Good Night Moon

This fall I participated in the Great Competition of Weavers .  It was so so so much fun, and a really useful kick in the rear end to sit myself down at the loom!  It is a competition of weavers of babywearing wraps from all over the world.  If you are interested in such things, or would like to vote the next time around, go join Loom to Wrap on Facebook and keep an eye out for the 2016 competition(s).

The theme this time was "Children's Literature." Honestly, I was a little bit on the fence about whether I wanted to enter this fall.  I had only just found out about it, and with the baby on the way, I was debating the wisdom of diving quite so headfirst into such a project.  But when the theme was announced, I knew there was no choice.  I had to do it.  And I had to do "Good Night Moon" by Margaret Wise Brown.  I have to admit that I second guessed myself a number of times, most notably perhaps when the yarn showed up at my door.  The bright and primary colors used to illustrate "Good Night Moon" are SO not my colors.  I almost threw in the towel right then.  But I'm so glad I didn't.

I was an English major in college, and as such the word 'literature' has certain connotations for me.  I recognize that the genre of "children's literature" contains any story for children that is printed on a page and disseminated in the form of a book.  But for me, not any story would do.  Literature is somehow something more.  And you see, "Good Night Moon" taught me to read.  It was therefore the only book I could do.

I don't have any memory of not being able to read.  I remember not being able to write.  I have memories from an age at which I know that I was not yet reading.  But I have no memory of written words as a code that I did not understand.  My mother read "Good Night Moon" to me over and over.  Hundreds if not a thousand times or more.  She tells me that I had it memorized, that I would "read" it to friends and visitors before I had actually acquired reading as a skillset.  But between being read other books (lots of them!  all the time!) and a constant repetition of "Good Night Moon," I decoded written language and began reading on my own at age 3 or so.  So in a very real way, beyond being a great kids book, "Good Night Moon" opened my doors to the vast and wonderful world of literature.  

I wanted to honor the words of the story, somehow pay homage to the code of the writing that this book illuminated for me.  So in addition to choosing the colors of the book for the pattern of the warp, I decided to weave the story into the weft.  The weft alternates between black and white, and by a very happy accident this alternation along with the stripes in the warp combine for a gorgeous tartan effect.  

I assigned each letter in the alphabet a number, 1 through 26.  I assigned the spaces between letters the value of 2 and the spaces between words the value of 5.  And I proceeded to weave the letters in black and the spaces in white, spelling out the text of the story.  So if you were to spend the time counting the threads of the wrap or happened to have a scanner with the correct programming, the wrap can be read similarly to a bar code from tail to tail.  It begins "In the great green room...."

The colors of the warp are pulled from this page:

They are a stylized representation, perhaps a distillation, of the patterns of color as they move across the page (and across the width of the warp) from left to right.  You can see the stripes of green and yellow for the curtains, the little rainbow for the bookshelf on one side, and the blue and white stripes of the bunny's pajamas on the other side.

All in all, I'm very happy with how the design turned out.  I hope that someone enjoys the tartan wrap as a staple of an autumn wardrobe, as a Christmas-y accessory, or on a future trip to Scotland!  I'll be selling it via draw real soon on the 14 Mile Farm Facebook page.  

"Goodnight room, goodnight moon, goodnight cow jumping over the moon."

Turn the tap

Fairbanks was hit by early-onset winter this week.  Just shy of 20 inches of wet snow after a week of rain left the roads a mess and felled countless trees.  Over 10,000 homes were without power and many still are.  It is times like these when I most appreciate the fact that our home's systems rely entirely on us.  That our powerline is a 20 foot cable from the connex to the house.  Grid failures don't affect us. Of course there are times when we pay our own dues.  We were without power from February through June of this year as we worked on the generator and got it back in shape.

Its a luxury, for sure and for certain, to be able to turn on light and heat and music at the flip of a switch or the press of a button.

But what has made this week THAT MUCH MORE amazing?  What luxury I am absolutely reveling in??  

We have running water.

We have HOT running water.

It has been over two years since I have been able to take a shower in my bathroom, wash a load of clothes in my washer, or turn the tap in the kitchen.  I can now do all of these things!  Seriously.  There's this metal tube that curves out over my kitchen sink.  And when I turn this metal handle next to it, water comes out.  If I turn this other metal handle and wait a few moments... HOT water comes out of it.  It is insanely amazing.

The Darlin'Man fixed what was wrong with the pipes connecting the well to the house, and then he fixed the hot water heater.  My father-in-law installed a small propane heater in the bathroom, which has meant that not only can this increasingly-pregnant and increasingly-sore mama shower after a long day...  she can also luxuriate in a hot bath in a warm room!

Folks, this is both magical and revolutionary to life-as-we-know-it.  Hot baths or even better, epsom salt baths or bubble baths have become my absolutely favorite go-to therapeutic tool.  As this last month of pregnancy begins to creep along, I cannot even tell you how essential soaking in hot water has become!  And now I can.  In my own home.  I'm so, so grateful.

Here's to tea lights, lavender oil, rose petals and a tub of hot water!  Pure bliss.

What is your favorite self care ritual?

Equinox Turns

I love the dark half of the year.  I love the changing colors, brief though their tenure is here in Fairbanks.  I love the starry nights, the aurora overhead.  I love the snow.  The cold.  The really really cold.  The dark.  I love the way the light lingers near the horizon and never ventures overheard.  I love seeing the moon at night.  I love the way that the dark half of the year invites us deeper.  Requires us to seek out the warmth, the community, the intimacy of connection with our dearest ones.  Sings to us of the depths of heart, offers a well of creativity into which to dive. 

@ForestandFieldPhotography

Today marks the cusp.  The transition from light to dark.  Today hovers at 12 hours of daylight, and this evening promises 12 hours of stars.  Today marks our transition to the depths, as the pendulum of the year swings by. 

This year, the cold and the dark brings with it a squirming squishy bundle of new life.  My hibernation this winter will be sleepless but full of cuddles.  A transition perhaps more profound than any I have conscious memory of.  You may have to remind me of this in a couple of months when I am exhausted and on the verge of tears.  But right now?  Looking ahead?  I truly look forward to sitting on the couch in front of the woodstove, raw and open and vulnerable to the tidal pull of new life and new love, shirtless with sore nipples as we figure out this breastfeeding thing, sitting on an herbal compress and letting my husband feed the fire and rustle up the meals.  Nothing outside the triad of forming a family.

Equinox is a time of rooting down.  Of pulling our energy from the branches and the world to nourish what is deepest and most necessary.  What are your roots this season?  How will you care for them?