this morning, my daughter woke me, saying Tussah had had another episode, consisting of yipping and slight seizure; she's had maybe a half-dozen of these over the past three months or so, and has had several incidences of canine vestibular syndrome, or CVS, since last September. However, this one was not resolving as quickly as usual, and there were some different symptoms, and she wondered if we should get her to the vet hospital. We've had her to our vet about the episodes, of course. The next step in diagnostics was going to be a cardio/neuro workhop at the vet hospital, and they already had some records on her there from the CVS experiences. While what was going on with Tussah didn't seem severe, we thought it was important to have someone examine her while it was happening. Although the vet hospital operates 24/7, when we got there it oddly appeared not to be open (locked door, no people in evidence, lights very dim), but there are two other 24-hour alternatives available to us, so after a few minutes of trying to figure out how to access the hospital we headed across town to the next-closest option. (Tussah had not been to this second facility, but we'd taken other animals there and had good experiences.)

To make a long story short, ultrasound and needle biopsy showed that Tussah's liver was severely enlarged (indicative of massive tumor) and she had significant amounts of internal abdominal bleeding. It was almost certainly hemangiosarcoma. Even if it wasn't, there was no acceptable treatment route considering her age. We could have brought her home for a few weeks dedicated to pain control. She didn't deserve pain, so we made the decision to spare her an inevitable truckload of it.

Once we got home, I napped a bit, read some about hemangiosarcoma, and am now only more relieved that we were not seriously tempted to take her home to hope for the best. There wasn't any "best." The potential diagnosis also correlates with many of the other symptoms that she's experienced over the past six months or so. The vet and tech at the emergency clinic were fantastic. They took thorough, gentle care of Tussah and gave us clear, even-handed information, and plenty of time, although the decision we needed to make was pretty quickly clear. It was as good as it could get, for something that was so sudden and drastic.

__________

Tussah was the sweetest dog on the planet. We're so fortunate we were able to share a good portion of her life with her.

Tempest's Tussah Redfurr

— thank you for everything, T-bear. You are a treasure.

High Park Fire, 10: Gardening, such as it's been this year

This has not been a great year for gardening.

Our raised beds got built a few years ago. We didn't have the repeated hailstorms pounding the tomato plants into green pulp before they had a chance to get started. There's been a drought, but the water's been applied regularly, if judiciously (none extra for the grass). The squirrels have been far less interested in devouring the vegetables—mostly because of the new reasons that the garden never quite got going with gusto this time around.

(Lady, a visitor, and Ceilidh, a local, very interested in where the squirrel went.)

This has been the year of the High Park Fire, and of resulting guests: Bear (in back) and Lady (in front).

That photo was taken just after they arrived to stay with us in June, when their home burned down. In our back yard it was very hot, although not fire-beset, so they hung out under the deck, where we wetted down the gravel. Later, Bear went to live temporarily with a bunch of livestock for him to protect. Bear is a sweetheart, but he isn't an inside dog (we tried). Lady was scared to come into the house for the first week or two—we could barely get her up the stairs to even look inside, but she's since adjusted.

The house is a bit small for playtime with close to 200 total pounds (90 kg) of dog, but they make do.

Our friends, their dogs, their cat, and their llamas are still living in separate places around the country, most in-state but three critters out-of-state.

I do need to do a fire update.

It's far from over. For those who lost their homes, the process of digging out and determining where, and how, to live next is still in the beginning stages. The fire itself isn't out, although it's 100% contained. During some of our friends' clean-up work this week, which involves removing debris, they saw a plume of smoke very close to where they were working, and discovered a still-hot spot.

Here's Earl's account of what he experienced at their property a couple of days ago:

Way back in June when the wildfires raged through our hills we heard that the danger wouldn't be over until the first snow flew. I didn't take it seriously at the time and was stunned to find smoke coming up from a small pile of rubble uncovered by the clean up crew this week. As I walked up the hill to the barn site I was smelling smoke and wondering if it was just the smell of all the ash that had been pushed into one pile prior to removal. That wasn't the case and as I rounded the corner at the top of the grade I saw a plume of smoke. What ever was smoldering had been under a pile of ash and when that was removed the wind rekindled the hot embers. Three months out and hot spots still remain!

And here are Kris's notes from just two days ago. Samaritan's Purse, which she mentions, is a group of Christian aid-workers that has given them more tangible help than any other organized group, including the government or the Red Cross (or insurance).

As we've been sifting up there, even after Samaritan's Purse, and all the rains, we'd be standing on a pile of soot and have to move, because the underlying soot was still giving off heat. Thankfully, the work boots the kids sent us are heavy enough that we didn't toast our toes. Will be interesting to go up today, see if there was snow there, and where there might still be hot spots—or were. The cleanup crew is amazing. Have already taken over 4K pounds of metal to the recycler. . . .

Toward the end of July, Samaritan's Purse sent a large crew that spent days helping our friends sift through the ashes for anything that might have survived the inferno. Our friends have no connection to this group. Someone who knew about Samaritan's Purse just asked if help was needed, were told "yes" (the timing was perfect: our friends had been estimating it would take many months to even assess the damage), and a large crew was assigned to work "as long as they're needed" to go through the ashes and retrieve any personal belongings that could be salvaged.

Those are only some of the workers on the team. That's Kris and Earl in front, in the (appropriately named) fatigues.

So first there came the "do we have anything left?" part. The next photo comes from early July, when our friends were (1) allowed to go look, because the fire was sufficiently controlled, and (2) able to face seeing what had happened to their home (not easy).

The so-called shabin (the small shed with no utilities that was on the property when they bought it) survived untouched, as did the tractor.

The barn didn't.

That's a steel beam from the barn, along with its roof and a stock gate. Wildfires are both unpredictable and fierce. Note the damage here, and see the building at the upper right in that photo, which is their only neighbor's house, untouched.

Their own house did not survive any better than the barn. Our friends had built it recently, over several years, using all the best fire-resistant techniques and materials. It wasn't quite finished inside. Firefighters who checked their property during the Hewlett Fire (which was nearby not long before the High Park Fire) assured them that their ranch would be easy to defend. The fire took its final run to the north with a speed and intensity that nothing could withstand, and against which defense was impossible.

That's the metal roof of the house, along with melted glass from the windows. Not even the foundation can be salvaged because it was too extensively damaged. Concrete, well-known to be a fire-resistant building material, is not immune to failure when exposed to excessive heat.

Then there's the scraping away and disposal of the debris—very costly, in work, equipment, and dumping fees. Here's some debris that needs to be hauled away and disposed of:

Yes, there's a car in there. The vehicles that our friends saved were the livestock trailer and the truck that hauls it, as well as the small SUV (with a lot of miles on it) which they used to evacuate the small animals and the few personal belongings they could grab. The SUV's removable seat was in the fire, and they've been unable to find a replacement for it, so they now have no method of transportation that can carry more than two people at a time. They have to rent a car when they need to take elderly family members to or from the airport.

Note: Corning ware made it through—just needs cleaning.

The rest of the cookware didn't.

Ditto the washer and dryer.

Yet a pot I had made and given Kris did, albeit re-fired and so not the same colors it used to be. It looks more like raku now.

