The Wool Food Mama

Rolling out Easter eggs

I've had such a good time embroidering up some eggs this past week....

Eat your peas and carrots!

Bunnies and pink bubbles....

And in blue too!

These (and more) are available in my shop,  Wool Food.

 

100%

I have to admit, I'm typically a bit of a purist.  I like, no love, things that are authentic, pure and original.  So much so, that I'd rather pass completely, if I can't have (for whatever reason) the real thing.

For example, if I decide to wear ugly sheep skin boots, I want to wear the real thing. Not some knock off from the discount big box store.  Maybe that makes me a snob.  Ok, it probably does make me a snob.  BUT, I also feel compelled to defend my snobbery. 

Someone, somewhere, designed those ugly boots, probably wore them around for 2 years while their friends and family pointed and laughed.  Then, suddenly, the right person fell in love with those ugly boots too and told their friends and suddenly a great idea was born.  I respect that.  I respect that a lot.

I feel the same way about processes.  Like art, or say, gardening. I want the whole experience. Amending soil, starting seedlings, tending, troubleshooting, growing.  Starting in the middle dulls the lustre for me.

So needless to say, way, way back in the day when I started making animals and toys from felt, it was a huge leap for me to use a blended wool felt.  But I'll tell you what. I tried every last 100% wool felt I could get my hands on and it all fell short.  Too lumpy, too thick, to weak.  I even considered trying to make my own, but knew I'd yield the same results.  Lumpy, thick and weak.  Ha, that's kind of describes my gravy every Thanksgiving too.

Anyway, i resigned that a wool blend was good enough. And I resigned to that for years.  Last week I discovered that the industry has finally caught up and is now offering a 100% merino wool felt that is craft weight. 

Finally.

It's delicious.  It really is.  It feels good, smells good, looks good and sews up like a dream!

Here are the first 100% wool ponies.

Pure.

What a beautiful word.

Easter tree stump?

Well, of course.

When the tree-stump came out of the first few feltings, I realized that there was one thin wall.  Most of the trunk was plenty thick, except that one side.  Hmmm.

So I dyed it up and sat with it for awhile. 

I do that often.  Let the piece sit on the corner of my desk and eventually, we decide to work something out. 

I decided to cut out the wall all together and make a large picture window into the front yard. To compensate and balance the new remodeling, I added a roof which resembles a handle. 

Yep, twisted vines always work. Especially with plenty of fuzzy greenery.

Since the new picture window will also double as teh entry way, the new place needed some stepping stones.

Add a few tenants or a few eggs and we're good to go. 

Wool eggs

Since we're in the middle of winter storm number...number....um....I've lost count of the 12 inch snow falls this year.

Anyway, since we are in the middle of another 12 inch blizzard, I decided to be prepared this weekend.

I already had milk, bread and two eggs so I picked up a short stack of movies.

I haven't watched Sherlock Holmes in some time and thought he and I could share some time this weekend while I sewed.

For some reason my DVD player decided to puke out. Bummer. So there was no clever wit from the lovely Robert Downey.

But there was sewing.....

I'm happy to report I sewed up an entire basket of eggs and got some button eggs finished up too.

Spring may be delayed in Minnesota, but the Easter bunny is hard at it. Lol.

Wool Egg Roll 2011

Almost every year, I put together a wool egg co-op for my lovely group members over at yahoo.  A great bunch of people that have been with me from the word go.  I think I've done 5 wool egg co-ops and missed doing a full co-op just one year.

I started out undecided this year with all of the CPSIA government regulation drama on toy making.  Then, of course, there were the pressures of homeschooling, that new farm mixed up with my yearly winter blues.

That was before this palette came together....

I'm telling you, dozens of colors and pounds of wool went through the dye pot before these made their subtle debut. 

THEN, the rainbows came out of the wet-bath I was all "game on!" hahaha. We're doing an egg roll this year! Bring on the co-op....

 

C'mon spring.  You need to get here one way or another. Sooner than later, please.

If you'd like in on the egg co-op this year, stop over to my yahoo group.  Details will be posted Friday morning.   I don't advertise my egg co-ops (or yahoo group) very often.  Once  a year, maybe.  It's all supported by long standing members and word of mouth.  If you *think* you might want in, join now, you may not get another reminder. *wink*nudge*

love, Katie

 

"Love" Letters

These aren't your traditional love letters, they're the only way to communicate with those that have lovely things. Like chicken coops, eggs, raw milk butter and sugar cured bacon.

Sugar cured bacon.

Can you imagine? Neither can I.

When I was down to the Amish area this last time we were chatting up pig butchering and curing meat naturally came up.

I really thought it'd be a salt process and was surprised by the sugar curing. In turn, Levi and Mary seemed genuinely surprised that I was interested.

