Colors of the days

I'll lead with the pretty pictures and I can see now that a few of these need tinkering, but I'll stay my hand because these are the concentrates that I will work with, so a little bit goes a long way - even with my predilection for waste. I need to find a good sized disposable syringe, the turkey baster is too big.

While waiting for these to come up to room temp, I replaced the agitator dogs in the washing machine- the final phase of restoring it to useful life before having to knuckle under and buy a replacement. No washer = no dye season. Never mind clean clothes. I work from home. Clothes?

I followed this funny video and found it to be much like playing with Lego. Years ago I tore down and rebuilt the carburetor in our lawn mower and MANY years ago, swapped out the engine and tranny in my '63 Ford Fairlane. Most satisfying endeavors. The washing machine thing was not nearly as hard on the fingernails, but Kids, it's Nasty in there!  Building computers from scratch is a joke by comparison. Hands-on feels good. What's next?  And where the hell did I put last years seeds????

I missed Ostara...

...so I'm celebrating today while everyone else is Eastering.

I should have taken this outside for better exposure, buts it's drizzling and I've lost the tent cover over the dye deck to rot and old age.

The fun part was trying to read the labels on the powdered dyes. 90% have faded away which doesn't speak well to the way I stored them.

Only time will tell if this batch of dye stock will be valid.

I stuck to the twelve. I'm particularly happy with what looks to be a very neutral black. No more cheesy plastic squeeze bottles. I invested in a dozen 16oz. mason jars which rack up nicely on the bottom shelf of the fridge.

No more fooling with this stuff today, although I'm tempted. I have a writing project with a deadline. These will keep until we get some sunshine. And I'm happy with this salvage job:

the provenance of twine

One of the prototype cusspots.

This one was made from 12 strand cotton string that came from the first post office that my mother worked at in Goldens Bridge. They used to tie bundles of mail and magazines with this stuff. In a pinch, they could have used in a hanging. When the old PO was closed, they were going to throw four giant cones of this in the trash. I was twelve and I knew it was wrong. This was the very last of it.

This is about the size of a baseball and was covered car grime. A soak in laundry detergent, no bleach and it looks like the day I made it and will go back to catching coins in the console of his car.

All this whiteness has me itching to stoke up the dye deck this weekend. I feel the need for color.

sweetness

There's nothing sweeter than unexpected company on a Sunday morning.

(My camera needs its eyes checked)

the Sordid Tale continues...

"The Error of Her Ways"  (cont.)

Picking everything out wasn't as bad as I anticipated.  Music helped. The base cloth is a sturdy, service weight damask, not too vintage, so it can take a little punishment without falling apart.

But..web research is telling me I am well and truly screwed for using an indelible (hello!) metallic gold ballpoint ink to so arrogantly lay out the lettering. Such chutzpah!

The solution I'm too familiar with is laying in a needle-turned patch of the same base material with the tiniest, most invisible, made by blind Bavarian nuns, stitching and then, getting the damn words right, bless you Beatles.

Relax baby, it's gonna be OK.