The Samaritan's Purse folks also retrieved Earl's wedding ring, which he'd taken off while working in the barn. (That's a press release. I'd link to the original news story, except that our paper doesn't make "older" news readily available.)

Our friends are now at the debris-removal stage of the process. They are still living in another set of friends' spare bedroom, with the few things they've gathered to begin replacing their lives stored at our house and in a storage unit. They are still wondering whether, where, and how they might rebuild. (At the end of September, for 259 homes lost in this fire only 20 owners had gotten to the stage of having a permit to rebuild.)

Returning to dogs, Lady has decided that we are okay company, and her safety and well-being is one thing our friends don't have to worry about at all.

Which returns us to the garden. We got some plants in the ground about June 20, which is three weeks after our frost date, but we were busy with all sorts of things.

While both Bear and Lady were with us, it became apparent that it didn't make sense to plant much in our raised beds. (We also didn't waste water on the lawn.) This is what the garden looked like on June 30.

Once Bear moved to a place where he could guard ducks (they're not llamas, but it's a job), we dared to get more plants into one of the beds. (The small bed has a couple of perennial herbs in it. The plan was to plant more. It didn't happen.) The second four-foot bed still was appealing to the remaining visitor. The biggest problem was that the nesting instinct tended to transfer our carefully prepared soil (not the local clay) outside the frame.

We tried putting in an impediment to sleeping in the bed (it's a BED, but still), or at least something to slow down the removal of the dirt. That worked for a few weeks, but I removed it when I discovered it had been knocked over and was posing a risk to the canine members of the household. 

Here's 5:50 a.m. two mornings ago, just after the smoke alarm started chirping to tell me that its battery was low and two of the dogs decided they'd like to be outside, thank you (perhaps to see whether the squirrels were awake yet):

And the same morning at 7:20:

Just before the recent frost warning (we iced up last night), we gathered our final harvest of the year. The ripe tomatoes about double our take (from the entire gardening push) for the whole season.

We have a good recipe for a green-tomato curry.

I think most of what we grew in the garden this year, other than a few marigolds that did reasonably well, was a big white dog. Fortunately, she's very nice.

Waltz for the Wolves

Last Saturday night was the Waltz for the Wolves, the annual major fundraiser for W.O.L.F. Sanctuary, a rescue and education organization working with wolves and wolf-dogs, which recently has been hit by the High Park Fire, although all the wolves were—over a number of days and by a number of means—relocated to appropriate alternative locations outside the fire area. (I hesitated over adding the word "local" on that description of the fundraiser, but left it off because people attend from quite far away.)

Here's the room where the Waltz was held; I'd guess there were between 300 and 400 people there. 

The slide show primarily documented the relocation process. The wolves normally live in large, customized habitats, a number of which now contain specially constructed fire dens—recent additions that likely made a big difference in the survival of the less socialized wolves who had to be evacuated later, rather than sooner. 

The balloons were part of a raffle for special, donated prizes, one of which will appear later in this post.

Here's this year's program for the event, with the special bookmark featuring Whisper:

Some of the wolves and wolf-dogs serve as ambassadors, because they are able to handle, more comfortably than the others, (1) travel by van, (2) being around people, especially ones they don't know, and (3) unexpected events. These animals are key to the sanctuary's educational programs. I have always seen them taken out together (that is, at least two wolves in each adventure), and their needs always come first. The two ambassadors at the Waltz were Pax and Sasha, who are habitat-mates.

At this year's Waltz, the main room was quite noisy, so Pax and Sasha came inside and looked around (meaning cruised the WHOLE perimeter of the space, quickly), went outside and got quiet again, then got curious and asked to go back inside for another speedy tour, part of which was captured above. They were on site for about an hour, then taken back to their temporary residence while the humans continued to do their thing. If you have access to Facebook, there are much better photos of Pax and Sasha on the W.O.L.F. page there.

Tunyan and Sigmund are also, as two pictures from 2010 show, quite social, but they aren't ambassadors. Among other reasons, Siggi doesn't like the car-transport part of the equation and Tunyan is a sneak-thief with a special interest in cameras.

Here's Sigmund with Kris Paige, who introduced me to the sanctuary and has spun and knitted items of wolf fur for the Waltz for the Wolves auctions for the past several years. Like many of the others, Sigmund is a wolf-dog, with too much wolf in him to be a good household pet. Tunyan is coming up behind Siggi to see whether she can steal my camera.

She didn't get it that time. (Tunyan is Lakota for "brat.")

These are some of the wolves whose fur I spun for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, thanks to Kris's introduction.

One of the reasons that I am fascinated by and interested in the W.O.L.F. Sanctuary is its strong, clear advocacy and its blend of empirical and intuitive guidance. When faced with thorny questions, they consult various people beyond their immediate boundaries, including bioethicist Bernie Rollin, and they pay a great deal of attention to the wolves themselves: what their behavior indicates about what they need. Also because we know Michelle Proulx, who began as a basic-level volunteer (when she was working at the same bookstore that my daughter did) and is now the educational program director for the sanctuary, in addition to being a brilliant animal caretaker.

Michelle is a reason that one of the program items at the Waltz is belly-dancing, because that's another thing that she does. So we enjoyed the proficiency and variety of the Rocky Mountain Belly Dance Company.

This year, Michelle didn't dance with the troupe because, with the fire, she had too many other things she was responsible for. This year her fellow dancers told her enough.

The Stone People Drummers played for the dancers and also by themselves.

The belly-dancers even, later in the evening, got a lot of people up dancing with them because of this kind of energy. 

The live auction included some of the items made by Kris, who had been working on them both before and during the time when she was evacuated from her home. The GREAT auctioneer for the live auction was Debbie Stafford (for an interesting time, read her bio!), who I gathered is the sister of the sanctuary's clinical director, Priscilla Dressen. She did an amazing job.

Back to those gold balloons. They had ticket numbers on them, and could be purchased for a reasonable sum for a chance to win one of the raffle items. By means of her gold balloon, Kris won a custom skateboard with an image of Shaman, a wolf who has been important to her, as well as to a number of other people involved with W. O.L.F.  Kris looks whomped here because she and her husband Earl lost their house and barn to the fire just a week earlier, and she'd recently seen photos of what was left, although she hadn't been to the site yet—pictures of that are forthcoming. We had to egg her on to go to the Waltz, which is a lot to take in for humans as well as wolves—but a number of us, all over the country, thought it was really important for Kris to be there, even though we knew it would be hard. It was hard. It was also worth it: Shaman said so.

Shaman, who has now (as the sanctuary phrases it) returned to spirit, is a perfect guide for the Paiges' rebuilding effort. Two people came over with offers to buy this item from Kris, but we all agreed that it was the perfect thing for her to have as a cornerstone for bringing into existence what will be the Paiges' new home. Shaman was, for a long-time, one of W.O.L.F.'s primary ambassadors, and he's still doing good work.

Here's one of the items Kris donated to the fundraiser—fingerless mitts from Sigmund's fur:

And another, a hat from the signature wolf for this year's Waltz, Whisper:

In all, Kris made two hats, two pairs of fingerless mitts, and a six-foot-or-so scarf, all from either Whisper's or Siggi's fur this year.

