Days of a Plague Day 22, April 16 - Day 28, April 22

Day 22, April 16. I'm loosing track, so I will note them here.
* February 3, Diamond Princess quarantined at Yokohama.
* February 28, first confirmed case in New Zealand.
* March 5-14, there were five positive cases for ten days, prompting now-celebrated Ashley Bloomfiled to reject all kinds of measures because, "We [are] not there yet," which is why I am not a fan. Always reactive, even when proven wrong, (need for testing, PPE guidance/rules regarding supplies to medical professionals, and lay people wearing cloth masks,) he's adamant. We could have done even better.   
* March 21, Jacinda announced the four alert level system. Two cases, #40/#41, tested positive in Nelson.
* March 23, Jacinda announced we would be entering Level 4 on March 26. (In retrospect, with each of her announcements, we entered Level 2 on March 21, Level 3 on March 23.)
* March 26, we started the "initial" four weeks of Level 4 isolation.
(EDIT) * April 28, we moved to Alert Level 3. The most notable change is the reopening of food pickup/delivery.
(EDIT) * May 14, we moved to Alert Level 2. Reopening of different organizations are staggered; school on Monday, bars a week later. For all intents and purposes, most businesses are open under a slightly loosened social distancing rules. Focus has moved to tracking.
(EDIT) * June 9, we moved to Alert Level 1. This allowed us to "go back to normal" within the borders, while the borders stay open only to returning NZ citizens and residents, and people with special dispensation, mostly business-related. 

Today would have been another great day for weeding, but I noticed I was slow-cleaning the kitchen, reorganizing the stocked-up food boxes, even though we've taken out little. I have it in my head I must be in the house at 1PM to watch the update, FOMO, even though on days we caught up at dinner time, we were not struck down by lightening.

I have been trying to revisit "Syrie", which consumed me before Corona, but find either I can't concentrate, or the initial idea has morphed beyond control and I don't recognize it as a continuation. The latter I don't mind at this stage, if it morphs it morphs, if not it'll return to whence it came, but I would like to record what I considered, tried, liked, or discarded, until early February, (was it? or late?) before I forget. And I'm having a hard time remembering.

I feel I've been kept on hold. I read about Corona, learned what we can do, changed the way we do a few things; tried to keep Ben home, which started a week later than we had hoped but it happened; we entered a nation-wide lockdown. Jacinda explained how Level 3 works, and the world is elated we can have non-essential mail order and takeaways, (so am I,) but she's had to repeat we don't know when we can get out of Level 4. And for us, little will change. It's been a dress rehearsal for Ben's retirement, with better finances.

I should be carrying on my normal life Plague or No Plague, but I started thinking about Anticipation/Participation/Appreciation. How excited I was when we learned we'd finally go into an official lockdown, and how comfortable it was for us, but then it became normal, almost anti-climactic, and now we're looking at exiting this so soon. We've been lucky, the Plague has not brought any substantial impact on our lives, or to Nelson as much as I can tell from the small window that is the Internet. Ergo, (though I might get hit by lightening to say this, but,) anti-climactic; hardly life-changing.  

Bacon and eggs, seaweed, tofu and sesame dressing salad, and borlotti with sumac for dinner. Ginger wine toddy instead of tea, because I'm so sick of healthy eating.

These days I'm washing hands the proper way between twice and four times a day. We don't go out, nobody or no foreign objects enter our house, so what's the use. But tomorrow we'll have our first veg delivery from a new guy including 10kg of something called peacherines; I can get ever so pleased by little things now. And I like this.

Day 23, April 17. One of us is slow and old and getting too-stupid-for-this-century, while the other is doing OK in most departments. In our normal lives we enjoy food shopping, reading labels on packages, comparing, and discussing. Online-order/delivery had not entered our life, especially after reading how hard it is to score a delivery slot unless you're ready to order at midnight when the supermarkets release time slots, (I didn't even know there were such things,) and how "priority" people have had to wait many days even if they can get it at all, never mind the oldies without Internet.

Jacinda started talking about Level 3 midweek, which isn't very different from Level 4 where we still are, but the nation started to feel cautiously buoyant. Wondering what we can do to support small local businesses while in Level 4, and make things easier for us if possible, I came across the many, many veg and/or fruit deliveries in Nelson. We've always had milk and eggs delivered and that resumed, so next in urgency was fresh veg. I visited the website of the first guy mentioned because he's just down the road and he's new. We ordered enough of the usual suspects for a free delivery. And then I read about their "peacherines" and had to place a second order, you know, just so I can have yet another excuse to stay in the kitchen.

I'm exhausted. I gardened not for a long time but a bit of sawing and butchering mayhem on a slippery slope. I also spoke with Kathryn on the driveway, 2 or more meters apart, for maybe an hour. Lovely. I gave her some peacherines, and she gave me a jar of her peaches. We had the peaches with yogurt and cinnamon before Ben's pumpkin soup for dinner.
Gardening/hacking was good, albeit the job unfinished. The rest of the evening, prostrated in the narrow strip between the rocking chairs, Ben and the coffee table, I thought I'd like to pick up a book I suspended weeks ago. That was a refreshing thought, even though as usual I almost let my laptop fall on my face chasing numbers and curves. But there is tonight.

Day 24, April 18. I don't know how you vegetarians do it. We've had milk, eggs, bacon and some days cheese, but we haven't had a nice chunk of meat or fish in days. I realize it's supposed to make us feel healthier and "lighter", but we have become weak at our psychic knees. I think some protein shopping is coming up tomorrow.

No 1PM update. I felt abandoned, while the country is celebrating, unduly, the prospect of moving to Level 3.

 

Day 25, April 19. Today was unusual; we were both exhausted, in unison, for no reason. I caught the 1PM update, in which I learned we'll hear from Jacinda at 4PM tomorrow if we are moving to Level 3. Chatted some more with Kathryn, whose son is going to weedwhack a steep slope under our apple trees for us, after the slope dries from the recent rain. Then we ventured into town: the PO box, (nothing), the usual bigger supermarket, (because Ben's more used to it,) but not finding several important items, to the one we like better. Then we came home and performed the ritual: I denuded veg packs and wiped down other boxes and packaging while Ben showered. He carried everything upstairs, washed the veg and put packages away while I showered. I did the laundry, and together we transferred all protein, (which comes in thinner plastic wrapping we don't like to sanitize,) into our own containers. And washed our hands again.

We rewarded ourselves with the first pack of potato chips in forever; it was delicious but was gone oh-so-soon. And we had steak for dinner, which pleased Ben very much. If we ration wisely we shouldn't have to go to the supermarket for nearly two weeks; we certainly paid as much.

More cooking duty the next few days. The oven-baked peacherines are growing on me. I am obsessed with food and food preparation, but I think it gives me focus.

But today, I also thought about weaving.

Day 26, April 20. We decided Ben overdid with meat/fish shopping yesterday. Today we froze some, he smoked a bunch, (while working,) and I made chicken curry, and slow-roasted more peacherines and concocting a chutney-esque version. This went on until shortly before the 4PM announcement.

We will be in Level 4 until the end of next Monday, then try out Level 3 for two weeks. Our lives won't change much because Ben will still work from home and the sort of things we can do, e.g. food shopping, won't change, but some people, like Volume, will be allowed to go to work as long as they can follow social distancing rules, contact-less service. We will be allowed to take our car and go a tiny bit further for exercises, though. Ben came home from work a little early and we had a bit of sake to... celebrate knowing where we stand for now.

We just caught her Facebook live which she does in the evenings every now and then, often after big announcements. She smiles a lot, but like any live chat, she looked serious trying to read questions.

