When I showed my scarf at the February 2014 meeting of the Humboldt Handweavers and Spinners Guild, I swear I heard the words, “Make a bag out of it.” Whether those words actually were spoken aloud or I simply heard them in my head, I cannot be sure.
Much too prickly to wear wrapped around any neck, the lovely fabric was destined for the deep black-hole of my box labeled “Failed Projects.” Unless I did something with it.
As I sat in my comfy rocker, I kept seeing my beautiful wool fabric as a bag. Could I do it? Would it work as a bag? I doodled a bag on a scrap of paper and thought about my options. I would make my decision in the morning.
Now, my studio is small. Well, very small. Alright, miniscule. Also, I live in this tiny space, so even with giving up my dining table and chairs in order to house my floor loom, I have precious little room in which to store yarn. But we weavers do seem to accumulate yarn. More and more of the stuff. That’s a fact. Plus, I inherited my mother’s stash of precious string. (This is both a blessing and a curse, as you will remember the prickly material from which I made the scarf came from Mother’s cache of needlepoint yarn.)
In my closet (which, thankfully, is a rather large space) I have two stacks of giant plastic tubs. Each stack is three tubs high. What remains of Mother’s cache is, of course, stored in the bottom tub in stack two. So, after lugging five tubs out into the hallway, I could open the final urn. Inside, I found colorful new balls of crochet string which would work perfectly as card woven straps for the bag.
I would line the bag, but had no sweet little label saying “Made Especially for You by . . .” Wait, wasn’t there a scrap of muslin in the . . . ? After a quick call brought my grandson Nick to climb up into the attic to retrieve my fabric paint and stencil material, I cut a stencil and slapped my logo (my initials) all over the muslin in bright magenta paint.
And now you see the finished project. A wool bag with colorful strap, containing a wild lining with a zippered pocket. The hardest job of all was the cutting of the scarf. I pondered the first cut for a while, then with scissors poised, crossed the fingers of my right hand and cut the fabric with my left. (Yes, of course I’m left handed.) I must say, I quite like the bag.