Home and the Holidays

Thanksgiving is a difficult thing to celebrate when you're unable to go home. This year was the first year that I didn't go back to my parent's house (or grandparent's house, or aunt's house) to celebrate the holiday with my whole family. Being thousands of miles away made it impossible to make the trip, and coming to that realization was difficult. Much homesickness ensued.

I've been thinking about "home" lately, and where "home" is for me nowadays. For the past four years, "home" has been a number of places: dorm rooms aplenty, an old, school-owned house, and my parent's house over summers and breaks. But now that I've graduated from college, I'm not really sure where to call home. I no longer return to my parents' every few months for movies with my mom and late nights with my brother. And I'm no longer shifting from dorm room to dorm room every few semesters. This place, this half-empty apartment, is my home. And it's strange to claim it as such.

What makes a place home? Is it your things? If so, then my home is halfway in Texas and halfway in Indiana. Is it people? Then my home is scattered across the country, even across the world. Is it where you are? Where you want to be? Is it where your heart is, like the saying says?

These days I don't really know where my heart is. I miss Indiana so much that I want to cry at times, but at the same time I'm starting to appreciate and love Texas. It isn't fair to compare the two, which I did for the first few months. I missed my friends from college, as well as family and friends from my church in Indiana. But now that I'm thinking about going "home" for Christmas, I'm wondering if I actually am going home...or just visiting an old place I used to call home.

I feel like I'm starting to call this home. I'm starting to let myself have roots here, people who I call friends and places that I say are familiar. Though the weather here is a strange, though the people often fit squarely into the cliche, though there is far too much football....I think I'm starting to like it here. Possibly even love it.

Addressing the recent GLBT teenagers' suicides

This is a topic that has come up on Facebook, in the news, in forums, and now in class, and so I feel like I need to speak up about it, too.

• This story of the Rutgers freshman who committed suicide after his roommate posted a video of him having sex with another male
• This eighth grader who shot himself in the head after being bullied for acting gay
• This Indiana teenager who hung himself after being bullied for seeming gay
  

These are all recent stories I've read. There are more, many more. How many students are bullied each day for who they are, and don't tell their parents? How many people are insulted each day at work or by someone they don't even know? How many people who are already hurting from bullies make the mistake of reading the comments on news articles that tell them that they are "an abomination?"

I was bullied in middle school (who wasn't?). It wasn't for my sexuality. Looking back, it wasn't for any reason at all, other than I was labeled as "different." I liked to write, I zoned out in class and accidentally stared at other students. I had previously enjoyed school. But in middle school, other girls made fun of me because I hadn't started shaving my legs, because I wore the wrong clothes or said the wrong things. They were stupid reasons. Every day I came home and sobbed into my pillow because I didn't know why these kids hated me. I had no friends in seventh grade. The counselor that I spoke to told me to write down in my notebook what the kids did to me. The kids stole the notebook and made my life more miserable.

But it got better. That is the point that so many people are trying to make to the kids who are being bullied these days. IT GETS BETTER. There is a Youtube project right now that is striving to tell this to gay teens who endure daily bullying. Those who were bullied and harassed for their sexuality in the past are filmed telling teenagers just that: that their lives got better. This video in particular is excellent.

I learned very little academically in middle school. Close to nothing, really (which is another issue...). But I did learn that bullies are not worth your time. I didn't learn it from my mother, who told me every day that they only bullied because they were insecure. I learned it from surviving, from going to school each day and coming home and living my life. And I think that if we show these kids, these teenagers proof that there is life beyond middle and high school...then maybe these suicides will stop. Maybe these kids will make it to the next day, and the next, and the next. I have hope for that.

Sidenote

It's midnight. I'm reading for theology, a chapter called "The Meaning of Revelation." The author is discussing how God is hidden from us, and God has hidden in Christ. And then the quote: "God's hiddenness...."

Except it's midnight, and I've been reading for classes all day, so what my brain reads is: "God's hideousness...."

And for a brief moment, my brain thinks "Well then, that must be why God stays hidden."

Maybe I shouldn't be reading theology at midnight.

Cotton...agh!

I was ambitious earlier this summer and decided to look beyond my lovely, wonderful wool. I bought cotton. Soft, beautiful, wonderful cotton. Better for Texas weather, I thought.

Why, oh why did I do it to myself?