Kris is doing much better now. It's one step at a time, and Saturday night was a big and important leap. Thanks to everyone who has sent messages and/or help through the website I mentioned in a previous post. Kris keeps saying things like, "There's someone here who says they came from your blog!" and "Scotland?!" The support, both emotional and practical, is priceless.

Here's another photo of Kris from our visit to the sanctuary in 2010. In this one she's with Rajan, who is a sometimes ambassador (in a pinch, though I hear he'd rather stay home). I think he'd just been nibbling on Kris's hair.

Photos by Judy Fort Brenneman (at the Waltz, because I forgot my camera) and by me and Kris Paige (at the sanctuary).

The wolves have all returned home to their sanctuary habitats now, with much relief all around. W.O.L.F.'s major advance fire planning has paid off—combined with a bit of luck that the fire, when it reached the sanctuary site, was not burning more fiercely than it was. Several small buildings were lost, but the main buildings and most of the habitat—and the fire dens! which worked!—came through.

High Park Fire, 9, relocating dogs

Our friends Kris and Earl Paige have eleven llamas, four livestock guardian dogs, and two cats (one still missing, and we are hoping she found a safe place during the fire: it's possible). Since their house and barn burned down, the Paiges need a place to live, but first the animals need to be settled.

The llamas have been in a first set of temporary digs (two locations, one for the males and one for the females). They are in the process of being moved to a second set of temporary, but more long-term, housing, since it's obvious now that rebuilding will have to occur before they can go home.

Two dogs, Bear and Lady, have been with us, while the other two, Hoss and Heather (siblings), have been boarded at a vet clinic. Just before July 4, Bear was moved over with Hoss and Heather because, while he will protect his llamas from mountain lions, coyotes, and bears, he's afraid of thunder, lightning, and other things that go boom. We have been having daily bouts of thunder and lightning (without much rain), and even with a fireworks ban, we didn't trust folks not to explode things around here. (For the most part, they haven't. But a small handful of people did ignore the prohibition.) 

Hoss, Heather, and Bear now need to be transported to North Carolina to be cared for and to have work to do while demolition and reconstruction happen on the home front. They will be with the friend of the Paiges who introduced them to livestock-dog rescue. The trick is getting the dogs there.

Obviously, with the heat and distance involved the transport vehicle will need to be air-conditioned in the cargo area as well as the passenger area. Unfortunately, it appears that auto rental agencies don't do one-way rentals on cargo vans. What's needed is probably an air-conditioned panel van. The driver who is available and familiar to the dogs has a regular, rather than commercial, driver's license. We're working on finding interior measurements of regular vans to see whether big-dog crates will fit. That information is not readily available online (we keep finding cargo-area width measurements but not length measurements).

Putting this together is like building a house of cards and hoping it doesn't fall over.

All of the dogs were rescues and all have been given appropriate work to do with the Paiges. Directly after the fire, Kris thought she was going to have to turn three of the four over again to guardian-dog rescue for rehoming, until the friend stepped in with the North Carolina solution (offer of housing, as well as support for the expenses of transporting the dogs)—a great relief all around, even if the logistics are complicated.

Bear is a true sweetheart as long as you don't threaten his family, four-legged or two-legged. He's not a house dog or he'd be in our house.

We've done our best to keep him entertained, mostly with frozen peanut-butter-filled bones. When bored or anxious, he tends to go through fences. We thought ours was sturdy. He's determined. It's been reinforced several times during his visit.

We were really sorry to see Bear go to board elsewhere, but we couldn't protect him adequately from the daily weather rumblings and he was so happy to be allowed to share a run with Heather! He was also lonely here, despite our best efforts. We even took our work to the back yard and sat with him to keep him company, but he needs a job to do.

These are Heather and Hoss, in what Kris describes as "an unusual calm moment." Someone in California intentionally crossed Akbash and Irish Wolfhound (I think I have the breeds right) and then, when the pups were ten months old, became alarmed at how large they were getting (this was a surprise?) and wanted to get rid of them.

They're statuesque, and LIVELY. We didn't even consider trying to keep them entertained at our house.

This is Heather:

That's a corner of the house in the background. Kris and Earl were on the property yesterday and in another post I'll share some photos of what is left there. Throughout evacuation and all the other phases of this process, getting the animals settled has come first. Then the people. Then the buildings and property can be dealt with.

And this is Hoss, up on a hay bale, looking for trouble:

His paws are HUGE. So's his nose. Kris says of that photo, "Hoss, standing on the TOP of the hay, woofing down (from about 8 feet up) at me walking into the barn . . . it's his favorite trick."

This morning, FedEx delivered to our house three GIANT dog crates for the transport of Bear, Heather, and Hoss.

Those boxes weigh more than 50 pounds (23 kg) each. I had to hip-shove them out of the way so we could get our bikes in and out of the garage.

Lady understands how to behave in a house, so she will be staying in Colorado during the regrouping time. She can walk on a leash, and do other tricks. She's not as good a livestock guardian as the others, but she's very protective of "her" people. 

We now count in that number of honored folks.

It took a number of days before Lady was willing to come in the house, even when Kris was staying with us. (She and Earl are now with friends who have more space than we do.) Then it took a while longer before she decided she could go on walks with us. Now she's in the house most of the time, and walks with Ceilidh (the Border collie rescue) and Tussah (the red-dog rescue) twice a day.

Which is pretty darn nice.

I'll be glad when all the transport pieces are in place and Bear, Heather, and Hoss can be past this phase of the dislocation. This morning, we measured big dogs for harnesses to be used during travel, and those are being ordered. Food has been ordered for them (four big bags of dog food burned up). The crates have arrived. Now all that's needed is a vehicle that will hold three big crates and is air conditioned.

One step at a time.

Kris and Lady

(The photos are a combination of mine and Kris Paige's.)

High Park Fire, 3

As of this morning, Monday, the High Park Fire is listed as covering 58,046 acres (about 91 square miles) and at 45% contained.

The word contained is one of the most important ones in the reports on progress in firefighting, so I decided to find out how it's defined. The Virginia Department of Forestry has a good collection of terms used in firefighting and discussions of wildfires. Here are three:

• "Contain Fire An effort to prevent further spread of the fire. Frefighters or other resources stop the forward progress of a fire but have not put in all control lines.
• "Control Line Also often called a 'fireline,' this includes lines constructed by firefighters as well as natural barriers to fire such as rock outcroppings, roads, and streams or other water bodies. Foresters construct fire lines by using bulldozers, leaf blowers, chainsaws, shovels, pulaskis, and rakes to clear the line of vegetation down to the mineral soil so that the fire will have nothing to burn when it gets to that point. A term used for all constructed or natural fire barriers used to control a fire.
• "Control of Fire A fire is considered 'controlled' when it is completely surrounded by a 'control line,' which is expected to keep the fire from spreading further. Firefighters and/or other resources completely surround and leave no open line on the fire perimeter."

Note that none of these means that the fire is out or extinguished. What we have been told is that the fire will be put out this fall by nature. Between now and then, human efforts will go into limiting the damage, although even without a full evaluation of lost structures within the fire area the High Park Fire has already exceeded the structural damage of all previous Colorado wildfires. (The Hayman Fire covered the most area.)