As terrible as a global pandemic is, and so many places have it so much worse than in Nelson, New Zealand, Ben and I are convinced Jacinda has made it easy for us to behave well. Bless our Prime Minister.

I know other mainly English-speaking countries want Jacinda as their head of state, or envying New Zealand for having her at the helm. I can understand this, but I've been giving some serious thoughts to this, and her way of running a country in this global pandemic compared to others I read about. I'm not sure, however, if her ways will work elsewhere.

New Zealand has its own very wealthy lot, hate groups, and right-wing/religious lots, and some here have even adopted the litigious culture, and many have adopted the American Right Wing language since W Bush's days. Some comments towards her have been as despicable. But fundamentally New Zealanders are descent and most pragmatic, and because of the size, when push comes to shove, everybody tends to want to help each other. At least in electing Labour three years ago we did ourselves a great favour, not only for the Plague, but the eruption of a volcano and a mass shooting which also happened in her time. And the electoral system and redistricting must work well enough nobody is raising serious questions for now. (We had a census two years ago and I think we have new districts for this autumn's general election.)

[EDIT: New Zealand reviews its electorate every five years. It appears not directly related to census, as the last review was in 2019/20.]

Also, her language helps; not the overblown, not divisive, not catchy to please the media, but simple and straight-forward: "Be kind," "Team of Five Million", etc. Remember, this is the country where the two largest islands are called North Island and South Island. And then the idea we should behave as if we all have Corona. I think these comes form the fact she's a "normal" person, having grown up in a "normal" household, who otherwise lives a relatively normal life. Although I'd never underestimate the steely political astuteness that's another part of her, either.

I always think back to Jacinda bringing up the fact Clarke wore a Gisbourne charity shop dad sweater when they brought Neve home.

New Zealand is a nation, albeit small, so it's not all great, and certainly not "100% Pure". I don't agree with everything the government is doing, it's timing, scope, and I can't stand a couple of folks in the current front line, but it's a government, I trust these folks to be doing the best they can under the circumstances to protect as many as possible, and I have no problem abiding by their rules. (And a few more of our own just to be on the safe side.):-D

Day 27, April 21. After yesterday's massive food prep effort, mealtime requires assembling salads and heating up protein for the foreseeable future. When Ben started to get restless waiting for me to make the first move to get dinner ready, I was disproportionately agitated, shouting something like, "Do we have to eat again??" And then realized how wrong/bad/rude that was. Not to Ben, exactly, but as it is there have been millions/billions of people without enough food due to poverty/famine/war, but now there are more even in the First World due to corona-related loss of jobs and businesses. So, I won't complain. But I wouldn't mind eating less often.

In communicating with a client about her latest commission, I was overwhelmed by how little I remember of my recent past pre-Corona, how my life has become mired in this lot of news, not Brexit and Trump before it. I felt sad. And then I needed a nap.

Day 28, April 22. (Photo taken on Day 25.) Today I was thoroughly sick of envying friends who have Corona-cleaned their houses there were nowhere else to clean. So I started with downstairs this morning, the laundry, en suite and my work space. And then the stairway, and part of the hallway upstairs. As usual, I got less done than I had hoped, but it's not nothing. It is what it is. I'm also leaving a trail of unfinished projects, the patio, the agapanthus and miniature kowhai on the driveway, what else... I've been thinking a lot about work, about weaving. That's also not nothing. Tomorrow we're supposed to have rain, so I'll continue with cleaning the house, shall I?

Days of a Plague Day 15, April 9 - Day 21, April 15

Day 15, April 9. Sunset has been beautiful almost every night. It's facile to say the reduction in traffic/industry causes it, but I can't help remembering the weather pre-2000, an arbitrary year, but it's when I noticed life in New Zealand was changing so quickly towards the thing-centric society we thought we left behind. Also sunsets were sensational more often until a little after 2000. Then again, particles in the air makes lovely sunsets; someone said sunsets in the African savanna are anticlimactic because the air is clean and the sun just drops.

I got fed up not getting things done I changed into gardening clothes in the morning. I knew I'd miss Jacinda's 1PM update, but I was fed up by me, and since I didn't have a better idea, out I went to clean the patio. As has become the pattern, I got a fraction of what I'd hoped done, but still, it's more than nothing, and I'll finish the rest tomorrow.

Ben's cup/cheesecake tasted delicious afterwards.

Day 16, April 10. Start of Ben's Easter Holiday. I had an ultra slow start to the day. While I scrolled down the page looking at the latest numbers and the curves on graphs, I heard the warm sound of a handsaw, starting tentatively, (though this whoever not as tentative as I,) then steadily and fast, then slowing down before stopping. Usually. Round two started at top speed, continuous sans rhythm, I wasn't sure if it was a handsaw, but it finished in the familiar way. Building/fixing? Pruning?

We thought to tackle the top branches of the Pohutukawa for better sunset-viewing, but tidied closer to the ground far longer than we planned before Ben started on said branches. Ben stood on the stairway reaching out but we may have gotten one-third or one-half at best, more on the right side. We still may get better sunsets but probably not the last bit. Shall wait until tomorrow; I weeded underneath until it was too dark to see, while Ben cooked dinner; we can only assume tonight's was another fabulous show.

(Sunset, Day 15)

Day 17, April 11. (Photo taken on Day 18.) Ben had a second go, standing on the steps and chomping at the taller branches of Pohutukawa, as well as pruning many others around it, the reasons for which were not exactly clear to me, but hey, we were outside doing something, weren't we? The weather was sunny but cool/warm and at different times we counted four or five other families outside doing similar.

I, on the other hand, worked on taking as much of the lilac bush as possible, a near-annual event. It used to flower beautifully, then suddenly mildew took over. For almost a decade I dug up the smaller shoots and cut the larger branches to the ground in the autumn, hoping the new shoots will be healthy; they were at the start, but inevitably got covered in the same white stuff. Nothing around is has been affected, though. Phew.

This year I'm taking out as much as possible, which is a delicate job because it's at the top of a small bank and if I dig too wide the bank may crumble, but if I leave too much, or any, the cycle will continue. (I saw the same mildew this fall on my zucchini and nearly 30 cherry tomatoes, the latter lot yielding exactly zero fruits.)

I, on my third day of "pottering around" have had such awkward muscle pains that when I wanted to kneel/get up, I first had to resolve to do it, make a strategic plan, observe the surrounds, renew my resolve, voice my intentions loudly, and finally, do it. Half of it is plain aches caused by normally dormant muscles revolting, half age, but the third half is caused by an "old injury".

Ben and I used to assume when folks mentioned "old injury" they must have been elite athletes. Well, apparently not so. Mine comes from running in the rain in 2006 and slipping and falling backwards;  Ben's from way back in 2002 when he had got a cut in the arm in a car accident. We both sought adequate medical attention at the time, but felt, "Meh, the rest will heal naturally."

Not so! Mine came back in 2014 one Sunday evening when suddenly I couldn't stand up. I spent two and a half years being seen by a GP, physiotherapists, acupuncturists, a Bowen technique therapist, (who told me she couldn't fix it,) an osteopath who charged me mega$ to chat about his idealistic country living, maybe a couple more, before I gave up. Strange thing about my injury was, I was fine standing up and walking, but I could not stay seated, go up and down stairs, and sometimes the right hip suddenly gave out, and the throbbing kept me awake. Strangely it hasn't been as dire since I stopped going to medical professionals, but I suspect I walk differently now, different from how I used to, still different from the eight years I didn't pay attention to it. But there is no double it's put a giant damper on how I view my abilities, or limitations, as regards physical activities.

Ben most noticeably could not handle the vibration of the weed whacker after a while and stopped whacking the already-lamentably neglected patch under the apple trees.