I understand now why, whenever they show a cotton mill, the air is full of nasty, nasty cotton bits. It gets everywhere. Stuck on my fingers, my clothes, the fabric from my chair, and in the air. Wool doesn't do that. Wool likes itself. It sticks to itself and doesn't fly around too much.

Since cotton doesn't come from an animal, it doesn't really have fiber length...there are just tiny little bits, less than 1/4 an inch long. Which makes it really really hard to draft and spin.

All throughout the yarn there were big fat slubs and thin strands that would break when they went through my wheel's orifice. I nearly gave up...I felt like I was spinning cotton balls, and couldn't believe they would stay together in the end.



But in the end, when I started to ply it...the cotton charmed me. It's so soft. And the uneven singles were actually turned into a pretty neat looking yarn.


In the end, I was pretty happy. However, I have decided that spinning cotton requires patience, determination, and a good amount of biting back the curses while praying. Or something along those lines. Maybe I'll try it again sometime...maybe.

Shalom Cardigan

I know, I know. I'm not supposed to be knitting this much. I should be studying hard and learning all sorts of new things, and telling you all about them. And I promise - I AM learning lots of new, wonderful, confusing things. And I will write about them...when I can wrap my brain around them. Until then, I'm doing a lot of knitting.

I frogged the cardigan I was working on. In the end, it was a bit of a disappointment...there were a lot of shortcomings in it, and I really wouldn't suggest it for a beginner. I'm sure some people would be able to figure it out...but I didn't care to struggle with it. So instead, I found another (free) pattern - Meghan McFarlane's lovely Shalom Cardigan. Here is the direct link to the pattern and her blog if you are interested.

When I went to Knitter's Connection in Columbus, OH this summer, I spoiled myself with some beautiful Briar Rose polywarth roving. Their dyeing is stunning. My mom and friend Hannah have bought their yarn several times, and I've always lusted over it. I was thrilled to find that they sold roving...and had such a hard time deciding! In the end, though, I picked out a lovely blueish greenish wool that reminded me of the pictures you see of Earth from space.

The Shalom Cardigan was perfect for this yarn. I had just a few yards left over, and so nothing was wasted. I managed to spin a lovely worsted-weight, which was a little thin for the pattern, but I used size 11 needles and the gauge was great. If I made this sweater again, I would probably change a few things with the yoke, and add 2 more buttons. I may make it with sleeves.

Here is my end result! I'm very happy. Please ignore the dumb expression on my face....


Will upload more pictures to my Ravelry page later!

Rainbow Stitches...finished

I've said this before...but I love this yarn. Kauni is wonderful stuff. Yes, it's slightly scratchy, but that's forgivable when you look at the colors. They fade seamlessly from one shade to the next. I am so happy with this shawl.

The pattern is Stephen West's Boneyard Shawl (Ravelry link). It's very easy and is great if you're interested in showing off the qualities of your yarn rather than your knitting (which I generally am...). I'd definitely make it again with a different yarn. For Kauni, though, it was perfect. The shawl size is perfect, too. I've been carrying it to class, since the rooms area usually kind of cold. I've gotten a lot of comments on it.

With that finished, I decided I should probably start getting rid of all this handspun yarn I now have lying around. I started a cardigan using the pattern Presto Cardigan. I like the pattern so far. I've finished the back and am working on the right front.


I love the yarn separately, and I liked it when I laid the skeins next to each other...but I'm not sure what I think of it. It's very Christmasy. I'm using a maroon merino bought at Sheep Street, a forest green BFL from Miss Babs, and a orange/purple/green Corriedale called "Autumn Leaves" from Fantail Fibres. All were wonderful to spin (though BFL is amazing stuff...)

So I might end up frogging this; I might keep it. I'm not sure yet. I'll finish the front and see what I think. I might change up the striping for the sleeves.

Thoughts?

Society, women, and rape

A friend linked THIS on her facebook page, and I thought it should be shared further. It is a very well-written blog post about women and the way society expects them to act, and then the way women act when they are raped. Very interesting, very informative, and very important for everyone to read.

Gardening prayers needed!

There's been a lot to pray about lately, but tonight it will be for a non-human. I planted an herb garden today! I love having green things around (the grass outside my window doesn't count). I think we all need "green" in our lives, and that it can really help make a place seem like a home. So I decided to try growing some herbs on my window ledge. I planted sweet basil, parsley, and chives. If they grow, I hope to learn to cook using them. If not...well, at least I tried.


