Emily graciously wound bobbins yesterday, and in four hours we had a hundred turn warp on the warp beam. About fifty yards, I believe. I didn't keep track last time, as I should have.
There it is, thirty eight inches of twenty ends per inch. 20 epi, in the parlance.
It's also thirty eight inches to throw the shuttle, substantially more than the twenty inch towel warp I just finished.
Across a warp with no race on the bar.
Well, I used to throw forty five inches and not think about it. Just keep the tip of the shuttle up when it's released.
Before another warp goes on that loom I will get a man in town to build me a proper spool rack.
If I knew who bought the two we sold, I'd be knocking on their door.
Another old lesson:
Don't bleed on the goods.
In the old days, when someone rushed to the bathroom, clutching a bleeding digit, the rest of us in the studio chorused after, "No bleeding on the goods."
And old skin pierces far more easily.
I did that on the thread guides, and became much more careful when I had to work around two bandages, too.
This morning, counting the ends in each bout to be sure all were there, I looked through the loom and found myself under the watchful eye of the supervisor.
The view through the heddles, ready to begin threading.
I like the curl of the cotton behind the wire heddles.
Half done. I quit about three quarters done. Tomorrow is another day.
I promise, if I encounter any more old lessons I will save them up.