"If you have extra, I'd like some," I told them.

That was months ago. I'd long forgotten about it when my "love" letter arrived announcing extra sugar bacon.

It's snowing today and I'm suppose to go pick up MY bacon. Obviously, I can't call to reschedule and I hope they're seeing through their window what I'm seeing through mine.

But I'll send them a letter today anyway, letting them know that I won't make it. But I'll try again next week. If, for nothing else, to sit and hand write a letter, that will go in an envelope, that needs a genuine stamp.

I love letters.

Almost as much as I love bacon.

New year. New light box.

Hello poor little neglected blog. I sure have missed you....

The holidays have come and gone and I'm already day dreaming of gardens and seed catalogs.

I got this super cool light box from Brian and had to try it out right away. I forgot my camera so I had to use my phone.

I'm amazed by the quality. I had no idea that it would make that big of a difference. I'm kind of kicking myself for not investing in one sooner.

Now, if I can find an etsy app for photo loading, I'll be set!  And if Typepad would ever update their app, I could blog on the run.  Then I'd be double set!

Misfit Island

Last weekend was rough, for sewing. Sometimes, what's worked forever falls apart and just won't come together.  Most folks would stop and start again another day. I knew better, but pushed forward and ended up filling the island with lovable, but not quite first rate toys.

Santa? Can you help?  Surely if you can home a Charlie-in-the-box, you can re-home these....

A rooster without enough stuffing.

A donkey with misplaced ears.

A woodpecker that falls on his face.

I'm sitting here chuckling because I imagine my own farm may end up the same, room for the not-quite-perfect. 

So, there's a new catagory in the shop now;  Misfit Island Sales. 

 

The making of an Amish built chicken coop

I wanted, so desperately, to add a little wooden coop to the toy line-up. However, not having wood-crafting skills left me on the unfamiliar side of seeking out custom work.  But, I had a plan and a picture in my head of what I wanted, so I set about finding a craftsman willing to take on the job. 

Sound easy enough? I thought so too. But that was before I'd met an Amish woodworker. 

It was such and adventure and I'd love to take you along.  Because everyone should meet an Amish wood worker at least once in their life.

You'll want to grab a cuppa because this will get wordy.  I wanted to embellish this story with pictures of farmsteads, wood shops and hands at work, but photos and cameras are about as welcome on an Amish homestead as a sharp stick in the eye.  So, I'll be putting my best story telling skills to work.

The vision; A simple pine chicken coop, scaled to fit my hand-sewn chickens.

The Stage; Southern Minnesota, where the hills roll gently and horses share the roads with Deere. John Deere.

Last summer, after getting handed my ass on my first day of work as an intern at the raw milk dairy farm, my farmer, Craig, took pity on me for my second day of work.  Or maybe it was actually Vicki (the farm's first lady) that took pity on me. All I remember is her yelling "don't forget to get the eggs and butter!" just before she disappeared into the house.  Craig cackled out  "Ya might want to bring your wallet for this one" as he headed for the truck.

Ever obedient, I grabbed my purse, jumped in the truck and road shotgun while Craig tore up the gravel roads on the skirts of tiny towns with names like Mabel, Canton and Harmony.  We were in search of eggs and hand-churned butter. 

We stopped at half a dozen places and every plae looked the same;  Gravel drive, mailbox and a modest white sign with black lettering that read "open." 

That simple word "open" meant it was an Amish Farmstead and they had a public shop where the treasures were either home-grown or hand-made; butter, eggs, leather workings, wood crafts, hand-sewn quilts and  furniture. furniture.

Those furnishings. Hand turned, precision cuts, mitered, and routered to perfection. Perfection  without electricity.  The hook was set and I was envisioning miniature chicken coops before the day was done.

Several weeks later, with a rough sketch in hand, I went back to that furniture maker's home.  He looked at my drawing and said he doesn't make bird houses.  I tried not to be insulted.  Not that he wouldn't take on the work, but because he thought I wanted a bird house. 

He was kind enough to point me down the road to another white sign that may be more inclined to do the work.

That's where I met Reuben.  He was reluctant.  He told me he was busy and he wasn't sure that he could find the time to build a birdhouse for me.  Again, with the birdhouse!  Before he had a chance to completely turn me down, I told him that I didn't want just one, I'd want 10.  Still scratching his beard and shaking his head, I told him I'd be paying generously for the pattern drafting of the birdhouse (good grief, they had me calling them bird-houses now) because that's where the bulk of the time would be spent.

For the first time we made real eye-contact.  There was now a foundation of understanding.  We both knew the precious time needed to design something new.  Large or small,  simple or involved, time is valuable. invaluable.