I'll post updates on these as they grow...if they grow

Natural Dyes - Nature's Blessing Stole

For a good portion of the summer, I worked hard on a project for a friend: a stole made from wool which I cleaned, combed, and spun.

Raw rambouillet fleece. You can see just from the fleece that there were varying shades of cleanliness.

We washed the fleece in warm water with soap (3 baths), and warm water without soap (3 baths). We used Seventh Generation dish soap because it doesn't have enzymes in it, which can ruin the fleece.

After the fleece was washed, we lay it out to dry on an old screen door. It took several days to dry fully.

One of the ways I prepared the fleece was by carding it. I bought two dog combs from the pet store and use them as combs to make rollags. I've also carded wool and used a makeshift dis (basically a circle with a hole in the middle) to make long bits of top. I don't have pictures to demonstrate this.

And then I spun it into yarn! This stuff is heavenly to spin. I think it may have something to do with the fact that there are less (no!) chemicals in the yarn once I've finished it, or maybe the fact that I worked with the wool from almost the beginning. It spun so easily, no drafting necessary.

The wool was a gift from a friend, and I wanted to make something with it for her. Because she is very much a gardener and nature person, I decided that I would experiment with natural dyes while working toward the final goal of knitting a stole.

Black and white fleece spun together and then dyed twice with red onion skins. In the final stole, it looked greener than it does here.

From left: Pink: third dyebath with tickseed (little yellow flower we have in our front yard). The water boiled away partially, giving the yarn a variegated look. Orange: First dye with tickseed. I used copper pennies as mordant for this dyebath, but took them out for the pink. Yellow: Queen Anne's Lace with allum mordant.

I dyed this roving with tickseed. I believe the finished yarn is the orange in the picture above.

The finished stole! The pattern is called "woven stitch." I embroidered a cross and a flower on the two ends, and I think they turned out fairly well, despite my lack of embroidery skills. Marie loved the stole, and I loved making it!

I started the project with the hope to make something for someone who meant a lot to me...doing it in a way I thought she'd approve of. I'd never really considered using what is given to us in nature for something like this before...but now I think I will find it hard to return to using chemicals to dye with. Those dyes fade over time. Centuries of cloth from Europe show us that natural dyes stay brilliant for much longer. The extra effort is worth it in the end.

On the "Ground Zero Mosque"

You know what the saddest part is, in my opinion? It was supposed to be a community center. A place where people of the Muslim faith could reach out to the community around them, to New Yorkers of all faiths. And now, by no fault of their own, it has become a nasty debate that is ripping this country further apart. It's almost as if we don't want the bridges to be mended, as if we don't want to heal the wounds. It's hard to say, but can't we move on? Not to forget the past, but to accept it and move forward.

First Days

It was raining this morning when I got up, which was a startling surprise. I didn't think it knew how to properly rain in Texas...rain for more than 10 minutes at a time, that is.

Today was my first day of classes here at Brite. I live in the seminary housing, and so it's a little bit of a walk up a hill to campus. It had finally cooled down today (Thank you, God!!!), so the walk up wasn't so bad. During orientation, I had to change clothes completely when I walked back the first day.

I had two classes today - Intro to Theology, and Intro to Ministry Studies. I've never really liked the first few days of school...they're dull and you don't learn anything. We go over the class list and how to pronounce names, then read the syllabus...sometimes line for line. Then we get an assignment for the next class and go home. My first class was like that. My second class, however, was more fun. Probably because it was 2.5 hours...which may not be so fun by the end of the semester.

Overall, things are going well here. I absolutely love being here and really enjoy being in a community of other seminary students. Even though we're all studying the same/similar things, we're a very diverse group. Just in my second class today, for first year students only, we had an age range of 22-75ish. Black, white, hispanic, gay, straight, bi, male, female...and all different denominations. I think that discussion will really benefit from this diversity. I can't wait!

Inclusion

This

Brite Divinity School values people of all culture, nationalities, ethnicities, races, and religions, with regard to characteristics such as sex, gender, sexual identities, social class, age, and differing abilities. We are committed to promoting a diverse and just environment, in which language and practices support the achievement of inclusion. Brite seeks to remove all barriers to the maintenance and aspirations of its Mission Statement and Non-discrimination Statement.

is why I'm so glad to be here. Because they spent ten minutes this morning talking to us about the importance of inclusion, and inclusive language. Because this statement includes not only gender, age, and race, but also sex, sexual identities, and differing abilities. Because this statement, this discussion, and the fact that everyone in the room seemed okay with it, makes me feel like I can be myself here, and that is something that is very important to me.