Though we've always been avid great indoors types, we did go outside more often in the past, and working in our respective patches yesterday we reflected on that. I'm not sure if we "enjoy" gardening, but get a tremendous sense of accomplishment observing the aftermath of deforestation,  birds squawking above us like the seagulls in "Finding Nemo".

And then we look around and observe the vastness of our estate, and sulk a bit.

Day 18, April 12. Today was a real non-day. Rain was forecast for some time, but until mid-afternoon it was a cycle of sun and shower. I wanted to weed/decommission the remainder of the pots and finish cleaning the patio, a job I started on Thursday before I was deployed to the north/west quadrant. I planned to get my rain gear and go outside after I cleaned the kitchen, but by then the gray had set in.

The rest of the day was cloudy, moist or wet, and I honestly can't remember what I did. I really don't want to loose the gardening momentum now.

Thunderstorm and wind was forecast for tonight, but so far the worst we're getting is an occasional dose of film set rain.

Day 19, April 13, Ben's 57th. When asked if I should put my effort into cake or a meal today, Birthday Boy contemplatively replied, "cupcakes". Cupcakes!? Just when I thought I knew everything about this boy.

Another weird weather day: sun/wind/sun/wind/dark clouds/sun/dark clouds/wind, and rain. Restless. The sun was warm, the wind cold, winter is coming. Except today was all about waiting for cupcakes. Ben reworked the metal mesh for the coffee roaster; I cleaned the kitchen and lined up the ingredients; too cold/windy for bean roasting, Ben did something else; I did laundry; then we found a sunny spot on the carpet, and lay down and checked Facebook.

Finally we tackled another batch of cupcakes, really just spicy cakes made in cupcake molds, another never-to-be-repeated recipe, today with three double shots of espresso. Ben instructed, I assisted, the cakes came out moist, toffee-smelling, and nutmeggy. Yum.

I thought of running out to weed the pots, but hey, today's Ben's day; I was happy to go along with whatever he wanted to do, at his leisurely pace. And it was a totally slow leisurely day.

 

Day 20, April 14. Sunny, chilly and windy, we have the first snow on the hills. As well, fifth and last day of Easter Break, interesting how naturally we slipped into holiday mode; after leisurely perusal of the news/numbers/curves, fragmented discussions, and forgettable breakfasts, I've established a pattern of embarking on cleaning the kitchen somewhere mid-late mornings. Sorry today was the last such.

The temperature called for spicy slow cooking, so in spite of full intentions of weeding in the afternoon when the wind settled, of invitations by art institutions' children's education Youtube channels to show signs of life in the right hemisphere, I cooked standing up until such time that Ben sauntered into the kitchen asking what's for dinner. Results: bacon/onion/lentil thing V2, steamed rice, and unphotogenic but piquant onion chutney. Slow cooking does not always indicate the time required for the ingredients to, er, cook, I guess.

Yes, the simple onion, because I remembered we are not to hoard under the current regime and onions were about the only produce, (besides dried beans,) we have in abundance. But also harvested a couple of nice feijoa recipes for when our always-tardy fruits come a-dropping, and ideas for rehydrated dried fruits, which opens up a universe of possibilities beyond a chutney galley. Blessed are friends who cook.

Ben has a flu jab first thing tomorrow morn.

Day 21, April 15. One day is looking a lot like another, except the weather, and what we cook. I don't know if I expect something to happen, but still every day I feel like we're on hold.

With Week 3 finished, there have been talk of whether the lockdown will be over next week, and if so, what happens next. It shouldn't bother me either way, I just go back to my own isolated life.

I've tried to get my right-hemisphere fired up, but haven't succeeded yet. Tomorrow!

Days of a Plague Day 8, April 2 - Day 14, April 8

Day 8, April 2. I don't know where the days go, but I finished these three I started yesterday. Take that, Virus; one of a kind handwoven masks!

And now we have far more masks than we'll need in the next 20 years, but Ben wants a couple of more from a particular fabric. I'm regrettably delaying weeding for one more day.

I realized I was missing a form from the Japanese Pension office due sometime around now, so did a whole lot of looking things up, ranting, pacing, and soliciting trusted cousin and her husband's help. In the end, I rang the Pension folks in Japan and as usual they gave me great, decisive answers. Too bad they don't communicate over the net. Ben's right; Pension folks are superb because they have to deal with dotty old folks every day.

Also found out I have to keep filing tax returns even though I'm retired because I "ran a business at a loss" for... ever. I might look into filing myself and dislodge myself from the accountants, but, gee, that's another task that will involve a lot of ranting and pacing. Maybe just looking it up this year and trying it out next year.

Do I make my life unnecessarily complicated? Today was completely like non-lockdown, just a normal frustrating 21C day. But opera was lovely.

 

Day 9, April 3. Beautiful day. We had dinner with friends, and had a really lovely time. Although some of us, (me), talked too much, and some of us, (me), shared some evil and morbid thoughts, we also laughed a lot. I did little else today but cook, (and got a glimpse into the instragram mentality,) and chase more news, but it was still a good day.

In fact, I'm all laughed out, I can't think of anything else tonight. So from us to you, good night.

Day 10, April 4. Last night's dinner was delightful; yesterday was so saturated. But other than yesterday, one day is starting to look like any other. Which is pretty much my normal life, but with Ben home every day, I have to ask if today/tomorrow is work day. Several times a day.

It doesn't help that I'm still on sewing duty. I was so unmotivated I couldn't finish, so I'll give it one more day for closure.

I'm also unable to concentrate on anything, even washing dishes, without taking numerous "short" breaks to gaze at the screen. Which makes the days diluted and bland. Even two operas, one French play and many French readings in one day can't make up for a more proactive life. I didn't even finish my first cup of coffee.

Let tomorrow be less this normal and be the other normal.

Day 11, April 5. I was finally relieved of mask duties. The delay was my fault; the first Tardis masks were not high/tall (?) enough they covered either Ben's nose or chin but not both. Now he has two in the right size, plus two in black that look really sharp.

On our way to the supermarket I asked Ben to drive past Volume. It was there, charming, full of promises, unharmed, but books usually stacked attractively on a large table at the front were covered with a cloth, the table pulled towards the back. A wee wicker lamp emitted a small yellow light in the almost-sunset. The books held their breath.

I say my life hasn't changed, and at home this is true. Volume has changed, though; its esprit on hold unless or until... And if I were to be completely honest, that moment was the first I realized the magnitude of sacrifices required of this lockdown.

Day 12, April 6. When reading about lockdowns in other countries, before New Zealand started our own, I imagined our days of the Plague to be memorable, that scenes will be imprinted in saturated colors, I would be in a heightened state of awareness, and I would later recall stories in vivid detail.

It hasn't been like that. The days are murky. I try to keep abreast of the ever-changing rules; I watch two updates every day. I keep an eye on the numbers, though they lost meaning a while back. I'm pretty sure I'm doing this right, but I can't move on to doing normal things, like projects.

Of course, it is better this way, than something catastrophic happening, to us or the country, which in these circumstances is eminently possible.

I'm blathering. I can't bring myself to reread what I've written tonight. I hope I wake up tomorrow morning, ready to tackle something.

PS. We-are-not-there-yet/Reactionary/Bloody Bloomfield on Slate.com in a positive light. Let him be struck by lightening after this is over and when Jacinda doesn't need him daily. 

Day 13, April 7. In our 25 years in New Zealand, we bought hot cross buns fewer than five times. Funny how one develops a hankering as soon as there is a perception these are harder to get.

Today I blogged. I chose it over tidying the patio and weeding the pots because the weather looked iffy. Turns out I could have done the outside job just fine, but I chose to blog. Though it feels wrong by societal standards, it was just as important to me, I've been intending to do it, it was a hard job, and I chose it, and I'm glad. Tomorrow, something else.

