Yesterday, when I mentioned the Textile Conservation Fund and thanked the Mayflower Sampler Guild for their donation, I neglected to thank the Fund’s godmother. Wendy of Wee Works and Tokens & Trifles not only suggested that we establish a fund for the conservation of Plimoth’s samplers, she pretty much insisted on it. It wasn’t that I didn’t think it was a good idea, or didn’t want to encourage donations to support these textile treasures, there was just so much to do and things kept falling off the bottom of the list. But thanks to Wendy’s persistence, we have a fund, and it has been kicked off handsomely.

The whole stocking-knitting phenomenon gets chalked up to Wendy’s credit, too. She saw the awesome potential of this blog long before I realized it, and prodded me to ask for needed knitting volunteers here. So far we’ve sent out over 40 kits for gloves and stockings, and I just got another volunteer offer today.

Wendy does more than have good ideas, though. Here she is embroidering during one of our lightly attended sessions around the holidays. She did the very first blue strawberry flower the other week, too. She pinch-hits for Tricia as coordinator and trouble-shooter during sessions, and she’s taught a lovely commemorative needlebook stitching project to each session’s embroiderers (she designed it, too).

Thanks, Wendy.

This project has a life of its own, as I’ve said many a time before, and it’s been making friends not only for itself but for me too. I’m pretty lucky to be along for the ride.

Kris and Heather are embroidering to close out the week. Those are Kris’ hands. Heather’s working on a thistle. Thank you, Wendy, for the photos and for the title for today’s post. Yesterday we walked to the 1627 Village in the freezing cold and gathering clouds (seems it only snows around here when we’ve got a session on) to look around a bit.

One of the week-old kids (goat baby) poked his nose out of the shelter to see us, but the newer babies were kept in by the careful mamas. Rose the heifer demanded to have her chin scratched. Tom took some time out of thatching the roof of the newest 1627 house to talk about whether old embroiderers wore eyeglasses (in the 17th century he meant, and no, we don’t know) and a little about how we decide where to put the houses in the Village. Then we stopped in at the wardrobe office to look at some of the mended clothes.

Tomorrow Karin will show Heather and Kris the three samplers in the Plimoth originals collection. Yes, I’ve only talked about two before. We have another, which in my 17th century near-sightednessI didn’t “count”. It’s dated 1808 or 1809 and apparently is a pretty nice early 19th century example. When I started here in 1988 it was hanging in one of the offices of the administration building. D’you believe that?

Samples received: from Deborah P and Angel A

and the first lace sample from Devon T! Wow – that was extremely fast!

AND yesterday I mailed out 21 more kits for stockings and gloves, thank you to all the knitters who have volunteered.

All of the scheduled sessions are full or nearly so. I have sent an email with the schedule to all the embroiderers I’m expecting in August. If you didn’t receive a personal email with the August schedule, it means I don’t know you want to come. Please get in touch right away. jhall@plimoth.org By the end of the week I’ll be sending out confirmations for the September & October sessions. If you’re signed up for any session and you can’t make it after all, please let me know as soon as possible; perhaps another embroiderer can take your place. And yes, we’ll shortly be scheduling sessions for 2008 (2008!).

Carol left this question in the comments:

So do you have any idea what they meant by mingled?
Was it one color in the warp and another in the weft?
Woven from threads that were space dyed?

I have one idea what may have been meant by mingled, but there certainly could be other explanations. Gervase Markham’s 1615 book The English Housewife outlined all the skills a woman needed to run a large manor house, including “cookery, banqueting-stuff, distillation, perfumes, wool, hemp, flax, dairies, brewing, baking, and all other things belonging to a household.” This volume is a wealth of information for modern historians.

In the textiles chapter, Markham explains how, after the wool is dyed but before it is spun, the housewife should mix her colors together. He says that “the best medley” is composed of two parts dark color wool and one part light color wool. He explains that all the wool should be thoroughly carded “till you see it perfectly and undistinctly mixed together, and that indeed it is become one entire colour of divers without spots.”

The blended wool is then spun and woven into cloth. Perhaps the resulting fabric was called mingled color, like in the inventory. Markham doesn’t say.

In the 17^th century a kind of silk cloth with one color warp and a different color weft was called “changeable taffeta”; it is still made in the 21^st century. It seems to change color as the cloth moves. It’s possible that mingled color meant this kind of cloth, though, or something entirely different.

Thanks for asking Carol, and please if you have any wonderings, leave questions in the comments or email me at jhall@plimoth.org. Sometimes I don’t know what would be interesting to write about and I welcome your suggestions.