They made certain we know it wasn't just a statement written just so that they have a statement to show people. It seemed to me, sitting in that freezing cold classroom with dozens of other incoming MDiv students, that they actually believed it. They talked to us about Brite's past history with inclusion, how in 1952, before the height of the Civil Rights Movement, Brite decided to accept African American Students. The university told them that they could accept the students, but that the students would not be allowed to eat on the university's campus. So Brite made a kitchen in one of the classrooms, so that everyone could eat together. It's here, it's part of the past, present, and future. And I am so excited for that.

Today was the first real day; the first day of orientation. I met other students today from all over. Some were like me, fresh out of undergraduate; others were much older. I met a woman who could be my grandmother, and she's just as excited as the rest of us. There was so anticipation in that classroom, so many eager souls ready to start and yet terrified at the same time. I've only been here since Saturday, and I haven't even started classes, but I think I love this place already.

More memories...

In packing up my things, I found a floppy, bright red binder with my name on the front. Over the years, I've found and lost this binder. It was given to me when I was baptized on April 16, 2000. It's astonishing to me that this was more than ten years ago, and that I was only twelve years old. I look at the picture included in the folder and barely recognize the girl with the tilted head, long blond hair, and bright green, patch-covered Girl Scout vest who is standing all the way in the back. There were ten of us in that Pastor's Class, and of the ten, only three of us continue to attend this church regularly with our families.

That day was one of the happiest in my life. I remember being dunked under, and then coming up and wanting to see the silver dove that hangs above the baptistery, but not being able to because I didn't have my glasses on. Later that day, I went to my brother's soccer game and swung on the playground, smiling from ear to ear and having no idea why.

But more than the smiles, more than anything else, I remember the words that were spoken to me that day, which are captured forever on the page thoughtfully included in my bright red binder. The reminder to read the Bible rings in my ear to this day.

I'd forgotten the last paragraph, though, and it seems, in a way, almost the perfect send-off, because the hope of my pastor is the hope that I have for myself as I go off to seminary. He wrote, those ten years ago:

"May you continue to hone your skills as a reader and as a musician, seeking always to offer the gifts of your intellect and imagination and musicianship in the service of our Lord and Savior."

And this simple hope is exactly what I want to achieve.

Memorable books

Packed my books today. I'm not taking as many as I'd thought. I think my mom's constant reminder to "take as little as possible" is having some effect on my packing.

It was interesting to see which books were chosen. I didn't think about it too hard, just tossed them in the "yes" or "no" piles. A lot of the books I went through were school books...books from literature classes. I think being a writing major doubled my library! Makes me glad I had a major that required books that were worth keeping.

Most of the lit books were English literature. I've apparently gotten over being tired of Jane Austen, because her entire works went in. As did many Bronte books (Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Agnes Grey). I didn't put in Villette, but then again I never finished it, and most of the books I chose to take were ones I finished. Or at least tried very hard to finish. Or ones that I want to read someday. Like Hard Times.

Faulkner was completely left out. Much as I love the man, I need a little more time to recover from having an entire class on him. The same thing happened with Austen...I've just had a little more time. Moby Dick is also staying here. A lot of American literature is staying, actually. I don't know what I have against it, but it just isn't my favorite. However, I am taking Crime and Punishment, because it was one of my favorites from high school, and I have delusions that I'll actually reread it and figure out which of the characters has lavender gloves (one of the quiz questions).

I also went through the drawers under my bed, and almost all of them are empty. I found all of the papers I ever wrote in college, which is a little telling about how much of a packrat I am. I'm pretty embarrassed at some of the ones I threw together at the last minute. I'd like to go back in time and kick my freshman/sophomore self and tell her to write them a week earlier!! I could have gotten straight As. But I did read over one of them (on Alice in Wonderland, a poem by Kipling, and Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market) that could have been good if I'd...oh, I don't know...read over it before handing in? Sigh. I'm going to try to get better at this procrastination issue, but considering I'm leaving in ten days for Texas and I haven't even finished reading the required book yet...well, I might need to try a little harder.