Another term on that list has come into play here over the weekend (and continuing):

• "Red Flag Warning A term used by weather forecasters to alert firefighters and citizens to ongoing or approaching fire weather conditions."

Our Red Flag Warning here is the result of very high temperatures (around 100°F/38°C) combined with very low humidity and high winds, at 30 to 50mph (48 to 80km/hr). Yesterday, the winds necessitated the temporary grounding of all the helicopters fighting this fire.

Here's a snapshot from our back yard at about 4:40 p.m. yesterday.

This was when one set of friends arrived at our house. They had been on pre-evacuation notice for a while and got a mandatory notice about 1 p.m.—first for two hours to get out, which shortly after was modified to 20 minutes. Fortunately, in the previous days they had already relocated most of their animals, leaving only one load to bring down the mountain when the "move it!" instructions came: the two remaining dogs, the cats, and themselves, with their two vehicles. The stock trailer was, I think, already down here from when they transported the loads of llamas. They had to check in at several places before they arrived at our house.

Fortunately, three of the four dogs had previously interacted a little. Nonetheless, we made sure the first meeting was out front, on relatively neutral territory. It seemed to go okay.

The BWDs (Big White Dogs) are livestock guardians, two of the four that keep track of the llamas when they're at home up in the mountains. The other two BWDs have been kenneled elsewhere since the llamas were moved (in two batches) to The Ranch, the place for evacuated large animals, and to a private ranch outside the fire area. I think the dogs are a combination of Anatolian shepherds and Akbash.

Finding safe places for animals is one of the challenges of wildfire. Getting them moved quickly and securely requires both advance planning and hard work. (Good news: ALL of the wolves from the WOLF Sanctuary have been evacuated now, and the fire dens that were in place for those that had to be left behind temporarily worked beautifully. Sanctuary evacuation is a big deal for animals and humans alike. Special temporary enclosures had to be constructed, and the animals all seem to be coping well with the move—not a given. Photos and more of the story are on WOLF's Facebook page. I know some of these animals, and they donated fiber for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook.)

In the next photo, Bear is on the left and Lady on the right. They, and the other two of our friends' dogs who are not at our house, are all rescues. When she's at home, Lady actually lives in the house. Bear doesn't know what to do with a house. He wants livestock to keep track of.

Given the calm reactions of the dogs to each other, we moved the big ones to the back yard, and let our relatively small ones in with them.

One of the reasons we have the dogs is that our fencing has been tested over the years by Border collies. We're ready for smart and independent dogs. That gate behind Bear looks a little rickety. Looks are deceiving. There's also a cattle gate right behind it, on the outside. It's secured in a bunch of different ways.

After both dogs checked the perimeter of the yard, Bear found the dirt-bed that our Aussie, Heather, made for herself a bunch of years ago. Heather is no longer with us, but her spirit remains in the household and apparently helped Bear feel like this was an okay place. Even if we didn't have llamas for him.

He settled in, while Lady continued to be antsy for a while.

And then she joined him.

Earlier in the week, our friends brought down the dogloo (insulated doghouse, good for cold or heat), but the deck provides decent shade and we'll be rigging a sunshade for the dogs as well.

I'll close with two photos of the fire that evening. Here's about 6:50 p.m. when I went to the store for groceries, looking across the CSU vet school grounds. This is a bigger evening plume than we've seen, in part because of wind and perhaps also because some of the air-attack equipment had been grounded.

Around 8:40, the temperatures finally got into the lower 90s°F (low 30s°C) and we walked our dogs. This is what the fire looked like from our neighborhood park.

Our friends said the best thing in the day was turning off the cell phones that had been on 24 hours a day since this fire started (and had been also during the Hewlett Fire, for which they also evacuated).

We're taking it one day at a time.

Last night I heard from my Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook co-author Carol Ekarius that a fire has started near where she is. It's called the Springer Fire. Carol is the executive director of the Coalition for the Upper South Platte (CUSP) and part of her job involves environmental recovery from the Hayman Fire of 2002.

It's so dry and hot in the Rocky Mountains right now.

And despite all this, I need to finish prepping for upcoming teaching.

Holidays

The year-turning holidays are always a bit disjointed for me. Here are a few tidbits from recent travels.

First, an art assemblage I saw being constructed at Denver International Airport a while ago. It is ephemeral, as is its topic, and it will be going away. I'll miss it.

It extends through both sides of one of the arched bridges between the terminals and consists of 10,000 paper cranes constructed from an unpublished manuscript, along with similarly sized crystals. Called "Shadow Happy," it is by Brianna Martray.

DIA's copy of the artist's statement is here. There are many more photos on the artist's site, as well as a link to a YouTube video (about 11 minutes long) about the installation, which I'm so glad to have had the opportunity to see part of. I flew in and out of DIA a number of times during construction, guessing at and then having revealed the reasons behind the blue-tape markings throughout the passageway.

"Shadow Happy" will be in place through February 2012 along the walkway from the main terminal to the A concourse.

______

Because of our travel plans, I wasn't able to be in Salida, Colorado, for the winter solstice celebration of the life of my friend Richard Cabe, who left this plane of existence on November 27. Richard, who was among other things a sculptor who saw rocks as "ambassadors of the earth," worked in a way that was as elemental as, although dramatically different from, the vision in "Shadow Happy." (That last link contains a couple of pictures of Richard shaping granite, and a mention of a scholarship in his name to support other artists.)

In our luggage, my daughter and I carried with us some of the materials to make luminarias in Richard's honor, linking the memory of his life to another part of the globe that was important to him, the one we were traveling to, the Pacific Northwest. My sister and brother-in-law had on hand the other items we needed.

It was, fortunately, not raining. Beanie the cat supervised, as did the heron my sister received as a gift one Christmas.

The luminarias burned a long time (except the two that Beanie knocked off the deck rail).

____

Speaking of Beanie, she helped wrap presents:

. . . and got into my luggage and retrieved (and claimed) a plastic-wrapped fish knitted by my friend Jodie Aves. She liked it even better after we took the ripped plastic bag off.

It seemed to make her very happy.

____

The family gathering lasted close to a week and involved our two 87-year-olds, plus honorary long-time family members (I'm not sure what J. is doing with my aunt's cane, but neither she nor Mom looks worried) . . . .

. . . and, for the first time, one of the younger generation participating by video chat from across the country.

I spent a lot of time doing preliminary sorting of family photos and artifacts from the boxes we packed when we moved Mom to an apartment a couple of years ago.

That's just the start of one section of the 1940s material, which included about 200 photos Dad took in China/Burma/India.

____

We were home in time to pick up the dogs from the kennel on New Year's Eve, although I drove the backroads to get there because of the high winds—the interstate is exposed for most of its length. I learned later that it had been closed altogether for a couple of hours that morning. Our trip was uneventful, although the winds had also knocked out traffic signals along our route, and it was good to have the two-legged and four-legged household reunited.

A quiet evening was topped off by neighborhood fireworks (the official city ones had been cancelled because of the weather), which gave Ceilidh an opportunity to demonstrate exactly how small a corner a dog of her size can fit into.

