Jackrabbit. This critter is one I would like to see more often. We call him “Jack,” or if there are two of them together, they are known in our family as “Jack and Jackylina.” The jackrabbit makes me smile because of his tall ears and mischievous-looking face. The nice thing is he doesn’t cause any mischief, like some of the other critters around here. He will sit completely still, without a twitch. I’m sure he wants you will think he’s a rock, and pass on by without noticing him. But if you get a little too close, he hops up and quickly dashes away.
When we have all twelve napkins at the dining room table for a family gathering, how will we decide who gets Jack the Jackrabbit? This one could be everyone’s favorite.
After only four hours at the drawloom I have a porcupine! That’s an hour a day, four days in a row. I enjoy the design-making process. It is rewarding to work out the details on the computer. The next reward is to see the printed version ready to take to the drawloom. When I first see the feet of the critter woven on the loom, I do a happy dance. And now that the porcupine is moving on around the breast beam, this feeling of accomplishment is the greatest reward. Nine more critter napkins to go, with many more rewards. Jackrabbit is next!
Look for daily rewards. What rewards are you seeing lately?
Gray Fox is showing his stride. That bushy tail is impressive. On the drawloom I get to determine exactly where that tail will swish. Where the tail crosses into the side border, I switch from pulling one pattern shaftdraw handle to pulling individual single unitdraw cords. That’s where the complexity of the combination drawloom really shines. It gives me extraordinary flexibility for weaving the designs I have in mind.
In some ways I think of the drawloom as a tool of simplicity. Despite the countless cords and shafts, every piece has a simple purpose. Each single unit draw cord, for example, simply lifts a single unit of 6 threads. That’s all it does. Complexity is a matter of perspective.
May you enjoy the simple things you find in complexity.
My husband and I coined the word “lapkin” when our children were young. Lap + napkin = lapkin. We wanted our children to learn the courtesy of placing a napkin on their lap when they were seated for a meal. “Lapkin check!” was a fun game we made of it. The armadillo on the drawloom is a lapkin, if I ever saw one. This thirsty cloth will soak up any drips and spills, smeary hands, or messy mouths that come in contact with it.
Armadillo is the first of a dozen critters that will parade across this loom. Armadillo napkin is the only one of its kind. I’m certain of that. (Fox is up next.)
Lapkins give us a discreet way to stay tidy at the table. Armadillo, however, doesn’t intend to stay discreet. I’m pretty certain of that, too.