Some fibre and some berries

Some colour to brighten up this dull day here in Moggieland.
I decided to have a go at dyeing some fibre for spinning. I read up on the hows and whys of doing so and asked some very knowledgeable friends because I'd read that if you aren't careful it is very easy to felt unspun fibre. I didn't want that to happen, not unless I wanted felt for my femmes.
I soaked the fibre in a mix of citric acid and washing up liquid for a couple of hours. At this time the sun was shining and it was fairly breezy which are ideal conditions for drying fibre.
Did it stay like that? Did it heck as like.
Undeterred I assembled all the ingredients, plastic cover for table? Check
Cling film for wrapping fibre? Check
Dyes? check
Rubber gloves? Check
Steamer? Check
Laid out the fibre on the cling film, a rough S shape, splodged the colours I wanted along the fibre, wrapped up in the cling film and steamed for 25 minutes. Left too cool a little, couldn't wait til it was fully cool I was way too excited to see if it had worked.
Rinsed, fluffed out slightly and Mr Mog put out on line.
Weather changed, grey sky and dull, very cold and moisture in the air. Oh rats, would I end up trying to dry it inside?
As you can see I didn't:)


This was a mixture of red, earthy yellow and dark green. I love the finished fibre and can't wait to try spinning it up.
But this, ah this , it is the bees knees:) My most favourite colours and they blended perfectly. What do you think? It is a mix of electric blue and vivid violet.
The fibre is BFL, my favourite of all to knit with.
Then I did promise you a picture of current progress on my very berry elsewhere jacket so here you go.
Doesn't it remind you of berry feasts, crumbles and fruit fools? Purple stained lips and hands from picking nature's bounty that she gives us at this time of year.
Dark dark purples and plums demanding we try a taste, just one that all too soon becomes dozens. Do you remember stumbling home under large baskets of brambles and elderberries? Do you remember the satisfaction of tasting the crumble your mum, or in my case Nan, made and saying "I picked these"?
I can remember days lying in woodland watching the fruit ripen or so it seemed. Waiting for the first dark berry, eager to taste. Then what seemed the very next day a positive abundance weighing down the branches.
I love the perfumed taste that blackberries give when you simmer them to extract the juice. Well you have to taste it don't you to ensure there is enough sugar?