Here’s an update on what Kat C has been working on. She’s one of the generous spinners who contacted me a few months ago offering to spin some yarn suitable for finer stockings.

During our first email exchange we considered different breeds of sheep. Here’s what Kat said:

I work a lot with Shetlands, due to the range of colors, and they are correct for any time period, being a primitive breed. The Cotswold tends to be a hairy yarn, but I have seen a woodcut of stocking knitters shearing the surface of the final product, so I would be willing to posit that they surface sheared the same as the cappers did. Romney is nice; I just washed one out and have it drying. I have a gray one, roved, some place in my stash. Cheviot would be period-correct, as well, although I just mixed what I had with a load of Scottish Blackface to make tweed.

You’ll remember from last night that Romney is what Carol H is working with, combing and spinning to make a worsted yarn. We’re all working with tiny scraps of information; there is not a great deal of detail on early 17th century knitted stockings. We keep referring to the “Gunnister” stockings, or gloves, or man. Gunnister man, or the Gunnister find, is a body of a man preserved in a peat bank, found in 1951 outside of Gunnister, Shetland. The wool garments he was wearing when he died sometime after 1689 (based on coins in his pocket) were very well preserved; whatever of linen or cotton he may have had was long gone. The find was described in great detail in an article in the Proceedings of the Society for Antiquaries of Scotland, 1951-52. This is part of the description of his stockings: “The woollen yarn is heavy, spun S, 2 ply. It is dark brown in colour, a mixture of various shades of brown fibres, including some black. The spinning and knitting are very even.” So that’s what Kat was aiming for. Carol H and some others are aiming for the same stitches per inch as the Gunnister stocking but in a variety of sorts and preparations of wool. Joan Thirsk’s research supports having several different qualities of knitted stocking during the early 17th century. Many were available ready-made, and cheap enough to make it worth while even for ordinary people to buy them rather than knit their own.

“Spun S” refers to the direction of twist. If you’re familiar with cables in knitting, you know they can twist to the right or to the left. So can rope, and yarn, and thread. “S” and “Z” are the terms spinners use to describe the twist direction. “2 ply” means two strands are twisted together, usually in the direction opposite to the original twist. So you might spin S and ply Z. You can ply two or more strands together. If you ply 3, you have 3 ply yarn, or thread, or whatever. Forgive me the explanation; if you know all this already you’ll find it overly simplistic, and if you don’t it probably doesn’t really explain what’s going on. You can do an internet search for more information tonight, and I can also do some bibliography blogs on spinning books.

Not very long after those first emails, Kat wrote again:

After 5 tries, I got the right 7.5 stitch per inch gauge on a size 0 needle which is a typical sock/stocking size. Small, but typical. Without being able to feel the hand of the originals, the actual weight is a supposition based on what is known. I had a very nice dark brown Shetland fleece that is working out perfectly, two strands S spun and double plied Z.

I did a two day spinning demonstration at a local site last weekend (this was written in late April) and made you several single strand skeins of gray Shetland. It is 7.5 per inch on a size 0, so could be used for lighter weight stockings. I will be spinning at the NJ State History Fair this Saturday. Once I get out from under the demonstrations, I will pack up the swatches, samples, and skeins that are finished and send them off to you. It will take another week or so to spin and ply enough yardage of the 2-ply brown.

I think this is enough for tonight. I’ll share some pictures of that box full of treats I got from Kat a couple of weeks ago. And more historical sources, primary and secondary. Looks like we’re only scratching the stocking surface.

Aside from, and happening simultaneously with, all the jacket progress, we’ve had lots of knitting and spinning progress happening. I’m going to take a few days and try to update that aspect of our work.

I had several generous responses when I asked if anyone would be interested in spinning some yarn for a finer stocking than we’re currently knitting.

These photos are from Carol H (from Indigo Hound), who not only offered to spin but also to comb – prepare the fibers for spinning – some wool. Not to get too technical, especially since lots of other people online can and have explained it all better than I, but combing is a way of preparing fiber for spinning that when combined with a particular spinning technique can create a smooth durable yarn, one sort of yarn that’s quite suitable for stockings.

The whole process is really a lot of work, unless it is your favorite thing to do in which case it is an excuse to have lots of fun. This is one of Carol’s favorite things to do, as she keeps assuring me when I ask if this project isn’t too much work?