There are a lot of memories in my books. Not just physical things in the books, like dried flowers and notes written in the margins, but memories that only reappear when I open the pages and read the words that I probably only skimmed before. Sometimes when I'm reading over a passage, I can hear the conversation that was going on around me, or I remember what music was playing when I was reading the first time. The words are like little time capsules to the past. Too bad they only connect me to my past. I suppose the author's is in there somewhere...

Someday I want to reread these books. Austen, Faulkner, Melville...okay, maybe not Melville. But I do want to reread the books I was "forced" to read. So many times, it's the second time through that the book clicks finally for me. It was like that with The Sound and the Fury. We read it as seniors in college, part of Modern Literature. It was an epic undertaking, as any reading of Faulkner is, and my copy of the book has the battle scars to prove it. Highlighting, pen and pencil marks, scribbles at the ends and beginnings of chapters. I loved it the first time through, but the second time, I understood it. And I loved it more. (The third time through I was sick of it, but probably only because I needed more break time. That's the problem with being a lit major...you get repeat books, and sometimes even repeat discussions. I think I had three of those. The Sound and the Fury, Pride and Prejudice, and....something American by either Hemingway or Fitzgerald.)

(I feel the need to add that not all of my books fall under the category of "literature." I packed The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, which is perfectly fluffy fiction, as well as three of David Sedaris' books. Which probably do fall under the category of "literature," but they are hilarious and books I would read any day or night without complaint. Unlike Moby Dick. Or anything by Fitzgerald.)

Long post. Sorry about that. I always get excited when it comes to books. Can you blame me?

It's the wait that kills you

I've been avoiding posting on here.

Part of it is because my next spinning/knitting/dyeing post is about a gift that hasn't yet been given. But part of it is because of the other reason why I keep this blog: the seminary part.

Summer was going by so slowly. I went to movies with my mom, ate lunch at Steak 'n Shake, knit, and read some of the Bible. May came and went...June came....passed by at a painfully slow rate. But July...things started to speed up. And then the days went crashing by, and now suddenly it's the last day of the month. Suddenly I leave for Texas in twelve days, and I don't know how to comprehend this.

I've never lived outside this state. The midwest has been my home for 22 years. I complain, but I really love the crazy winters and the humid summers. I love that this part of the country gets four seasons, even if the four seasons don't always happen in the right order. But it's not just moving from this state that scares me.

I'm starting a new part of my life. This would have happened no matter if I'd decided to go to seminary or not; I graduated, and so moving out of my parents' house is the next step.

You get the point: I'm scared. I think that somehow, something will go wrong. It's like the summer before I studied abroad in England: the mix of anticipation, fear, excitement, and the unknown created in me the disbelief that I would ever get there.

I keep telling myself, though, that this is what I am supposed to be doing. This is the direction I'm meant to go, and so things will end up alright. It will be hard, but it's be boring if it wasn't.

In the end, I really just can't wait. Twelve days. Twelve days!

Thoughts on Tolstoy, the Bible

Yesterday, my mom and I watched The Last Station, which is a film about the end of Leo Tolstoy's life, and the difficulties that aroused between Sophia Tolstoy (his wife) and Vladamir Chertkov. Chertkov was a member of the group that called themselves the Tolstoyans. In the film, these people gathered around Tolstoy as if he were the new Christ speaking the word of God.

I've not read any Tolstoy, and this film is pretty much the extent of my learnings on Tolstoy. It's a fact I'm a little ashamed of, but someday I hope to read his work. In general I, love the Russian writers, and I'm sure I will love Tolstoy.

It occurred to me while we were watching the movie that I didn't particularly like the way that Chertkov idolized Tolstoy. Granted, the film did not portray him in a very good light. He was trying to make Tolstoy leave his works to the public domain, while Sophia wanted their children to receive it as an inheritance. Chertkov put Tolstoy above most everything else - he said that he was the most important man in all of the world, yet he pushed and shoved Tolstoy into doing what he wanted. At one point, a young woman had a mosquito on her cheek, and Tolstoy reached out to squish it. Chertkov told him that he should not have killed a living creature; that that wasn't the message their movement needed to send. Yet it was Tolstoy who has come up with the movement, who had written the words to spark it.

