Near the end of a project, with the final throws of the shuttle, while I’m quietly stitching the hem, there’s a hint for the next warp. It teases its way into my brain. It’s the “what if…” that carries weavers to rethread the loom time and again.
What if I change the treadling from a straight sequence to a pointed sequence? What happens if I use a finer yarn? What if I focus on block A instead of block C? What if I weave overshot as if it were honeycomb? Can it even work? The only way to find out is to try it.
Samples. I have to confess I’m a “let’s just get it done” type of person. I’m thrifty and I’m impatient. Samples have always seemed like a waste of time and money, and what would I do with them afterwards?
I’m getting wiser in my old age. How many times have I woven something only to find out the sett was too tight, or the yarn I’d chosen bleeds, or the weave just wasn’t what I thought it would be. That’s a waste of time of money.
So my sample stash is growing. I had a tub …
that spilled over to a drawer …
and now to a second drawer.
I really admire those super-organized weavers who keep their samples in neat binders and sleeves along with all their planning notes and records. I’m not there yet.
I have at least started tagging my samples so I have a vague idea about what I was trying to do and why it did or did not work. That’s a start.
The next step is to sort them into some order so I can find that inspiration when I need it. And as I’m sorting the samples, one or another gives me pause. A different yarn perhaps? Maybe this will work for that new curtain? What if I added an accent color right there? What if….?













You’ve heard the saying: “You can take the girl out of (insert your favorite place), but you can’t take the (insert your place again) out of the girl.” Cute and catchy. It explains all sorts of idiosyncrasies we aren’t even aware of, and some we wish we could outgrow, but no, they are part of our make-up.


