These are the first two photos Carol sent. As you can see they’re of wool from Rita’s Romney (breed of sheep) ram, before and after washing. Romney fleece is considered a “long wool” (there’s no way to avoid some of the technical details here, sorry) and the long fibers (long compared to other breeds) will comb and spin into a lovely, lustrous worsted yarn.

I need to make a list of all the stockings and gloves we’ve received since my last list; there are many. In the coming days I’ll also be introducing you to other spinners and knitters soldiering away at the task of developing a more historically accurate stocking for Plimoth Plantation, including Kat C of the amazing box of samples and Aimee from Maine who is working on a pattern for knitting the yarn.

I missed today, the last day of this session, due to a summons to jury duty. I had to go to Brockton, a city, not The Big City, but a city nonetheless. I am definitely a country mouse. Luckily I didn’t get lost, and I found a place to park. The next hurdle was to send my bags through the x-ray machine. Yep. Bags. I have a horror of idle time (I can see your heads nodding out there) so I had … a few things to do. And read.

“Empty your pockets in the tray” I was instructed. Then the project bag went through the machine and “WHAT have you got in there?” the security guard asked. I cringed. “ummm, knitting…” I replied faintly. Then more faintly still “and, umm, embroidery. I can put it back in the car,” I quickly offered, not wanting to cause a fuss and remembering the last jury duty (11 years ago) when I couldn’t bring in ANY needlework at all. The trauma is still fresh.

Fortunately this guard was more compassionate. “Oh, no, wait a minute.” He pulled out the ziploc bag that the jacket project sample kit is in. “I think, wait, what’ve you got in here?” Turns out I’d left a small pair of snips inside the little ziploc. He took those, giving me a receipt to ransom them with at dismissal, and I was on my way.

What I really had in that bag was two books (one for work, one for fun) and the latest issue of Spin-Off magazine; two knitting projects, one simple, one more complicated; and the embroidery sample kit. Fortunately I’d had the foresight to swipe my daughter’s thread cutter necklace before leaving the house so I was wicked in business.

I blissfully knitted my way through the necessary paperwork and jury instructions, dutifully trooped down and up the stairs to a courtroom but was never called. I practiced doing two-color trellis stitch. I tried the knot stitch. I worked on both the knitting projects. I had so much fibery fun I should’ve been paying for the privilege. Actually, now that I think about it, the only thing I didn’t get to at all was the book for work. And now I’m off the jury duty hook for three years.

Tomorrow I’ll find out how the end of the weekend went and share, along with more pictures.

Here’s the second installment from Justin. The italics are quotes from Justin’s email.
Some more shots of the bat head on my wheel.

Bat heads were the most common in New England before Minor’s, or the accelerating, head replaced them in the early 19th century to handle the newer, shorter fleeced breeds of sheep which were introduced following the revolution.

The plaited cornhusk bearings for the spindle are made from corn grown last year in the (1627 English) village.

Finally, a shot of yours truly in action. All of these pictures were taken at my house in Scituate, RI.

Thanks for the pictures and explanations, Justin. We’re looking forward to the next chapter.

This is the first email from Justin, the Village interpreter and weaver who is making the blue silk lining for the jacket in conjunction with Kate of Eaton Hill Textile Works.

Here are some pictures of the current progress on the silk lining. See yesterday’s entry for a picture of the sample. I knew it was fine, but Justin mentioned in this email that it is 80 epi (that’s ends, or threads, per inch). That’s some pretty sharp weaving, but as you’ll see from this entry, just as tricky is handling those fine threads through all the pre-weaving steps. The italics are quotes from Justin’s email.

This photo is a bundle of indigo dyed silk skeins and antique spools. I reeled the skeins from the cones on a long reel where we could wind several at a time. The skeins were tied, scoured, and then hand dyed in an indigo vat by Kate. After much fussing, the skeins were separated and dried.

Now they need to be spooled for warping. The next is a picture of the head of the great wheel on which I’ll be spooling. The wheel is from the 18th century and has been passed down in my mother’s family from Hatfield, MA. It seems quite early based on the turnings, iron rings on the posts, wooden axle, and drawknife-worked wheel post.

In this next picture, I’m using another spindle to run the silk over and onto the spool being wound, so as to prevent any cut fingers from the thread.

This last shot is of the swift and skein clamped to the woodbox and the wheel and spool beyond.

In addition to his interpreting and weaving skills, Justin’s a pretty nifty photographer. At least a couple of these, which he took at his home in Rhode Island, look like they were set up at a historic house museum for a magazine article.