Spinning At Last!

For my 30th birthday (almost two years ago - yikes!) my parents generously fulfilled my birthday wish by giving me a beautiful spinning wheel.  It's a Kromski Minstrel in Mahogany stain.  A beautiful, compact, double treadle wheel, it fits perfectly in our small cabin.  However, I had never learned to use it, until this weekend.

The wheel did come with an instructional video.  Both Lee and I watched the video and tried to make it work.  It didn't.  I couldn't get the flyer to take in the yarn at all.  It was frustrating, and frankly, I really didn't understand how the whole thing was supposed to make yarn.  It didn't make sense.   So the wheel sat as decoration in our home back in NH, occasionally being treadled for fun.

When we moved to Fairbanks, I found a store here called A Weaver's Yarn that offers spinning lessons.  But I never felt we could afford it.  So I survived the winter content with knitting.  A few days ago, however, while out running errands, I turned down the back road where A Weaver's Yarn is located, on a whim, and ended up signing up for my private lesson.  That lesson was yesterday.

After two hours, I now understand how the wheel works.  Well, at least enough to make it take up the yarn.  My yarn isn't pretty yet.  But I'm getting there.  My assignment is to practice for 15-20 minutes each day until my next lesson, where I will learn to ply my singles that I create with my 15-20 minutes of daily practice.



I'm super excited to have a new pastime for the cold winter months.  I'll be busy with knitting and spinning all winter long!  I think Lee might be a little worried...

Cranberry Pickin'

It's that time of year in Fairbanks when the cranberries are ready for picking.  Last year we did no berry picking - we didn't know where to find them.  I was afraid that this year would be the same, with the plants in our backyard only producing a few handfuls.  But then Lee and I went for a walk on labor day.  I can't tell you where.  Real Alaskans don't reveal their prime picking spots (hence not knowing where to go picking).  But we went for a walk on a hill near town.  It was a place I'd never been.  As we walked down the trail, the woods to our left opened up to reveal a grove over grown with lowbush cranberries.  It was a sight to behold!  But alas, we were without containers, so had to return another day.

That day came on Thursday.  The week had gotten away from us and I was worried the berries would all be gone.  Surely someone else must know about this place.   At 7:30 at night, we got in the car, berry container in hand (old milk jug with the top cut wide) and returned to our secret spot.

Now, the sun has begun setting earlier and earlier, so we had about an hour and a half of usable daylight.  I hurried down the trail, not waiting for Lee as he took pictures of the sun setting on the golden birch trees.  Seriously, man!  We have berries to pick!  As I was walking (jogging) down the trail, I heard rustling in the trees next to me.  Some one was in the trees picking cranberries!  Crap!  I thought.  There really won't be any  left.  But she wasn't in our grove, so I kept on jogging.

I found our grove and lo and behold, it was still chockerblock full of cranberries.  We picked until it was too difficult to see in the dim light.


Aren't they sweet?  Juicy too!  The knees on my jeans were all red with berry juice from kneeling.



We left with a gallon of cranberries picked only in an hour!  Pretty impressive, I'd say.  I'll be going back again this weekend in hopes we can get more.

In the meantime, we have a gallon of cranberries frozen in the freezer.



And a new book on Alaskan wild berries and how to cook them.