And didn't that half a bun with butter taste good!

Day 14, April 8. End of Week 2, and according to the initial plan, halfway point of official lockdown. I was in the kitchen for an awfully long time, washing things. I didn't cook, only assembled another lasagna and a salad; finished a jar of Simple (Minded) Pickles, so why four here? I am exhausted.

The quiet is nice. Even though it's interrupted by the occasional vehicles near and far, (surprising how much of it there is,) power tools, lawn mowers, shouting, the usual stuff. But it's quiet more of the time than not. I may be hearing the birds more, but I could be imagining it, too.

I wonder if I'm the only person in the world who wouldn't mind the lockdown lasting a little longer, for me, for the planet. Wuhan reopened.

Days of a Plague Day 1, March 26 - Day 7, April 1

Day 1, March 26. Surprisingly a lot of traffic, and of course, power tools.

We've been ready for the official lockdown for a long time. We've cooked dinners to freeze, bought one extra of dry ingredients, (oh-so-much beans!), stocked up on loo paper and soap and disinfectants a little at a time, although some dinners and special naughty treats have disappeared before we began.

I also built a list of Plague projects, which is completely silly because lockdown is not changing my regular life. I can't go outside the house, into town, see friends, and some say only one person is allowed even in the car to go to the supermarket for one person to shop, 2m away, etc. Ben being home all day, with lunch, we are eating better, so we'll definitely need to devise some kind of an exercise regime.

Lockdown officially started at midnight last night. I was almost elated yesterday because I could finally stop worrying we weren't doing it soon enough. But today, there was no more preparation required, we have so much food, and suddenly I was completely exhausted and needed a nap.

Ben's sticking to his regular routine. Good for him.

I got some leftover cotton fabric so I can try making cloth masks. I might try making some out of my cotton weaving samples as well; somewhere in the stash room there are heaps more. Or continue trying to reorganize the yarn stashes. Or work on a simple woodcut or lino print. Or, you know, weed or weave.

I've seen a lot of recommendation for folks to keep a Plague diary. I'm not sure if/how I'm going to do this, but for now I'll try to post a pic a day on Facebook just so I have something I do daily. Which I don't have in my usual life. Interesting times.

Day 2, March 27. We had crazy weather today, blindingly sunny one minute, roof-caving-in rain shower the next. I wanted to make the masks but the kitchen, where I set up the sewing machine, was too dark even with all the lights, so I continued cleaning the closet/stash room. Long story; even longer process. Towards the evening the temperature dropped Ben wanted the first fire of the winter. It's still March so it's the earliest in the 23 years in this house; previous record was April 9, in 2009, which was still quite early.

Still an annoying amount of traffic noise including the airport, but I heard something in the late afternoon I hadn't heard in a long, long time; that overwhelming, thick, heavy, silence. It was almost scary the first time we "heard" it at a B&B somewhere in the country, Napier? all those years ago. Then every time we went into the country. But how long has it been since we last heard it?

Have you noticed, now that we're all locked down, we are connecting more with friends, and the connections are more deliberate? It's been nice, hasn't it, even though I'll probably be more or less a hermit still. I wish it wasn't a pandemic that unites us, and yet there is something... ummm... not bad?? "Good"?? in the world fighting the same thing together. Well, more or less together. If only we could do this about the environment. And less traumatic world events.

Day 3, March 28. Today my character was tested and I failed. I woke up knowing I have reached Covid reading saturation. I was determined to work on one of my projects. Or clean the house. Every lockdown achievement by friends almost depress me; they are getting so much done, their homes are getting tidier, cleaner, nicer, while the magnitude of my task in that department gets me down.

But I first did my usual round of Facebook checking, which takes longer these days, among other reasons there is a local lockdown-related group where I find information in the comment section. It started because as hard as the government tries, there are different ways to interpret the rules; one of the most robust has been how far one can go for the allowed daily exercise; if we can drive to where we will do the exercise; how many minutes or km we can drive; and how many can be in the car to go to such places. Members cite different government sources, trying to find the latest announcements, but in the end it's up to each person's interpretation. At times some become quite adamant, claiming other are, "trying to kill my family," for e.g. Apparently there have been more than a few older ladies who can be surprisingly abusive and expletive by reports from young mothers with littlies upon their return.

Which lead me to think of how police states and autocracy and similar come to power; how it's not only those at the top taking away rights of the masses, but segments enforcing their beliefs/interpretations on others. They may not be malicious, their interpretations not incorrect, but it becomes their creed, and when their adamance is louder, others, however numerous, sometimes cede. If not already in existence, (and in today's "daily exercise" discussion, there was,) there may emerge, just as boisterous, those at the opposite end of the interpretation spectrum, and there we have the 21C polarization.

This kind of division won't be sanctioned in New Zealand for now under Jacinda, but I couldn't help thinking she knows history, and it wasn't only her predilection that made her repeat, "Be kind". This situation will probably grow worse in the coming weeks before we regain sanity.

Instead of getting up to embark on some meaningful making, I wrote to friends, and watched more Covid how-to videos. How to sort grocery post-shopping vid was thoroughly depressing but friends say they do it, so I guess we must, too. I find myself frustrated/annoyed by countries/friends who are not in lockdown, even though New Zealand is a newbie.  

Meanwhile, Ben successfully installed the new loo tank upstairs, but had to take some parts off the downstairs one. One loo for the two of us until further notice. The weather was brilliant.

Day 4, March 29. Neighbour Kathryn left us dehydrated apples with a lovely note on our outside steps. (The jar was full but Ben and I had some with cereal in the morning, and I munched on some in the afternoon.) She emailed me to say she also baked bread today.

I had hoped to work on a project later, but first I had to empty the linen closet so Ben could go up to the roof cavity to leave rat poison. This is an almost-annual Easter thing at #44. Afterwards, as I put things back in, I wanted to cull the content, but found only four Christmas ornaments to give to charity. Hanging Christmas/lockdown lights might be fun, though.

That, and a bit of laundry was pretty much it for the day. I am wasting a good lockdown - the story of my life. Tomorrow, projects.

Day 5, March 30. I made three masks; they took forever and I'm "sew" bad at it, but shall try at least three more to see if I can improve. Also made coconut-macaroon-ish cookie-like "treat". Edible, delicious in fact, but wet and wrinkly and ugly. I must stop using the stick blender extension and use the magnificent whisk with egg whites; the blender can't achieve hard peak.

I feel anxious about going to the supermarket after reading all the rules and comments sections, though not sure which one of us will be delegated to go inside. To delay our shopping trip, we've been studying what we have on hand more carefully, rationing fresh ingredients, using and eating slightly less. This is good for our budget and weight; it's actually a good practice for retirement if we can keep it up. Or down.

Day 6, March 31. Today I rant. (FB keeps loosing my rant, so this is the short version.) I made three of these for Ben. I knew he would tell me he prefers masks with wire for a better fit. I knew this these last three days I worked on masks. But hey, Plague? Besides, it's Tardis? Besides, how the Holy Hellebores do you wash a mask with wire in it?

He hinted, even before we were out the door. You know, softly, with no malice. But he does this. He never wore one of my first presents, a light, reversible green jacket, because the inside was red. (He didn't wear girl colors back then.) He didn't wear the first thing I made him, a navy corduroy shirt with small wooden buttons, (not plastic pretending to be wood;) you wouldn't believe how hard it was to find them; he prefers shirts with yokes.

Don't get me wrong. Ben and I do "being cooped up together" well; at times we seek it. This is more to do with my relationship with my parents, where I knew I was going to be (completely unjustifiably more often than not, or for something infinitesimally trivial,) in trouble and I spent days and weeks dreading it. That, and Ben's optimism one day I might step up? Hasn't he learned I just suck at sewing?

