The 2021 cloth is cut from the loom. Let’s unroll the year to see how it looks. I see cherished moments. Treasured memories. New friendships. Family relationships enjoyed. Mistakes made. A few heartbreaks. Sorrow and rejoicing are intertwined at times. Besides the finished fabric, there are a few odd remnants worth keeping in my heart. And, like most thrums, there are some things I am not going to hold on to.
Three weaving highlights: 1. Eye of the Beholder—tapestry of my mom. The Lord used the making and finishing of this woven portrait to reiterate His nearness when I needed it most. 2. Siblings, tapestry from the previous year, earned the HGA (Handweavers Guild of America) Award at the Contemporary Handweavers of Texas Conference last summer. 3. The yellow huckaback three-tiered skirt, Tiers of Joy, ought to earn an achievement award. However, the real reward is a genuine sense of accomplishment through perseverance.
Know when to let go. 2022 is a new warp on the loom. Some things from last year don’t belong. We have a fresh start with no room for complaints. Threads on the loom are rich with hope, ready for the intersection of thoughtful wonder and exploration. Look for results of tangible beauty.
Please enjoy looking back at the weaving journey of 2021 with me. I’m grateful to have you here, and look forward to more good times together!
Would you believe me if I told you I had the exact length of fabric needed to cut out the three tiers for this skirt, with not a millimeter to spare? It’s true. Despite a profusion of fitting conundrums, detail studies, do-overs, ripping outs, mind-bending problem solving, and to-the-thread close calls, I never considered giving up. That’s not true. I did think of throwing in the towel. But, thankfully, my cheerleader husband won’t let me take that option.
I have a deeper respect now for my friends whose sweet spot is garment design and construction. This Tiers of Joy experience has reminded me that handweaving is my sweet spot. It’s the thing I do that makes me say, “I was made for this.” When I’m at the loom I am soaring. What is your sweet spot? Let the breath of God make you soar.
Happily, I have a memorable handwoven skirt to wear on my date with Steve to the Symphony of the Hills Christmas concert next week.
Here’s a short slideshow video of this thread-to-garment story:
I am giving thanks for you! I’m glad you and I get to walk through this weaving (and sewing) journey together.
The skirt in my mind is picture perfect in style and fit. If I could snap my fingers and make the skirt appear, I would. Instead, I find my way to a workable sewing pattern by trial and error—agonizing over every small step. The sewing part doesn’t scare me. But I’m in over my head in the garment design arena.
A not-as-simple layered tiered skirt replaces my original idea of a simple three-tiered skirt. The new design has a fitted yoke at the top of the skirt (and a zipper) instead of a super-simple elastic gathered waist. All this, so the distinctive borders of each tier will flutter freely, and not be trapped in seams. The trouble is worth it. I can see the finished skirt in my mind’s eye. It is phenomenal! The fabric is handwoven, made for a purpose. This is a skirt worth waiting for.
You were skillfully made for a purpose. Through many trials and errors, lessons in success and failure, we discover why we are here. God created you for this very time. Trust him to guide you, especially through agonizing moments. By his grace, he forms us into the phenomenal masterpiece that he has always had in mind.
This is the moment Miss Fit and I have been waiting for! We have come to the beginning of the end of the real tiered skirt. Or, maybe I should say it’s the end of the beginning, since weaving is just the beginning of this skirt. My next step is to finish the fabric: find and repair errors, wash, dry, press. And then, on to construction: detail studies, measure, cut, gather, sew seams. And lastly, of course, I will find an occasion to wear the summery subtly-patterned huckaback skirt, even if summer has already slipped into hiding until next year.
It takes only four blocks to weave these lovely summer “flowers.” This five-shafthuckaback uses one tabbytreadle and four pattern treadles. My right foot operates the tabby treadle and my left foot manages the pattern treadles. One treadle remains on the floor (not tied up) between the tabby and pattern treadles, putting a helpful space between right foot and left foot.
Each of the four pattern treadles produces its own block. It couldn’t be simpler. It’s always right foot, left foot. Yet, I can weave the wrong sequence, even while I’m patting myself on the back. For that reason, I stop and examine my work after every few picks. I want to make sure my weaving aligns with the treadling sequence on the draft.
Have you noticed how easy it is to judge someone else’s motives? And how hard it is to notice our own? I can fool myself. The Lord knows us better than we know ourselves. It’s his mercy that shows us our impure motives. His grace shows us how to walk in his ways. His love keeps us coming back to align our hearts with his.