I'm not familiar with the movement itself, so I won't speak for or against it. But I do think that Chertkov was wrong to spend his whole life idolizing the work of another. He seemed a very intelligent man, and I believe he wrote some. But instead of taking his talent and working on his own things, he acted as Tolstoy's guard, sometimes even against Tolstoy himself.

As a child and a young writer, I idolized other writers, but learned to write my own things. Yes, I was inspired and continue to be inspired by these authors, but my work is my own. I believe that it stands alone. I understand that this may be different - that this is social reform rather than fiction, but I think the same thing stands.

Yet as I was thinking about it, I realized that we do this with Christ, with the Bible. Many of us dedicate our lives to the Word of God and to studying it. And I thought, this is not wrong, because Christ is the Son of God. But in the film, many of the people believed that Tolstoy was a prophet, who spoke directly from God as well. How can we tell?

I don't really have a conclusion to make, other than this: We follow people, their belies; we find their works inspirational. But no matter if it is Tolstoy, J.K. Rowling, or the Bible itself...we can't allow ourselves to become blinded and to forget that our ideas matter, too. I think that we have to be inspired by ourselves, as well. We have to remember to think for ourselves.

Rainbow Stitches

For a few years now, I have been in search of the perfect rainbow yarn. Something that stripes slowly, with rows and rows of one color before you get to the next. Most of the striping yarn you find has quick stripes, little snatches of color. I'd seen people using long striped yarn on Ravelry, but either they didn't list what type of yarn it was, or I didn't know how to read their language.

Last week, my mom attended the TKGA conference (which is a little redundant as TKGA stands for "The Knitters' Guild of America). Among the hoards of yarn she brought home was a ball of something called Kauni.

Kauni is my dream yarn. I read reviews of it on Ravelry, where people said that it is very course, frustrating to knit with...but I love it. Maybe it is from spinning, but I don't mind that it is a rougher yarn. It's Shetland wool, for goodness sake! It's not going to be a yarn you want around your neck.

The day after I got it, I spent about two hours searching for a pattern on Ravelry, before finally settling on the Boneyard Shawl. I love this, because it is simple. I'm a beginning knitter, and this pattern is all knits, purls, and M1L and M1R stitches. Very easy.

And the colors! Well, you'll just have to see them for yourself:


(I have to apologize to Franklin Habit, (though I doubt he will ever read this), who taught the photographing fibers class in Columbus, OH...didn't make my lightbox yet, and so this is really bad lighting....)

It's such a happy knitting project. :)

Etsy Listings

My Etsy Shop has now been updated!

I meant to do this once I got settled in for the summer, but lost track of things. Currently I just have four items for sale, but hopefully soon I will list new things...such as handspun yarn! I've also had a request in the past to list my snood pattern, so if I get around to it, I may list that as well.

Cheers!

Some Results....that aren't all yellow!

Red onion skins, dyed twice. Spun from gifted fleeces, grey and white. Result is a greenish yellow.

On the left, Queen Anne's Lace full plant with no mordant. On the right, tickseed flowers with copper pennies at the bottom of the dyebath, no pre-mordant. Tickseed flowers are small yellow flowers, so when the dyebath turned crimson I was shocked. I didn't want to waste such a pretty color on such a small amount of yarn, so I dyed roving as well.

Prepared same as tickseed yarn above, with a much more orange color. The color also seems veragated, possibly because there was barely enough water to cover the whole skein of roving. I am REALLY happy with this result. I hope that the color stays fast. It is still wet at this point, and tomorrow I am going to put it out in the sun and see how it does.

Finally, something that is not YELLOW!!

Dyeing Woes...

Sigh.

The search for green is not going well. Yellows, lots of yellows. But greens? Of course not.

I found someone on Ravelry who managed to get green from red onion skins, and thought that I'd try their method. It's simple enough - mordant the yarn using alum and cream of tarter while boiling the skins. Add the yarn to the dyebath, let it simmer for a while, and then when you take it out, it's green. But something seems to have gone wrong. Her yarn went from pink to orange to rust to green. Mine's just yellow. At least I can try it again with the same skein, if it didn't get felted while I wasn't watching.

My blueberry yarn turned out a decent shade of blue (pictures to follow), but the roving felted in the pot, and so the yarn is incredibly stiff and overspun (my fault).

Always, the problem is my lack of patience. Dyeing naturally can't be done quickly. It takes time. Unfortunately.