The poor guy is exhausted from working longer hours than usual, and having a most strange trip to the supermarket. He fell asleep on the floor.

What a day. At once, like any normal day when we do our own things in different parts of the house, and yet... Plague.

Day 7, April 1. I made shrimp and lentil curry. Good thing I got in the habit of very slow cooking a while back; it adds to the normality of my life. I had planned for one last go making masks to finish what I've cut already, but that didn't happen. One hand: we have enough, we don't go out, and I'm not getting better at sewing one bit; other hand: these will be nicer, making them keep me off the screen, and even if the lockdown lasts for months, I won't have to do this again. Theoretically. Oh, and Third hand: project idea: wearable "art" masks.

Lockdown is starting to feel normal. It was bound to be, because it's no different from all the days Ben worked from home; it just goes on indefinitely. And not a bad thing, his office here gets ventilated, and the huge work screen heats up the room instantly. For a while I worried we were going to explode from eating better cooking all the time, but neither of us are hungry much so two meals a day may become the norm. Not a bad thing.

Now We Talk about a Plague - Lead Up to Lockdown

I hope you and yours are well, in whatever state of social/physical distancing/isolation you are.

I read recommendations to keep a diary during these unsettling times. Although I agreed, I wanted something not in text; drawing? fabric? an on-going warp? I dithered because I know how terrible I am at "something every day" approach. Then we found ourselves in a national lockdown with two and a half days prior notice. So text it was.

* * * * *

The Lead Up 
I had a cough in December/January, something that's been going on intermittently since May-ish of 2018. Since Karl had sold his medical practice while I was in Japan, I was terribly annoyed but went in to see a doctor anyway, hoping to get rid of the cough once and for all. I was prescribed gazillion medications, including steroids. The cough improved as I uncharacteristically obeyed the regimen, but I developped shakes in my shoulders and arms. Preferring not to revisit the doctor in particular, and the practice in general, I stuck it out. Because of the shakes I hesitated to weave beyond sampling, but I tried on February 12, (the pink-wefted start at the bottom,) and felt so weak, I kid you not, I crumbled onto the floor in a fetal position! (I crack up even writing those words, but I did!) 

So instead, I attempted to summarize the history of my thinking on Syrie and clarify where I was at. I reread all gazillion posts on the subject, cringe!, started a new post, found it gnarly because the idea mutated over the years, it was impossible to write one orderly coherent post without explaining every little change and detour. I tried different approaches, an interesting exercise in reminding me when/what I changed, learned, decided/discarded, but found no resolution. And my cough came back.

Also at the start of February, I started to pay attention to Corona; it was still called just Corona, and was only in "one place somewhere in China". I ignored the bird flu, swine flu, SARS, learned about MERS only in relation to Corona, and know the name H1N1 only because Ben's initials are HN. (It's the official name for one of the preceding.) At first I thought, oh, another one; I hope it doesn't come to Nelson. Kiwis are inexhaustibly well-travelled, (whenever there is a disaster anywhere in the world, there is a Kiwi who can provide on-the-ground story to our media,) and Nelson is home to disproportionately many. I only started paying attention because some of the first patients/deceased were 60, 61 and 62 years old. Then there was the constant mention of "comorbidity" and diabetes. Gradually Corona took over Syrie.

I read, watched vids and payed attention, while slowly implementing, forcing, changes to how we did things around here. Washing hands and coughing into our elbows were easy, but not touching our faces, I still can't manage. Ben hated having a shower immediately after coming home, but it was at the tail end of summer, still warm, and he got used to it in a week. Disinfecting all surfaces and devices at work with smelly disinfectants at least once a day, he wasn't crazy about and probably embarrassed, but he got used to that as well. By then we were both coughing occasionally.

I read somewhere that worldwide those of us usually very anxious were doing very well because for once there was something real to be anxious about, and we were performing well being practical. Then the first case in New Zealand was reported on February 28.

The problem of Ben's office arose. He has lovely colleagues, but the office is grossly unhealthy. In a department of few than a dozen, one or two are always out sick during the winter months, which had annoyed me for many years. The department being IT, there are many equipment generating heat, with air conditioning which does its job, so nobody thinks of ventilation. The air is stuffy, moist and smelly whenever I visit. There are also too many staff crammed in a relatively small space in Ben's half. The condition would have been similar to the cruise ship stuck in my home town, Yokohama. I started nagging Ben about working from home, for which he's well-equipped already.

But, oh, what a wonderful thing, this Internet. Not only can I find a lot of things about this now-pandemic, but so much free contents, opera!!, available for a time. Even though I was coughing badly, sometimes picturing me coughing up blood as I visited a doctor, telling the other patients, "Not Corona, mine is a wet cough." OK, slight exaggeration but I wasn't well.

Taken March 15, Panic buying had started in parts of the country, but in Nelson, a few more gaps than usual but mostly as per usual.

Ben gradually came around and intended to work from home the week of Monday, March 16, but suddenly meetings sprouted everywhere to discuss the CEO's sudden announcement, (without consultation with IT,) about better remote access to allow all staff to work from home. And though the school, not just IT, is used to meetings via Skype, all of a sudden Ben had to be present at all of his meetings. Still he declared he would work from home the week of Monday, March 23.

On Saturday, March 21, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern had a rare public announcement, explaining a four-level national Covid-19 alert system. Two tested positive in Nelson, and dinner at friends was cancelled, (although we had declined because of our coughs.) We went to pick up work equipment, took a detour to the supermarket, (we'd been stocking up a little at a time since mid-February,) and finally set up Ben's home office.

What follows, for the next few/several posts, (and hopefully not interminable,) is largely based on my diary, (which at times have been crammed bullet points,) and Facebook posts.

Day -2, March 23
First day of Ben working from home. He picked up equipment on Saturday and set up workstation so all ready. And with Skype meetings coming up, he had a shower and dressed normally. Admirable. Then the Polytech, [his work place,] announced over 65s and "sick" staff should work from home, so it is now all "official". All I have to do is stop nagging and start obsessively controlling his/our environment.

Then came Jacinda's announcement, shortly after lunch, and it's now real. Code 3 for 48 hours, [actually it was a day and a half,] lockdown for four weeks. About time. I'm relieved, but the food/supply we thought we had plenty/too much of on Saturday started to look a little lacking. Oh, well, we'll go after the official lockdown starts.

We need rules, though. I won't bother Ben while he is "working", and I must say I did well today, but Ben must also clarify if he's having a break or stopped working for the day. I forgive him for coming out to listen to Jacinda, but sometimes he wanders. [He sometimes walks around the campus to clear his head, which I encourage. I forgot this.] Also agreed breakfast and lunch as usual, i.e. we're on our own. Dinner, discuss and take turns. Also, the big bad monitor of his is enough heating for the office. Wonder if Ben now knows why I complain about how sick his office is.

Tired, but very relieved. But also... Ben being home all the time is going to change my days. Got in touch with Barbara/Duane, Kathryn/Tyler, and the troop. Relieved we had the fire place done early. "Talking" to all so many more friends, and they have lots of time now.

Jacinda said to be kind. Is there any other country where that's mentioned? 

Day -1, March 24
Feel very relaxed and relieved, especially that Jacinda is at the helm. Of course I think we should have started closing the country when the cruise ship was stuck in Yokohama, and lockdown a fortnight earlier, (we seem to be in the last? Lot already among developped countries,) but kudos to making it four weeks rather than two. Kudos for doing it. Amazed the world is still so concerned about the economy. Personal jobs/income, understandable, but "the economy"!! Let's come out of this alive first, eh. 