"Ok," he said.

Whew. Progress.

I tried not to press.  I mean here I was, in my little red jetta, still wearing flip flops and completely unversed in the cultural rules of the Amish-English business relationships.  But I did ask how much time he'd need to draft up a coop for a preview.

"A month?" I offered.

"No."

"Two weeks?" I split.

Suddenly I was standing with Bob Parker on the Price as Right; Too high, too low. would I overbid and lose the showcase showdown?

*silence*

*more silence*

"Hmm, that might be too soon," he muttered.

"Three weeks?" Where else was there to go?

"Ok." he said nodding approvingly. 

We marked the calendar and I was off.  He went back into his shop and I headed to my car, which was now blocked in by a horse drawn wagon.  I did a 21 point back up and squeezed out of the drive without spooking any horses or going in to ask someone to move their....wagon.

Twenty one days later, I returned.

'Is it ready?" I hesitantly asked.You can sort of tell that odd smile that says 'oh yeah, I forgot all about you.' and Rueben had that smile.

"No."

"How much more time would you like?"

"Well, I should really get this done this week."

"Should I come back in 7 days?"

This is where we went through every day of the week and I learned exactly why my project wasn't finished.  There were better and more fun things to do. Like livestock auctions and farmer's markets.  I couldn't or wouldn't blame him, they did sound far more appealing.

We agreed that I'd return a week later and I did.

It was worth the wait.

I gasped. I really did.

Here's the thing.  Besides the roof line and the wood choice, it was nothing like I had envisioned. Nothing. It was 4 times the size I had in my head. It was more barn-like than coop-like.  The wood choice was thicker than I imagined and the feet weren't what I imagined either.

But I loved it.  Instantly.  It was more beautiful by his hands than in my head and that is exactly what art is all about. 

I asked if he was up for more?  yes. maybe. Well, there are some boys that he'd turn the project over to, but he had a solid pattern and it would be done. 

When? 

15 minutes and at least a dozen glances at the calendar later and he decided November 1st would be ok.

I went back several days after that and found he wasn't home.  Not to be discouraged, I'd stop again in a week or so.  You see, he's a good 40 minutes away, there's no phone and I forgot to get his address, even though I'd left mine.  So I couldn't mail him a note.  All of that is delightfully ok, I love the drive.

Two days later and I recieved a letter from a young man named Menno.  His correspondance advised me that he'd been given the project from Reuben, that the project was complete, he needed more of that waxy stuff and  directions to his home.

I promptly mailed more beeswax polish and a note letting him know that I'd be there in about a week. 

Two days later I rcv'd post back that he'd be at a wedding out of state, 10 days would be better.

Menno lives at his wife's family compound.  They have a small cabin on the fringe of the homestead and when Menno and his wife, Mary, opened their home to me, to retrieve the bird houses (yes, that's what we were still calling them) I had no where to step, except directly on that beautifully handsewn rug. But I dropped my shoes like hot potatoes and she said "no no no, please, you don't have to take them off."

Oh yes, I do! And I hope I didn't break any rules by doing so, or gushing over sweet 3 month old Moses balancing on her hip,  or by standing near that wood stove radiating pure heaven.  

I also met Danny, Mary's curious younger brother who was wearing sopping wet gloves when he shook my hand, and toting his handmade bow and branch.

I learned that Menno married into a family of leather workers and wood working was his desired profession.  He pointed towards his wood shop to tell me that was where he'd made the coops and I'm still not sure if that was an invitation to see his workshop or just a declaration.

So here they are...all six of them...the earliest work of a future master craftsman.

Every single one is unique. No two are exactly alike.  

These were a learning curve for Menno. Practice on his precision cuts....

A blemish here, deviation from the pattern there....

and some finer cuts than even his mentor had accomplished on the original.

This young man has a real future and enthusiasm for wood working. He asked me for the recipe for "that waxy stuff" and I promised to send it along and then I asked if he'd be interested in more work.  It was a resounding "yes."

I'm honored to be a part of his tender beginnings and hope that you will be too.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh the zen...

Last night, while trying to figure out how to make Mistletoe leaves, I discovered a whole new level of relaxation, meditation even.  Not that I really know what meditation feels like.  I'm not accomplished at that level of self awareness. 

But if I did know, I'd think this was pretty darn close.  Much like peeling an apple with a sharp edge and keeping the peel in just one piece.  This....

This cutting of 4 and 5 branches from a single circle, without allowing the scissors to leave the edge of the felt, leaving only a single, apple peel, scrap is pure meditation for me. 

I sat and cut, and cut, and then cut some more. I made little leaflettes until I was out of green felt. 

So, um, be ready to see plenty of mistletoe balls this holiday season.