I think her perception is accurate that there is safety in the vicinity of a spinning wheel, a ukulele (the black case along the bottom), and a supply of dog food (the white container).

____

We also played Settlers of Catan on several evenings, as well as one round of Carcassonne, and my daughter and I got my mother and a friend of hers past their stuck spot on one of their jigsaw puzzles. I also managed to get almost all of the yarn samples prepared for teaching at Madrona, but that's a story for another day.

____

May 2012 bring us all lots of friend-visiting time, good conversations, rewarding work and discoveries, and restorative play.

___

Edited to add another "we're home" photo, actually the one that started me writing the post. I looked down this morning and saw this, which amused me a great deal:

It's obviously an indicator that I'm in a familiar environment.

Happy new year again.

KDTV, take 2

I'm not even going to try to make this entirely coherent. That's not how life is right now.

KDTV

Last week I flew to Cleveland again to be a guest for three segments of KDTV series 800. KDTV is Knitting Daily TV, a program that is available for broadcast on public television stations (PBS). A year ago I took this trip and appeared in two segments. I had the pleasure then of working both with Shay Pendray, an amazing woman who established a place for needle arts on public television, and with Eunny Jang, editor of Interweave Knits.

This time, I missed seeing and working with Shay; she had already completed her scheduled appearances and returned home. The trade-off was that because Eunny and I did all three segments together, we were able to get a little better acquainted and as a result could carry the positive energy from one segment to the next. In addition to the segments she did with me, Eunny was also taping introductions and finales and some technique concentrations, so she was busy changing clothes, getting the right demonstration materials ready, and talking to the cameras. Kristin Omdahl, who hosts the crochet sections, had finished her work early but wasn't scheduled to fly out yet, so we were able to visit in odd moments, and that was a treat.

Kristin's recent blog post shows the studio set-up and talks about the TV makeup, plus preparation, suitcases, and wardrobe issues. She's a pro at this and can show you the environment, while I'm just working hard not to trip over my own feet or end up stammering on camera: not much time or energy to document my surroundings or the process. Kristin's post also shows the amazing Annie Bakken, who last year and this managed to be in half a dozen places at once (or so it appeared), doing unobtrusive tasks that kept the process running smoothly, got us where we needed to be, and so on.

The segments are about 5 minutes long, and are timed to the second. The host—in this case, Eunny—keeps track of the timing. In addition to her microphone, which records the audio for the show, she has an earphone and has to listen and respond to information coming in from the production area. I just need to stay on my toes, follow her lead on the general timing, and be ready to let her wrap up when they call time. I imagine tightrope walking would be similar.

One of the segments was on using yak fiber. I talked about the basic qualities, and about using yak either on its own or blended, as well as why yak is a relatively new presence in knitting yarns. Eunny presented a neat hat pattern made with a yak-bamboo blend that features an intricate, but not so hard to work, cable running around its brim.

Back up two months, because it took me about that long to get all the swatches ready for the demonstrations of the segments that I did. For a 40-hour trip, I packed two suitcases and a large backpack. In the backpack and my carry-on suitcase were the absolute essentials: if the check-through bag had gone astray, we could have managed the segments, although not with the ideal array of supplies.

In addition to swatches, yarns, raw and washed fibers, and a bunch of sweaters to use as examples, the suitcases contained about a dozen different shirts and blouses. The garments all needed to be in specific colors, and had to be able to go on and off without messing up the makeup, which is done first and just once. I took the two shirts I wore last year, because I know they worked. I wore one of them again for the DVD I made for Interweave last fall. My daughter said I really shouldn't wear the same thing all the time, so I took along two other new tops I found on sale and a bunch of appropriate knits that I'd found at local resale shops. It's hard to tell in advance what will work best, so it's good to have alternatives.

Fortunately, one pair of black slacks, which I already owned, sufficed for the rest of what I needed.

We ran into a little glitch while filming the segment on why yarns pill. The numbering on one form was off, so Eunny wore the wrong sweater for our first take.

So we got to do it again. This was where it started getting nice that Eunny and I were working together repeatedly. The retake went smoothly. Here's the right sweater, and our smiles embody our confidence that we will hit the revised segment length. These photos are taken in advance of the taping of each segment. In addition to being useful for publicity, they are tacked up on the door to the green room, where everything gets prepared, to help everyone keep track of who wore what, and when. In general, they work really well.

By the way, the sweaters on the stands behind me are thirty and forty years old and have not pilled. In this segment, I talked about fiber content, processing damage, yarn construction, durability, and maintenance, and why and when we make trade-offs that result in pilling. (There is, by the way, an absolutely fantastic article by Erica Heftmann in an old issue of Spin-Off magazine on why yarns pill. Although I worked with other sources, if you want a one-stop overview, Erica did a fantastic job. Summer 1999, pages 70 to 77.)

The final segment involved some information on scouring and washing wools. Recognize Eunny's sweater? It belonged on this segment. I wasn't as happy with the content on this final bit. We did it twice as well, for reasons of the producer's, and I preferred the first version.

Still, Eunny and I managed to do two takes on two segments and keep them fresh-feeling each time. On one of them (and I forget which one), somebody mis-read the timing notes so Eunny was given the "wrap it up" signal at either 20 or 30 seconds too short or too long. I don't remember which. I think we needed to fill an extra 30 seconds on the second take. My job is to speak in ways that are conversational but that I can cut off at any time and sound like I meant to end there.

Then I packed up my suitcases and Kristin and I shared a cab to the airport. I heard she had a delay in getting home, including an extra overnight.

For me, this is what the day looked like, with all times indicated for Mountain Daylight Time, even though Cleveland is on Eastern Daylight.

• 3:45 a.m. Wake up
• 3:45 to 5:15 a.m. Yoga, wash and blow-dry hair, dress, breakfast, pack suitcases, check out of hotel, and be in lobby for ride to studio. I wanted to walk to the studio to see if I could stretch out my back some more, but it was raining and I needed not to show up with wet hair. I am so not a TV-ready person in everyday life!
• 5:15 to 7 a.m. Unpack show materials and begin arranging them on working trays; professional makeup (an hour).
• 7 a.m. to 10:15 a.m. Tape all three segments, two of them twice.
• 10:15 to 10:45 a.m. Lunch.
• 10:45 a.m. to 1:45 p.m. Repack all suitcases, then catch up on e-mail and a little work.
• 1:45 to 4 p.m. Cab to airport, check-in, and security. Buy a salad to take with me because the availability of future food is not at all certain. (Yes, I carry Luna Bars, apples, and other compact, security-friendly emergency fuel.)
• 4 p.m. to 8:45 p.m. Fly home, changing planes at one airport or another, very glad that I have the salad (run from first gate to second, and make it on board as one of the final four passengers).
• 8:45 to 9:50 p.m. Disembark and reclaim the one checked bag. Miss the 9 p.m. shuttle by about 8 minutes. Grab a chai as the airport concessions are closing their accordion barriers for the night. Drink chai and do some reading while awaiting the shuttle.
• 9:50 to 11:45 p.m. Shuttle ride home.
• 11:45 p.m. to 1 a.m. Dinner, shower, bed.

