Weaving project tops fall to-do list
(Originally published September 2022)
“I have so much to do before the weather turns cold,” I told a friend a couple of weeks ago.
“You mean like stacking the rest of that firewood?” she asked, looking out the window.
“Huh?” I said. “Oh, yeah, that. But there’s something more urgent.”
She waited.
“What I must do first, above all else,” I said, speaking slowly to emphasize the enormity of what I was about to tell her, “is weave a fall table runner.”
After a pause to process this exciting news, she let out a long breath and said, “You do know you’re not like other people, right?”
What a lovely thing to say.
But wait. Was she suggesting that I’m the only one whose mind, now and then, gets consumed by a creative impulse, to the exclusion of “important” things? My obsession, this month, was to make an aesthetically pleasing, if useless, piece of cloth to lay on the kitchen table for a few weeks.
Was that so odd?
Before this year, I’d never had a table runner, or felt the need for one. But circumstances had changed.
“At best, I’m gourd-neutral.”
We recently bought a kitchen table, the first new, not-banged-up one we’ve ever owned. Lacking the gouges, water stains, and flecks of sparkle nail polish I was used to, this table’s glowing wood surface cried out for embellishment.
I have a friend who, every September, puts a pumpkin-shaped doormat on her stoop and flanks it with sheaves of cornstalks. She puts out rust-colored coffee mugs and sets a bowl of gourds on her table. It looks nice. I’ve just never cared much about seasonal decorations. At best, I’m gourd-neutral.
Yet here I was, hyperfocused on designing my first autumnal home accent. I would make it with my rigid-heddle loom, a wooden tabletop contraption that, in the hands of a skilled weaver, can yield beautiful textiles.
I am not a skilled weaver.
The setup—or warping—always gives me fits, and the results are never great. Thus, after a couple of years, I’ve only made a few things—mainly a cardboard-stiff scarf and a series of trapezoidal tea towels and dish cloths.
In the early days, I’d struggle with the loom for an hour or two, getting more frustrated by the minute. When my rage levels peaked, I’d banish it to the spare bedroom where it could sit for a few months to think about what it had done.
Fortunately, over time, I’ve made real progress. For instance, I no longer believe the loom is actively persecuting me. I’ve leaned into the learning process and now have brief periods where, between mishaps, I find the weaving almost enjoyable.
So once the idea of a table runner took hold, I spent hours delighting in the possibilities. Did I want stripes? A solid? Plaid? Houndstooth? And in what colors?
It’s all I thought about for days. I searched for weaving patterns. I watched weaving videos. I got up in the middle of the night to arrange cones of yarn in potential color palettes. Many people put less planning into their weddings.
I could hardly wait to start the weaving, and I was determined, for once, to produce something that didn’t look like a summer camp project made by a third-grader with a sprained wrist.
I spent two full evenings just warping and tensioning the loom to my satisfaction—that’s longer than the weaving took, in fact.
Actual weaving in progress—with some cursing
I still cursed a lot, but in the end, I got what I had been aiming for: a simple striped table runner (or at least part of one; it’s more like a three-foot-long placemat). The dimensions vary, depending on where you measure it, but it’s nearly rectangular, and the fabric is almost uniform. At last, I’m getting the hang of it.
I laid the runner in the middle of the table last night, and it is, frankly, adorable.
Every time I walk by it, I get a little surge of pride. Sure, there was a moment during the weaving when I threatened to use the loom for kindling. But I worked past that, and the result is a cheerful piece of autumn décor.
Now I can get back to stacking wood.
But first I have to run to the farm store. The warm colors in the table runner have put me in a weird fall decorating mood. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but suddenly I’m feeling very pro-gourd.
