We have lambs! The two ‘early ewes’ (the Columbia and Columbia/Hamp cross) had their lambs this week … of course after several days of lovely weather, when it dropped to –31, they decided to have their babies. :)
We were anticipating just such an event, though, and were ready to warm up the babies and get their mamas into the barn for warmth and peace and quiet.
This morning, The Boy saw this out the window:
Love, sunshine, and peace.
I have, to my surprise, discovered that restoring antique wheels is a remarkably satisfying and engaging activity. It’s a hobby that probably borders on obsession/addiction, but hey, I’m okay with that.
I regularly surf the local Kijiji for wheels that might need some restoration or the attention of a spinner/fixerupperperson and this past week I found an ad for an interesting European wheel. I emailed the seller and discovered that they had THREE wheels for sale – one complete, one with the flyer but no bobbin, and one with neither.
I am now the long-distance-almost-owner of ...
I can’t wait to see how these wheels clean up and to get them back into spinning condition. Once they are restored, I hope to put them in the hands of spinners who will be part of ensuring that they have ‘another century of productive life’.
Tonight, the Small People were admiring the wheels in the living room (there are quite a few at the moment…) and ended up over by the wee little Lithuanian wheel. They asked about the distaff (“you put the wool on this board and stick it in place with the poky thing, then you spin from there”) and turned the wheel to see the flyer go around. We looked at the double drive band, and saw that the string is tighter around the bobbin whorl than the flyer whorl, and so the bobbin and flyer turn at different speeds for each turn of the drive wheel. I twisted the bobbin, and Dinosaur Boy turned the flyer and we admired how the two pieces work independently of one another but cooperate to make yarn.
Then I helped them place their tiny feet on the treadle and said “Feel that? There were people spinning on this wheel a hundred years ago and their feet wore down that wood, right where your foot is now, treadling over and over to make yarn for their families.”
Before she went to bed tonight, the little Princess Girl asked if tomorrow I would teach them more about the spinning wheels.
Of course I will. :)
Meet Valerija (va-LAIR-ee-ya), my new-to-me Lithuanian wheel.
She is named for the lady who lived next door to my sister, in Lituania – every time I looked at this wheel, I couldn’t help but be reminded of this lady that I have heard so many stories about. My sister says she would think it quite funny to have a wheel named for her. :)
I acquired this wheel through Ravelry, in trade for Bridgit, my Ashford Traveller. Much as I loved the Traveller, after spinning on Jacqueline the Canadian Production Wheel for awhile, I knew I’d fallen hard for the antique wheels, and the Traveller just wasn’t going to see much use at this house. It’s a shame for a wheel to sit unused, and as it turned out, a lady in Calgary who teaches spinning had this old wheel, purchased from an antique dealer, and it needed just a little more work. As her spinning students often need to use wheels borrowed from the instructor, an Ashford was of more use to her – and the antique was of more use to me. With the help of my sister and brother in law in Calgary, and a friend from town who went down to Calgary on a trip (to pick up her own Canadian Production Wheel, actually) the trade was arranged, and this little wheel made it to my house.
One of the great things about the Lithuanian wheels is that they break down into pieces for transport: the story goes that the women would knock down their wheel, stuff it into a sack, and go to a friend’s house to spin for the day … then repeat the process in reverse on the way home! This wheel had been glued together by the antique dealer (gasp) but most of that had been resolved before she came to me. I got a box of parts that looked like this:
It didn’t take long to figure out how they all went together, though, and with a piece of leather shoelace to tie the footman in place and to replace the wooden loop that went over the drive crank, we were in business. The paddle thing that sticks up at the top is called a distaff, and holds the fibre you are spinning. This wheel probably spun mostly flax, but it also works for wool.
If you look closely at the treadle, you can see where the wood has been worn down by the feet of spinners before me.
As soon as I sat at the wheel, my foot settled into exactly the same groove. You can’t begin to imagine how cool that feels.
This is why I love the old wheels. With just a bit of love, oil, and a new piece or two they come back to life, humming along as they fill their bobbins with yarn.
I like knowing that one of the things I’ll leave behind me are these wheels – useful tools, well made and carefully maintained. I’m not the craftsman, just the custodian … but still.
Another century of life.
One of the wheel wrights on Ravelry said one day, “Have you ever thought that maybe you have added another century to the life of this wheel?”
This week, I got the chance to be part of the next century of another Canadian Production Wheel. I tell you, it’s such a great feeling!
A Bordua wheel showed up on the Alberta kijiji listings, and I posted to the Ravelry board to see if anyone wanted me to pick it up and foster it until the new owner and I could meet up: someone from “the absolute centre of nowhere, Saskatchewan” piped up, so while I was in Calgary yesterday helping my sister and brother-in-law move to their new place, I picked up the wheel.
It’s the same maker as mine – but this one has a mark! I’ve never seen a maker’s mark on the wheel with my own eyes before, so that was quite something.
Here are the two wheels side by side:
There are a few differences – the one in front (that’s the one I picked up in Calgary) has some more detail (extra lines on the wheel rim, wooden ‘toggles’ to hold the uprights and one of the maidens in position, finer turnings on the spokes and maidens). One theory is that over time, the maker dropped some of the finer points of construction. I wonder, too, if perhaps there were different models, like with cars – the routine style and the ‘upgraded’ style.
This wheel was (I shudder to even say it) painted brown with gold trim … the people I picked it up from had bought it that way, and promptly stripped the horrid paint job (and not erased the maker’s mark, which is impressive!) and kept it as a lovely decoration for years. Now, it’s back in service making yarn … and I’ve had a hand in giving it another century of life. Wow.
It’ll be handed off to the new owner this summer, at Fibre Week, when we will both be in the same place … then it’ll travel home to Saskatchewan where it can continue to sing it’s quiet, happy, productive song at the hands of yet another generation of spinners.
When spinning, one hand is 'forward' and one is 'back' - the forward one controls the twist, and the backward one holds the pile of fibre. I spin with my right hand forward, and the pile of fibre in my left hand. This is fine on a wheel where the orifice is right in front of you as it doesn't much matter which way you twist ... but with the Canadian Production Wheel, it's a bit trickier. They were probably intended for the opposite arrangement of hands – it’d definitely be bit easier to arrange yourself at the wheel if you spun with the hands in the other positions, anyway.
Still, I’ve discovered that this slightly unexpected alignment of spinner and wheel seems to work quite well:
The wheel is more beside me than directly in front of me, and that leaves plenty of room for drafting.
Of course, in this picture I’m spinning lovely machine prepped rovings so able to do that fancy long draw technique. :)
I also managed to fill a bobbin (i.e. spin up two lumps of roving that were each about as big around as a soccer ball) in an hour. This truly is a production wheel!
Translation for non-spinners: Most wheels have multiple bobbins, so you fill one, then take it off and put a different one on, fill that, then put the 2 full bobbins on something called a “Lazy Kate” – no, I don’t know why it’s called that – which holds them steady as you take the 2 single strands of yarn from the full bobbins and ply them together onto yet another bobbin to make 2 ply balanced yarn. If you have only one bobbin (most antique wheels have just the one), you have to put the first batch of single ply yarn ... well, somewhere … while you make the second batch, and then you need both batches of singles to be conveniently unwinding themselves as you twist them together into a balanced yarn. This is the One Bobbin Problem.So ... I offer *The Lazy Fred* for your consideration.