Next day: in bed with a cold! Likely the result of not being able to dodge secondhand smoke (to which I'm allergic) while in the shuttle areas outside airports. I need to get rid of the congestion and start packing for SOAR, in addition to doing enough work at my desk that the office won't collapse while I'm gone again.

Packing for events other than KDTV involves a lot more fiber, but much easier clothing options: t-shirts, jeans, whatever sweaters I want to wear. And no makeup at all!

 

It's been busy around here . . .

. . . and I have a backlog of ideas for posts. For some of them, I need to find the items to photograph, and I haven't had time to organize the office (or the rest of the house) for the next phase of research and work.

Here are some of the reasons why. . . .

Starting up my freelance business again

During the final phases of preparation for publication of The Book (now being referred to on Ravelry as FFSB, for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook), I had to turn down almost all other freelance work. Getting that part of my life started again has meant re-thinking the way I go about it, and getting more closely focused on the clients and projects where I have the most to offer.

The result of all this has been two new pieces of written material:

1. An introduction to editorial work in general, and to working with me in particular (should be helpful for anyone who's thinking about consulting an editor)
2. A questionnaire for potential editing clients, which has the intention of setting up a solid foundation for figuring out whether this writer, this editor, and this project are all simpatico (again, should be of value for folks working with me or with others)

Right now, those links lead to a public section of my Dropbox account. Soon I hope to have them on my personal website (see the next section of this post, about the thesis, for why they're not there yet). Although I've tested the documents thoroughly, I still consider them works-in-progress and welcome feedback.

In addition to the thinking and writing and information design involved in producing these pieces, I needed to learn how to make a fillable PDF. Then I upped the ante, because I wanted a form that could be used on both PCs and Macs (plus Linux, but the Linux folks can manage just about anything on their own). I also wanted the PDF to allow the user to print, to save a partially filled-out form, and to send the results to me, as needed.

Getting those functions into a PDF is not as straightforward as I thought it should be. Each involves a separate set of solutions. Having discovered this, I now understand why some PDFs that I've run into have not let me save my responses or print, as well as why the "print" and "submit" functions didn't work on my Mac, while the "clear form" command, with what appeared to be identical types of coding, did. Lynda.com got me through all of these problems except for the Mac issues, which I just needed to bash around and puzzle out. Several friends tested my drafts on other systems; I'm grateful.

There's never a dull moment in the world of technology. I'm also learning new software: DevonThink, MarsEdit, and I forget what else. My most recent completed post came from a digression on this topic. Several started-but-not-published posts keep getting shoved back due to my long list of tasks, chores, and responsibilities. And a few pleasant milestones that have been too important to miss.

My daughter's thesis defense

My daughter, who is my webmistress (her choice of title), is well on her way to having earned a master's degree. Just under two weeks ago, she defended her thesis.

There was lots of paperwork involved, framing and documenting a discussion with the three faculty members of her committee.

Two of the profs came from her program, the rhetoric and composition section of the English department, which encouraged her in looking at computer-game culture from the perspective of literacy and communication. Her outside reader is in the sociology department. She dug into her topic from multiple angles, including visual rhetoric (a comparatively undeveloped field), theory of composition, sociological theory, and autoethnography.

Her biggest challenge throughout the thesis process has been defining a topic that was small enough to be contained in about 25,000 to 30,000 words. The final subject: rhetoric of gender in Mass Effect 2. (She did rationalize including brief coverage of a number of other games, to make certain points or establish the position of Mass Effect 2 within the universe of computer games and within her broad area of study. Some of the thoughts that didn't fit into the thesis were diverted into presentations she made at three national conferences this spring, and even more went into major projects for classes she was taking.)

Many of the committee members' questions were prefaced by words of this general sort: "Now, this angle would only really be relevant if you were doing a dissertation rather than a thesis, but let's talk about it anyway." One of the most interesting questions, toward the end, was: "What if there were no such thing as gender?" Everyone laughed, in part because the query wondered about the existence of such a basic idea and in part because it also elicited even deeper examination of the issues. Then we listened as my daughter considered, out loud, what that would mean.

I wish I had the whole event on tape, because I would like to listen to what she said again. In the not-too-distant future, she'll need to talk (or write) about the new ideas that arose, in addition to writing for other sets of audiences about what she put together for her thesis. The committee estimated that she has three distinct publishable academic papers within its pages. In addition, she intends to connect in the future with game designers, producers, and players. (Because of research constraints, she has not so far been able to engage in discussions within the gaming community.)

Here's the support team, minus the one who was behind the camera:

We were a motley crew, but a friendly one. (Knitting: swatch. Yarn: Swaledale wool, chunky.)

After the conversation, we observers waited in the hallway while the committee discussed whether my daughter had passed the thesis requirement.

Yes—with distinction!

Much more paperwork followed. As it turned out, even I received a request to sign something. It wasn't an official form. The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook shows up in unexpected places.

We adjourned to a nearby coffee shop for chai and a celebration, plus all the questions and comments that the observers, who did not participate in the official proceedings, had jotted down while listening.

The rest of the degree process involves getting correctly signed papers to the appropriate offices in quick order, along with formatting and digitally submitting the thesis. My daughter is making a few changes for her own satisfaction, but none were required by her committee. They encouraged her to go on for a Ph.D. There are lots of hurdles between here and that possibility. An early question is where. It was hard enough finding a program that would let her do the work she wants to do at the master's level! The program she has been in doesn't have a doctoral-level component.

In the long (or short) run, she wants to consult to the game-development industry on how to significantly increase their market, and improve their game-play experiences, by not actively alienating huge potential market sectors, as they currently do. It's not clear to her that a Ph.D. would help her do that, although it might.

Simple cleaning and organizing

Following the publication of The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, I am woefully behind on housework and clutter-abatement. It's been hard to manage The Project within the available space, which means that while the files related to that one part of my life have stayed excruciatingly well sorted and filed, everything else has fallen into disarray. There's been no time. A project of that scope and size, undertaken within the relatively short time-frame of four years, requires the development of an obsessive approach that narrows the focus to a single, complex goal. Almost everything else goes into a mental cabinet labeled "after deadline."

"After deadline," what would really be appealing is a vacation, although sometimes that isn't an option. (But see the next two items.)

Over the weekend, I've been working on labeling fabric swatches for teaching, and rearranging some books, and making piles of accumulated stuff to go to the next charity pickup. (I can't do too much of this, much as I'd love to take a month just to clean and clear things out, because I do have more deadlines to keep track of.) I'd like to reclaim the living room, kitchen, office, and bedroom in the foreseeable future. I've made some progress in the living room and kitchen, but there's a way to go yet. The office and bedroom are getting worse, I hope temporarily, as the central areas get better.

Border collie rescue "reunion"

We took Ceilidh to her first "reunion" with a bunch of dogs adopted through Western Border Collie Rescue. If all the eligible dogs had come, there would have been more than seven hundred. As it was, there were only, oh, sixty or seventy. Or maybe a hundred and twenty. I can't count things that move that fast.

Lots of different activity areas.