[I feel smug about having sorted] the firewood and the fire place. Making chicken curry. Got rat poison at the last minute.

Day 0. March 25
Oh, we have one more day of prepping. Panic buying all over; not sure about Nelson. We have more than enough for a while. Ben bored and pacing, (it's only Wednesday!) but also fixed the outside tap, and in our final trip to the Mega Store 2.5 hours before closing, we got a new loo tank. I don't know why we don't do these things when they break, but at least we are on our way. I am relieved we're finally going into lockdown, even though I would have done it earlier. I could punch Mr "We Are Not There Yet", [Dr Ashley Bloomfield, chief executive of the New Zealand Ministry of Health and Director-General of Health,] but since Jacinda relies on him, I'll wait.

Here we go, with my bubble mate. He waka eke noa. We're in this together.

Perspectives

I don't know what brought this on, but this morning I suddenly remembered something. After several years of going to figure/life drawing class, I got so used to including shading to make the drawings look 3D. One day I saw a friend, Pastor Janice, do something else, not color planes but something flat and "modern" and I wanted to emulate, but the shading had become so automatic I couldn't help myself. We both laughed the minute I put in the first bit of shading. You could spend hours and days "perfecting" the shading if the object stays under the same light, and this has its own rewards. But on that day I wanted to draw in the style of, oh, German and UK lino cut in the early 20C. "Graphic".

"Western" writings call Japanese art "flat", that we don't bother with perspective, but that's not strictly true. You've seen the prints; Mt Fuji is usually far away in the background. For years I looked read in English and Japanese to learn the difference but couldn't find anything that made sense. A few years ago I happened upon an article or a vid; I regret not noting at least where I saw it because  I'm going to paraphrase the living daylight out of this, but here goes:

Instead of a gradual/continuous receding/advancing seen in Western art, helped by extensive use of shading/shadows, Japanese see perspective more in stages. And there were some more words explaining this, but the explanation made me visualize a school play where there are clusters of perhaps flowers pots in the foreground, maybe shrubs in the mid-distance, and trees painted on boards and propped up or even painted on the backdrop, at the back. And this made so much sense to me, but I don't know if it immediately means we see the world differently.

Which reminds me of something else. In college I took a course on Japanese Civilization because I was exhausted by the Hollywood portrayal of Geisha/Kamikaze/camera-carrying-eyeglass-wearing tourists en masse, and curious how more learned persons thought. It turned out the prof was dodgy, he was a China specialist, but China/Japan, same thing, right? Pffft. I didn't learn anything but one thing stuck with me.

We were made to look at a tree in full autumnal Minnesota glory from our window, and were to note what we noticed. I saw a leaf at the top, then more leaves around it, and gradually saw what was below, which was the rest of the tree, down to the trunks and then the ground. And apparently I got it right. Phew. Prof said whereas Westerner saw the whole fist and then saw details, (is this even true?) Japanese saw details first and then stepped back to see the whole. I also recall there was a student from Iran or Iraq and now I'm dying to know what he saw first.

I'm also dying to know what you see first, what you think of this. I wonder if it makes a difference in how we think, live, make? I wonder if my perspectives influence (??) my making.

It's not even 10AM yet, so I'm looking forward to the day ahead this Thursday where I have some reading and writing on the list. I hope you have a good one.

Full Disclosure

I don't set out to make wonky pieces, you know; I aim for perpendicular and parallel every time I sit at the loom. I was so relieved after the blanket was finished so I used as many colors as I had to express joy for this scarf/shawl, and some repeats have two colors, but those sections didn't present the problem. The Summer of Weeding, an interval of three to four weeks, is what changed the beat so the last three repeats are elongated and less meaty.

I've been reading, thinking and making notes about future projects with glee. I'm astounded how well I get in my own way of... proceeding? Progressing? Some days, when I want to blame someone else, it feels as if in the absence of a real person holding me back, I have to step in and do that myself. Other days, I roll my eyes so hard it pushes against my brain hurts. 

I found in my diary a year ago yesterday, "No tool noise!"

Right. Next.

So, This Happened

Kiwis love power tools any time but this summer has been an exceptionally robust season of building/rebuilding/refurbishing/demolishing on C Street and surrounds, resulting in power tools of all manners chirping in stereo for the last four (?) months, which finally got to me. The last three weeks or so my shoulders and knees started shaking, especially badly in the mornings. (Full disclosure: we, too, used our tiny water blastser to wash a decade-plus's worth of build up on our concrete patio around Christmas.)

I tried Podcasts and Youtube at full volume, closed all windows, doors and all but one set of curtains, (thank goodness it's been a cool summer,) and draped thick fabric everywhere to absorb the noise, but the shaking wouldn't stop. I also went downstairs and let Telemann serenade me but my legs were shaking so badly I had to crawl off the bench and lie behind the loom a while.

I was getting on my nerves. How "frail" can I be? I tried depression-beating techniques to no avail. While depression, you could say, live in my head but the noise outside it, and they were relentless. (To be sure, I wasn't depressed.) I spent a few half days in bed in utter darkness reading stuff online, and got around to good articles I had bookmarked all summer, so it wasn't a complete loss. I knew in my head at least some of these jobs will be finished "soon", and neighbours will be pleased, and that's a good thing for C Street, but did I mention it was relentless?  I didn't go outside to check on my pots on the patio for ten days and missed the first of the late corn flower opening I had waited for since Ben's summer break.

Anyhoo, exasperated by my inertness, I tried various little things and reorganizing my To Do piles got me out of the funk this time. (To be frank it's been a little weird because my emotions have been switched off and at times I feel like I'm in autodrive.) I started fringing, which I could manage with the twister, and I finished the two hellebore cotton pieces.

The orange-yellow weft piece is bright, and easier to "appreciate", appreciate being in quotes because it's not the kind of colors that sells well, but you can see the details and color interplay immediately, the colors are harmonious and uplifting. That you can see more details in evening/sideways light is a bonus.

The pink-purple piece is a little different. In the first instance I'm not sure if I like the overall color combination, not exactly in harmony, the weft colors don't meld with but overwhelm the warp colors, which is astonishing because there are some strong oranges in the warp. Overall, the gold stripe in the middle disrupts, and the reds in one side of the warp and oranges on the other aren't especially discernible. But this piece looks so interesting and surprises in the evening light. So the original plan to weave in all kinds of purples would have worked.

When I made the red-orange warp, (the gold was for something else I inserted here to add interest,) I deliberately kept the hues of the warp colors to a very limited neighbourhood on the color wheel so I could experiment with harmony, (as in the yellow-orange wefts,) and complementary, (purples!), but the last few years I've been so intrigued by reds, pinks and oranges together I changed my mind. Humble pie. (I learned the origin of that expression from a Tony Robinson doco. :-D) 

Anyway, and you don't hear this here very often, these are nice and I like them. Nice big size, lovely weigh/drape/hand. I will be weaving more hellebores, or another design, in cottons for sure. But, also, I made them, so technique is rough, but I'm not dwelling on that. I repeat this not to convince you but me; I have become more and more aware of how much time/energy/head space I have left to make things in my life, and I want to keep moving.

I'm still astonished and mystified by the Year (Or 18 Months?) I Didn't Weave triggered by a bad project. It was astonishing because I noticed only after a while; I had no explanation, felt so dispassionate, not particularly disappointed, and utterly honest. I can still recall the calmness I felt the whole time concentrating on mixed media drawing and knitting. I wasn't worried if I gave up weaving altogether, and remember Mom finding me almost callous when I said that, because I was supposed to be besotted by weaving. And looking back, a degree of detachment, with which I used to hold my weaving long time ago, is a good thing for me right now.

