Dressing the loom with two sets of lease sticks keeps me on my toes. It means I am thinking carefully as I transfer lease sticks from in front of the reed to behind the reed. And, after beaming the warp(s), it means I am counting carefully as I put ends into threading groups of 48 threads each—32 ends of 20/2 cotton, and 16 ends of 22/2 cottolin.
I group ends together before threading. Then, when threading, if there is a discrepancy in the number of ends, it alerts me to find a threading error. Counting out these delicate unbleached cotton threads is challenge enough. Having the layer of cream cottolin threads underneath presents additional complexity. With all these ends, this part of the process is tedious. Still, it’s worth it if it lessens my chance of making threading errors with these 1,472 ends.
I am spreading this warp (twowarps, actually) at the worktable. One warp is 22/2 cottolin, with a narrow selvedge border of 16/2 cotton. The other warp is 20/2 cotton. This intriguing double-width project is in the Nr.3 – 2021 issue of Väv Magazine—Winnie’s Linen-Cotton Crinkly Tablecloth, by Winnie Poulsen, p.52. Despite some intrepidation, I am jumping in!
Coordinating two warps onto a single tie-on bar is tricky business. The last time I did the two-warp maneuver at the loom I nearly lost a lease crossand my sanity. The advantage of pre-sleying these warps at the table is that everything is secure. Nothing is teetering. At the worktable I can clearly see what to do for each step. Within minutes, I’m hopeful that this adventure will indeed be worth it. (Pre-sleying a warp on the table is expertly explained in Learning to Warp Your Loom, by Joanne Hall, pgs.19-20.)
Spreading a warp (or two) is a lot like spreading hope. We come to the Lord Jesus weary, having tried hard to make things work on our own. He welcomes us with open arms and reveals the time-tested way of trusting him, one step at a time. Now, like threads being sleyed across the dents of a reed, threads of hope spread throughout our being. The threads are secured. Come weary; receive rest; spread hope.
It’s not a good feeling when you discover that you did not tie the lease cross on one of the warpbouts. When you wind a warp, it’s the cross that keeps the ends in proper order. I carefully tie both sides of the cross before removing the bout from the warping reel. This time, though, I inadvertently tied only part of the cross, which is, essentially, not tying the cross at all.
I make my best guess to recreate the thread order, inserting the lease sticks little by little. And as I beam the warp there are several twists that threaten the whole process, getting hung up at the reed. But I coax the warp through at a snail’s pace, not forcing anything.
Eventually, the warp is successfully beamed. What a relief!
Things that matter become misaligned when we or those around us mess up. Some of the ensuing twists and conflicts spell disaster. It’s not a good feeling. We start to imagine that we’re alone and forgotten. You are not forgotten. Baby Jesus of the real Christmas story grew to manhood for a clear purpose. He came in pursuit of you and me, gently calling, never forcing, ever loving us, to put our threads back in order again through his cross. What a relief!
When you have two sets of lease sticks, though, it is a serious challenge to get the two colors to alternate correctly as you move the end loops to a separate stick. The ends on the stick are then transferred to the back tie-on bar. I did breathe a sigh of relief when everything was finally lined up and in order.
And I’m reminded again how beautiful a beamed warp is. It’s worth the challenges.
That beautifully ordered wool on the back tie-on bar, now hidden from view, is an essential element for quality handwoven cloth. Kindness is that way. It’s a core trait deep in one’s character that is revealed in interactions with others. Kindness makes you beautiful. It’s not something you try to be. It’s something we wear. It’s our inner being dressed in the character of Christ.
It occurs to me that I am unnecessarily doing something the hard way. Repeatedly. For every new project, I pull out my tape measure to find the right set of lease sticks. The tape measure also helps me select the temple needed for the current weaving width. No more! I do like my tape measure, but why am I measuring these things every time? Why not measure them once and label them?
Measure the lease sticks and write the length in centimeters and in inches on one stick of each pair, in pencil.
Use a wood burner to trace the pencil markings. (My husband Steve does this part for me.)
Thread a cord through one end of each pair of lease sticks, to keep pairs together. Hang the lease stick pairs with the measurements clearly visible.
Look up the temple sizes on a website that sells them, and write the size range in centimeters and in inches on each temple, in pencil.
Use a wood burner to trace the pencil markings. (Steve, again.)
Store the temples in a manner in which the marked measurements are easily seen.
Now I have permanent at-a-glance measurements for each of these frequently-used tools!