We talked to some folks about treibball, a sport that is mentally challenging but low-impact. Ceilidh, at two, already has signs of some arthritis, so we're looking for high-brain-power, low-joint-strain things for her to learn. Ceilidh was a little distracted by all the other things in the vicinity.

So we decided to introduce ball-herding later and went to play around in the tennis-ball-and-frisbee area. Throwing balls for a field full of Border collies is a kick.

Siblings get to attend the gathering, so Tussah tagged along.

We met some dogs who were up for adoption at the same time as Ceilidh and were delighted to learn that they'd found their "right" homes, just as Ceilidh found hers. What a treat.

Vacation

Here's my almost-daily vacation.

Most days, I mess around with it for ten to twenty minutes, usually just noodling with Uncle Rod's Ukulele Boot Camp. I have no purpose for playing the ukulele, other than not working for a short while.

Saturday morning, I spent about an hour and a half at the inaugural meeting of a local ukulele group. Interesting folks, from "never did music before" to several types of professional musicians with a remarkable lack of pretentiousness.

And

. . . that's about a third of what's going on around here.

Cheviots divided and conquered (maybe)--and a new sheep book

It's been quiet around the blog, although not in real life. Last time I checked in, we had discovered a major problem with the Cheviot treatment in the book (fortunately still in production, so changes are possible . . . although not for long). Several weeks have passed, full of deadlines and travel and lots of great experiences and fine people.

As of yesterday, we have resolved the Cheviot question as best we can without resources that don't, as far as we know, exist (such as DNA data). We submitted a rewrite of three full pages (47, 50, and 51) to the publisher. We also finished devising the final 75 captions, all of which had to be extraordinarily succinct.

Here's a new book I've been following through its production process for about a year and a half, which has finally been released (it's got something to say, and show, about most of the Cheviots):

It's the new British Sheep and Wool from the British Wool Marketing Board (BWMB). Although the breed on the cover is not identified with a caption anywhere, those are Exmoor Horn sheep.

(The Exmoor Horn is a critically vulnerable breed due to geographical concentration, which means 75% of the population lives within a radius of less than 12.5km, or 7.6 miles. Exmoor Horns grow nice wool that's easy to spin and is good for making sweaters, blankets, hats, mittens, pillows, and other textiles that will be pleasant and durable in everyday use.)

Here's the book's coverage of one of the breeds for which we had to revise our treatment, the Brecknock Hill Cheviot:

They're Cheviots from Wales (the Cheviots originated on the Scottish/English border). No, the new BWMB book didn't help us find answers to our questions about the Cheviots, but I sure love the photos—which are equally clear, abundant, and varied for all the types of sheep within the publication's pages. Three of the four Cheviots we needed to untangle are shown in this book (the fourth originated in North America).

The new book's 180 pages cover exclusively sheep that are found in the British Isles, of course. The marketing board came up with a list of 75 types (breeds and classic crossbreeds). Some of these sheep have been introduced from elsewhere, but the majority evolved within the British Isles. A enormous variety of types developed in the islands in response to dramatically distinct environments.

At the front of the book are a few essays on topics like the history of British wool and the role of the wool board, along with an index of wool types. Most helpful to me—because I hadn't visited that part of the world until quite recently—is a simple map on page 9 that names the basic regions of England, Wales, and Scotland. A ten-year-old raised there would likely be familiar with the terms, but someone from elsewhere probably only has a vague idea from, say, reading novels. The map also shows the St Kilda, Orkney, and Shetland archipelagos in their proper locations (instead of in squares relocated to fit on a printed page). St Kilda and Orkney aren't labeled as such; they bear the names of the sheep that originated on particular islands—although other sheep names aren't on the map (for example, Orkney is labeled "North Ronaldsay" but southwestern England doesn't have a label for "Cotswold"). Thus the map i.d. notes are inconsistent, but still useful.

Then there's the table of contents, fascinating in its own right. There are so many possible ways to organize sheep! Carol Ekarius and I spent months kicking back and forth different ideas for clustering and sequencing the animals in our upcoming book. At this point, having lived with our system for quite a while, I'm extremely comfortable with it, which means I think we made the right choices. Yet it's intriguing to see how another publication is set up. We all see things through our own filtering lenses.

The British Wool Marketing Board is responsible for maintaining the economic viability of British wool in the national and global marketplace. Here's their self-description: "The British Wool Marketing Board operates a central marketing system for UK fleece wool with the aim of achieving the best possible net returns for farmers." The groups of sheep and the information provided for the individual breeds reflect that focus. In today's marketplace, the best possible net returns for farmers come from meat production. Wool is what is called a "second crop." Even when the wool board's reason for being is to increase the value of WOOL, its work takes place within the context of the dominance of meat and the need to connect large quantities of wool with industry.

That's a really different emphasis from mine, which is exclusively oriented toward wool (as a handspinning vegetarian, I have only an abstract and peripheral interest in the meat part of the equation), with an additional bias in favor of hand-processing, rather than (or, more accurately, in addition to) fiber that's industry-friendly.

Sections in the new BWMB book include:

• Fine wools (Note that this is "fine" by the standards of mass production for British wools.)
• Medium wools
• Cross wools (These are mashams and mules, crossbreds that are traditional in the British sheep-management system.)
• Lustre wools (These are mostly the British longwools . . . interestingly, Border Leicester and Romney are located in the "medium" category, although Bluefaced Leicester is here with the luster wools.)
• Hill wools
• Mountain wools
• Naturally coloured wools (Although there are rare breeds in the other categories, most of the breeds in this group are rare or vulnerable.)

I'm always interested in seeing how groups are assembled and which breeds end up where. I can see the reasoning behind the placement of Border Leicester and Romney with the medium wools, although in our book we've put them with the English longwools. Is the organizer looking at history, wool quality, or a balance between the two? If history, which sources and aspects are given greatest weight? And if wool quality, which components of it are considered most important?

I was curious to note that in the breeds and wool types chart (page 10), the "fine" category is listed as containing wools with micron counts between 29 and 35. First reason for my curiosity: this is not a range of micron counts that is considered "fine" on the global scale (most Merino wools run from about 18 to about 24 microns). Second reason: some of the breeds in the BWMB "fine" list can grow fleeces with smaller fiber diameters than 29. Assigned numbers set aside for the moment, the same chart shows locks that are characteristic of each of the categories, and these images are extremely informative: they illustrate the different characters of the types of wool, each resulting from a combination of lock shape, crimp configuration, and other qualities.

Within the bulk of the book, each breed gets a two-page spread that contains WONDERFUL photographs plus a brief text description and some comparative numbers. The micron-count range for each breed is given as a one- to four-micron span, with most breeds described as having two- to three-micron variability. For example. Devon Closewool's fleece is given a micron range of 34–35 microns, and Lincoln Longwool is tagged with 35–38 microns. The estimates for fiber diameter in our upcoming book are a good deal broader than that; consistency at those narrowly defined levels just doesn't happen in many breeds.

Yet the presence of these small spans begins to make sense when I remember that the wool-classing system in use in Britain goes by fiber quality and is not breed-specific. When breed names are used to designate the classes, as they sometimes (but not always) are, the breeds are considered emblematic of the type of wool in that class, not necessarily the only contributors to it.