Make no mistake, I am Japanese, so I don't buy into bad technique being "design features". It's not in my DNA, as they say, but this is more like forgiving myself. I'm focusing elsewhere - more on "design" whatever I mean when I use that word.

I don't know what I was thinking in terms of color in the warp-end fabric, though, other than perhaps trying to use up what was on the pirns and bobbins. I mean, look at this. Ugh. What a waste of good warp. Maybe a bag lining?? I'll fold it and see if it looks good in smaller sections. Or something...

 

We had several humid and a couple of rainy days so I haven't washed the cashmere piece, but I am pleased with the warp-end fabric; this I wished was longer so I could make a small vest; maybe just the back or the front bodices of one?

And then there's the "generous medium-size" cowl, which is not a cone but a cylinder. I was going by pics on Pinterest and thought it would be nice if it covered from shoulder to head. It's growing and one more repeat will cover my big head, but now I don't know how big to make it - a couple of more pattern repeats??? It looks to me in bad proportion, but worse, it's morphing into a tree trunk costume Mama made for Dear Child in a school play where said Child plays Tree #7 with no lines.

Before the shaking got so bad, I was weaving this. It's working OK. The colors are fabulous if I say so myself; more like I'm finally starting to understand how to play with colors? 

Ooops, we had a few days' reprieve but the power tools are back again. But I do better in the afternoons, so washing or weaving. We also picked 24kg of Roma tomatoes on the weekend and I slow-roasted 8kg in the pasta-sauce style yesterday; I want do the rest in oven-dried style if I can remember what I did last year, which was a much hotter summer. Low temp and oven on forever, perhaps.

Two things before I go: look up an art critic named Jerry Saltz on Youtube; he talks about artists having to show up and do the work. "Build and they will come," is one of his favorite quotes, it appears. He also says artists, (=makers) have to tell ourselves we are geniuses sometimes.

And there's this I found yesterday: Diedrick Brackens' tapestries defy tapestry weave conventions, but they make such an impression on me. And they are big so I bet it's awe-inspiring to see in person.

Headology Dust

By which I mean, abbreviated, "therapeutic", for-the-record snapshots of my life of the last wee while, stuff I jot so I don't forget how I spent my life.

On the whole we've been having a cool, comfortable summer in Nelson, although windy and dry most public reserves are now closed. We worked in the garden a bit, (well, a heck of a lot for us,) during Ben's summer holiday, so much so parts of our place are taking on the appearance of normal neglect as opposed to... forsaken chaos. I do wonder, though, we host a lot of bugs and even some birds in our weeds and after pulling them out, trimming and pruning "proper" plants, the ground is just dust. Convolvulus come through 50cm of mulching, (we usually dig it up,) so it's hard to know what's good in the long run on a macro scale.

The irony at Chez B&M is in dry years I am conscientious about watering pots with shower and dish water, so them babies are looking good. After years of combating bad bugs with home-made remedies and icky stick plastic things, I started fighting them with their natural predators; eggs come stuck to a tape you can hang from branches. This should be an interesting science experiment, although the first bugs I bought were bees smaller than sesame seeds so I don't know if I'll see anything. 

Post elephant blanket, I haven't done anything with textiles as top priority. I've continued to sample the grownup blanket as you've seen; ruminated on how to approach "Syrie" so the process is as exciting to me as the finished product satisfying, (ongoing;) started/restarted one knitting project nearly three dozen times until I finally settled on a design, size, etc.

At first I thought this would be a gigantic cowl, but looking at Pinterest, it's more a generous medium-size. The yarn is merino of unknown origin from Mom's stash. One of the difficulties I had was this is proper "fat" knitting yarn, and because I'm used to weaving yarns I couldn't get my head around the scale. It is relaxing to sit in the rocking chair in the evenings knitting; I can justify having silly telly on.  

One thing that's sure to come back to bite me is the craft shop carrying DMC needlepoint yarns closed around Christmas. I knew this about a month ahead and intended to plan at least one more project and stock up, but when the time came I had no idea, so I didn't. I don't have enough left to do much of anything. I'm not giving up needlepoint as it's enjoyable, but I don't mind sticking to more tube- and rectangle-knitting for a while.

I haven't drawn, collaged, or printed, but again, not giving up. I have a Sketchbook Project due August, and I've had this seed of an idea, something in a concertina form, but I have to "see" it better before I can take action.

Then came the new year resolution. I love numbers like 2020 and desperately searched for a plan, a project, a goal, something, for the year or the decade, nothing grand but dodable so I can look back and see what I accumulated.

Nothing. In desperation, I decided to read two books a month. Simple enough, yes? Within a day, that morphed into "books or Shakespearean plays". Then I allowed cookbooks if I read them cover to cover, which I do. Then I thought finally taking on Vincent's letters - and how would that fit numerically into the 2 per month, or is it a different project? And should I be taking notes?

It's mid-Feb and I haven't finished one book; I started Romeo and Juliet before a local production but didn't finish; and I started Vincent's letters, dedicated a notebook, but haven't restarted. So, yeah, the resolution is going great. What's nice is I've finally become that person who doesn't feel defeated just because I've mucked up at the start. If I pick up any of these plans, I'll have done something, and that's better than nothing.

Just so you don't think my life has been devoid of "culture", I have been watching vids and listening to audiobooks and podcasts, almost anything relating to Shakespeare/Mark Rylance/Ben Crystal, history/archeology especially those by Tony Robinson, or revisiting Terry Pratchett stories. I know, lot of UK stuff, but, ahem, they make them in English. I'm also seeking out Cezanne's writing this summer. None of these have come to bear any fruits in a creative way, but then I'm a slow learner. We're approaching the 20 year mark since I took my only color study course, and finally I'm starting to see unexpected things happen on the loom, so stick around and be prepared to be floored by the time I'm... 81!

* * * * *

Speaking of not being defeated, I said I'm going to concentrate on the things I do well/enjoy, not the things I should do better but can't: technique.  Laura Fry followed immediately with this, (not claiming causality), she's also talked about unwillingness to learn/change in subsequent posts, and while I wholeheartedly agree with her, and the convent school/Japanese/my-parents'-eldest part of me feel guilty, I also don't want to stay tangled up in other people's expectations and desires, which I've done most of my life. So I'm sticking to my comment to her: "That's me! It's the yarn, the loom, the short body! And I'm thinking of declaring statute of limitation on my improving techniques, and using "self-taught" as an excuse." It's not a personal feud with Laura, but a reminder to myself I need to grow up, and "statute of limitation" sounds apt. Also true, the less I worry about my technique, the tidier my weaving appears. Or that's the story I'm sticking with.

* * * * *   

I struggle with pricing, and went to Stella and Thomas to unload. It was the day I handed over the elephant blanket and went to see some collages they recommended. They told me pricing "art" involves everything that happened in the artist's life up to the point a piece was created, because every experience is a build up to the realization of that piece. Or something to that effect. I thought of how I make my stuff, and fumed once again about the prejudice against "craft". The price of my blanket that took months to make vs two A4-size collages, albeit nicely done and framed, for the same price. Wouldn't you know, this got me nowhere. Besides, I and only I am responsible for my pricing.

* * * * * 

And there you have it. I don't know if you remember, but watches and clocks used to need winding regularly. These posts give me similar satisfaction of regular resetting/maintenance done in time, small stuff, but virtuous nevertheless.

Not a Blanket

We're back to normal transmission, and you know what that means; I'm sampling a lot and trying to figure out what to do next. What I can tell you is I'm not going to weave an adult couch blanket on this warp, but will sample lots, (because this 2/30 count merino is still new to me and I'd like to learn more if I am to make it more or less my default wool warp,) and hope to weave two or three scarves. So, with no particular logical construct, I've been toying with these ideas. 