I'm very interested in how people who spend so much time thinking about and managing wool decide to present the breeds.

Their perspective is, as I've noted, very different from mine. I think about single fleeces (or sections of fleeces) and they think about bales of wool. I think about my spinning wheel, and they think about the world commodity market. These orientations frame our ways of understanding the common materials we work with. Some fibers that have high value for me (say, naturally colored wool) have very limited value for them.

People at the British Wool Marketing Board were enormously helpful in getting us generous wool samples from of a bunch of breeds we were having trouble obtaining. Each time I spin a bit of that fiber, I'm grateful. Several of those breeds are low-value in their system, and also are customarily low-value within the hand-processing community. Having encountered them now at my wheel, however, I treasure the experience, have copious ideas about how to use yarns spun from them, and wonder where I'll get more when I've run through my samples. . . .

This new publication is a wonderful book. The group that assembled it has worked hard to make it excellent, and they have succeeded. I'm especially fond of the photographs. Because the book's focus is not the same as mine, the fact that we didn't have access to it while we were researching was not a loss. So I'm glad to be able to enjoy it now, when I don't have to rush past its information on my way to another destination that would yield more of the types of data that I was collecting.

Thanks so much to the friends who made sure I got a copy as soon as it was released. I carried it with me to Michigan when I taught there, tantalized Beth Smith with it, and she is likely to be stocking it at The Spinning Loft, which will likely be an easier place for North Americans to obtain it than from the British Wool Marketing Board, although direct orders from the wool board are possible.

The sheep on the back cover is a Dorset Horn (Rare Breeds Survival Trust watchlist, minority category).

___

Soon: A glimpse of the workshops I taught at The Spinning Loft in Michigan, and a few notes about the DVD recording session at Interweave Press.

___

Meanwhile, I have taken a few breaths following the onslaught of work and am reading The Scent of the Missing, by Susannah Charleson. It's about finding, training, and working with a search-and-rescue dog. Excellent.

On a related note, our new rescue Border collie Ceilidh and I have completed beginning obedience. Yay!

A wonderful, windy Puppy Up! walk

Yesterday the inaugural Puppy Up! walks to support comparative oncology research took place in twelve U.S. cities, including Fort Collins, Colorado, and through a number of "virtual" and impromptu walks. I've been involved behind the scenes with the Fort Collins walk, in honor and in support of both human and canine friends who have needed to deal with cancer.

The idea behind these walks is that cancer research that can be done with dogs benefits both the pups and humans. Dr. Rod Page, director of the Animal Cancer Center at Colorado State University, was recently interviewed by Sarah Hansen for the Fort Collins Coloradoan (published November 6, 2010). As he observed, "We treat beloved pets, we don't perform lab experiments. . . . They get the same consideration that human patients get, the same level of care, the same sensitivity."

(The Coloradoan link may only be freely available for a limited time after the article's initial publication.)

What is learned through the animals' experiences turns out to directly benefit humans as well. I've heard a number of stories about people whose cancer treatments have been substantially more effective (in all ways) as a result of connections between their doctors and the docs at the vet hospital.

So we walked for the dogs and we walked for the people. As of a week before the event, about 250 people had registered for the local walk. Fort Collins "won" the fundraising effort (the decision date was the third week in October) and thus also earned the pleasure of having 2 Million Dogs founder Luke Robinson and his dogs, Murphy and Hudson, join us.

The morning of the event, I worked with Cynthia, who drove in from near Glenwood Springs, and her husky, Sky, to set up the dogs' water stations and fill the buckets and bowls. Then I tended the Puppy Up! sales table (which generated more funds for research), which meant that our Tussah, who doesn't like big crowds of people or dogs, could have a relaxed experience of the day.

During set-up, we had beautiful weather.

Calm in all regards.

We'd been concerned about the weather, because this is Colorado, and this is what November 13 looked like last year:

That's Ariel (with her beloved wheels), Tussah, and my daughter.

We didn't get snow yesterday. However, shortly before the walk was scheduled to begin the sky darkened and the wind began to blow. It kept blowing for several hours, until just after the conclusion of the event.

We had a good time anyway.

Here's organizer Claire Preston, managing not to be swept away while giving the introductory comments:

 

All speakers kept their comments brief, and the later ones abandoned the stage. The wind was serious. Later in the afternoon, someone who'd been flying a kite in the park got pulled off his feet and slammed into a tree. Fortunately, other than being stunned and shaken, he was basically okay, but for a while that was in question.

Luke, Murphy, and Hudson led off the walk, definitely undaunted by the windstorm (and smart enough not to have brought kites):

The rest of the participants weren't inhibited, either.

The stroller right behind Luke and his buddies contained two pups currently in treatment.

We think the walk ended up being a little longer than intended, because the signs marking the route blew away, but nobody minded. Here are some glimpses of the official tromp around the huge park:

It was only after I got home and looked at my photos that I realized how many dogs were wearing the green bandanas that indicated they had been or currently were being treated at the Animal Cancer Center.

Including Boon. . . .

. . . being towed in his personal transportation device by Connie Fredman, who provides home-away-from-home services for animals whose owners can't stay with them in Fort Collins while the critters are being cared for.

And Murphy:

A few more photos:

The dog with the orange vest (and the human orange-clad arm nearby) in the photo just above is part of one of several Larimer County Search and Rescue teams who were present (I think that's Merlin). The search and rescue group recently lost a six-year-old canine member, Trace, to cancer and were walking for Trace and others.

Some folks drove all the way from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to join the closest walk in remembrance of a number of pups, honored on a wheelchair-mounted banner:

Here's Lady:

Husky Sky, meeting a new friend:

And Tussah, checking things out from her personal space (after I'd used a handy bundle of string to keep the t-shirts from blowing away):

I'm not, as I've said before, much of a fundraiser. I do better with behind-the-scenes jobs, like staying after an event and making sure the site is well enough cleaned that the group will be allowed to use it for future activities.

Yet I put up what felt to me like an ambitious fundraising goal, and as of the day before the walk I was, thanks to several anonymous donations, a mere $5 short of reaching that figure. I thought briefly about topping off with a donation of my own, but my finances currently argue in favor of in-kind rather than cash contributions. So I was surprised when a friend came up to me yesterday and told me I'd not only reached but exceeded my goal, through yet another donation.

All of the folks who pitched in to help with my fundraising page were anonymous, which I think is great, and I want to thank you here. It doesn't matter who does this work, or whether we get individual credit for it. It just matters that we get it done.

Luke Robinson's vision is the complete eradication of cancer. Soon. It's an ambitious idea, but so was his walk, with his dogs, from Austin to Boston . . . as is the thought that we can have a bunch of walks occur simultaneously across the country. He talks about the project being more about "friend-raising" than "fundraising," although clearly it is the latter as well.

Every little bit counts. When I signed on to help with this event, I knew I didn't have much time or energy or money to contribute. I also knew that I needed to do whatever I could. I never agreed to a task that I didn't think I could comfortably manage, and I didn't hesitate to say "okay" to things I thought I could fit around my other responsibilities.

And look what we all managed to do!

It was fun, too.

Even in the midst of a serious blow (check out the dogs' ears and tails).