A and B were threaded at whim, setts between 36 and 54EPI in pairs and triples on the Kilck, woven with all kinds of merino and cashmere wefts. C, D, and E were woven on the big loom, C in 36EPI, D and E in 48EPI. The colors are little strange in this pic possibly because I took it in early evening light; we still have sunlight until 8.30-ish, 9-ish at the moment.

I don't like the warp color distribution, the way/places/proportion I split the "pointed" threading to include three colors in each repeat, moving from a-b-c-b-a to b-c-d-c-b, etc, the main reason I decided not to weave the blanket. At the moment I am thinking of a more gradated look for that project. The client prefers a tighter, symmetrical design, so none of the swirly stuff as in A and B, either.   

Even with the same sett and yarns, samples woven on Klick always washes up softer than from the big loom, or the big loom yields sturdier cloth. In A and B, 48EPI looked nicer and felt "fuller", but I first sleyed at 36EPI for C for this reason. C's texture is OK; nowhere as airy as I expect, but nice depending on the weft, and preferable because this is not a small piece near one's face but a large couch piece.

Between 36EPI and 48EPI there's quite a difference in the visual saturation/concentration of warp colors, i.e. sleyed at 36EPI the colors looks perfunctorily diluted. On the other hand, I like the size of the motifs, visible from across the room, and to that end, 36EPI is good. In fact if I were to weave at 48EPI, I will need four panels rather than three. Interestingly, even with the same yarn, 48EPI produces cloth with almost a wiry feel because of the closeness of the warps; I hesitate to say the merino doesn't have enough room to full, but for now I can't think of other reasons. Neither did it produce the heft I expected.

One easy remedy is to edit the tie up, reduce interlacement and use longer floats. I tried modifying the draft for a couple of days but the design looked so diluted I didn't save any. I can also use a skinnier weft, which will require much longer to weave, but it is a possibility and I will probably prefer the appearance. (Another surprising thing about this draft is, B-side in the cloth is unappealing, but I haven't spent much time reviewing this aspect yet.)  

I have nicer yarns in whites, naturals and grays, and I don't like weaving with black, so I automatically sampled with them at first, but then the client suggested black. I don't have enough of my best merinos, but I found an airy probably-lamb's wool in a perfect size with dull sheen, which contrast well with the surprisingly shiny merino warp. With the black weft, I can't see the patterns while I weave, but the depth the colors create is much more striking in comparison to using lighter color wefts, and sheen contrast makes the design "pop". So much so I can't even look at parts of the samples I wove with white or gray wefts, even though they feel fluffier. They now seem so pedestrian. 

But even with good merino or cashmere wefts, the most surprising aspect of these samples has been their underperformance in the texture. 36EPI is the same as in the elephant blanket and that piece has quite short floats, so this puzzles me, and I have an idea. More below.

The blanket warp will be in these colors, in a more gradated progression, in a similar but probably modified draft, with black probably-lamb's wool in the weft. Unless... I go with a slightly less airy, slightly shinier, dark saturated navy blue wool weft; the value to black is so close it's hard to tell where one sample ends and the next starts, but in this context, if I nitpick, I sense the addition of the blue hue creates better harmony as opposed to black showing contrast. It's really hard to see even in real life and since the client is a big softness fan, I'll probably go with the black, but it's worth mulling over.

Moving on to weft candidates for scarves from this warp and mainly Sample E:

Same merino but used single, (remember the warp ends are doubled up so they move in pairs,) in hot pink, and saturated yellow green. The pic doesn't do justice but I'm smitten by both. The pink hue meld right into the blues and greens and create a deeply satisfying new "color" that increases my heart rate, and I'm definitely weaving a piece with this weft.

I'm not a green person but I have been mesmerized by what yellow greens do. In real life the weft is a dark, saturated yellow green, so unlike the strong yellow it appears here, and the last of a discontinued color. I also have the new color which is lighter, more yellow, but still not as yellow as in the pic. I might audition the new color; I might weave a piece with one of these colors as well.

Same merino, from the bottom, pewter, (a loud mid-gray?) orange, and dark berry. This pewter is one of the examples of how a totally different hue, (or lack thereof,) kills the richness of the warp and why I will avoid naturals and whites in the weft in this series even if they full better. I had to sample pewter because this produces the nearest color to the cushion cover from the client's living room where the blanket goes, but it's not happening with these scarves. The dark berry at the top is OK, it's like the dark navy wool above; it creates harmony but not excitement.

The orange, (and it's not a sad, not "rust", as seen here,) in this context creates a lovely mild-mannered cloth, making us pay attention to every one of the warp color, and unifys without overpowering, as opposed to the pink making the colors pop. I think this one is a must as well.

Giving space, the skinny merino does full, so I'll make better texture by editing the tie up here and there.

The colors look faded here, but from the bottom, merino dark berry single you saw above, another sampling of the dark navy unknown wool you saw above, and then on top, I doubled the warp merino, the hot pink and a cherry red. Both the warp and the weft  a pair of yarns act as one. It gives a meatiness to the cloth, i.e. better texture, but I don't  know if I can't decide if the design is diluted or emboldened, because of the thickness of the weft. I could do interesting things with colors this way, though.

This is the texture "conundrum". A and B are the with-scale 76/2 merino, A in 36EPI, B in 48EPI, C is the pewter you already saw. A is sufficiently meaty but not as fluffy as I expected, B is almost choking and wiry; while C feels i has enough space to spread around and fill in the gap, and as far as textures go, C is the most satisfying. Like the 76/2, cashmere did not full to its potential; without more experimentation I can't tell you the exact best formula, especially because specs here aren't as different from the elephant blanket. Interesting, eh.

Also, do you agree with me that bringing "unrelated" (or absence of) hues in the weft kills the warp? 

Some sampling from Mom's stash, and here I'm showing you the less exciting B-side. From bottom: blue-to-white variegated 100% mohair from France, (variegation not suited to this warp;) lovely navy blue silk/wool mix, (texture, coarse;) and a creamy yellow kid mohair/lambs wool/silk mix from Germany, which surprised me. I wanted to show you the B-side because unlike the merinos and cashmere underperformed, this yarn pry-opened every space it can find and fulled nicely all around, creating a lovely thick fabric. Like the white wefts, it doesn't show off the warp colors in the way hot pink and orange do, but it's not bad in a more conventional way. The texture of the cloth more than makes up for it, so it will remain a contender, especially if I get sick of slow weaving with the skinnier weft. I also included the pewter portion to show you how boring the B-side is, and how the design shows up differently. 

In a more general sense, here are some of my problems/focus/directions:
* I'm focusing on merino at the moment and for that, texture is paramount. (Also, the blanket client is as much a softness nut as Mom and the blanket is where this warp started.) If I were to focus on colors more, I could easily play with 2/20 cottons as well. Now, what do I want to do with this scarf warp? It's been a dry summer here and even though I use oils and moisturizers religiously, my skin is not sensitive enough to detect fine differences in textures at the moment. I keep changing my decisions for best texture, but I also want to start weaving.
* If I like the look skinny wefts crate, which I do, I could also dig into my silk box. Texture then is less important, and I could play with sheen, although I probably have far fewer hues.
* Although I still have loads, I am approaching a point where I have far more of Mom's wools and silks than my own, and hers is... let's just say an eclectic collection in size, color, fiber, origin, whatever-else-you-can-think-of. I can only hope there is enough of each to sample, (there usually isn't), which makes it all the more important I get to know and start to feel comfortable with this merino warp.
* I'm really enjoying experimenting with colors. At the same time, I want to weave this very draft with only one pale baby blue and white, kind of reminiscent of ceramics.