alexandra_thorn: 2009, taken by Underwatercolor (Default)
We're coming up on the end of two weeks of travel, first to Florida to visit my family, and now in Virginia visiting my spouse's family. It has been really good, and I am sad that it is coming to an end.

Meanwhile, the world is threatening to tear itself apart and so many things are big and scary. The things that keep me grounded are being in nature, one-on-one connections, and doing things with my hands. That last one is particularly important, especially when it comes to crafts.

My parents' yard in Florida is overgrown with a bunch of plants that I don't know the names of, which is a bit disorienting when I'm used to living eating, weeding, and making things from familiar plants in Massachusetts. I still don't know most of them, but was able to successfully identify cat's claw vine (https://blogs.ifas.ufl.edu/pestalert/2021/01/22/cats-claw-vine-florida-invasive-plant-added-to-state-noxious-weed-list/), which is classified as "Category 1" invasive. There were actually only a few of the vines around in the yard, and---given that it is actually native to Central and South America and the West Indies---I get the sense that maybe its presence in Florida is part of a natural range expansion with climate change, and that perhaps the biggest concern about it is as an agricultural pest, but I decided that its invasive status was a good enough reason to pull the vines I was able to find and try making a basket out of them (see my previous post on crafts with invasive plants: https://alexandra-thorn.dreamwidth.org/55068.html).

The cat's claw vines are very slender but very nice to work with. As is my habit, I just pulled the vines and worked with them green. Here is the little basket I made:
Diagonal view of basket made of cat's claw vine Top view of basket made of cat's claw vine Bottom view of basket made of cat's claw vine

Here in Virginia, my mother-in-law, who is an avid potter, coached me through making a mug. I am very happy with the result:
unfired clay mug, with relief of zebra on side close-up view of unfired clay mug, with relief of zebra on side

I've also been wanting for a while now to see what the notoriously invasive kudzu is like as a basket-weaving material. My spouse and I went on an expedition to the Rivanna River to find some, and located a large patch just as we were about to give up. The hike was pretty disheartening in a lot of ways. For a good quarter mile along the river we found no kudzu but lots and lots of oriental bittersweet and porcelain berries (not grapes, which we initially mistook them for), as well as catbriar and invasive yams. I think the only native vine we did see was poison ivy. There was also a lot of Japanese knotweed, ailanthus, and invasive roses. TimMc made a remark about coming through with an herbicide sprayer, and I said yes you could spray everything except the poison ivy, and then someone else will come by and spray the poison ivy and then this will look like a moonscape. The whole venture was a good case study in why it won't always work so well to just pull the invasives, that in this kind of space it really would be necessary to clear patches and work on getting native plants established there, and then work along the edges.

When we finally found the kudzu, it was growing on top of a patch of Japanese knotweed, because of course it was. It also turned out not to be what I was expecting (for some reason I thought it was woodier), but we gathered a few coils of the vines for me to play around with.

Back at the house, I spent some time in the woods pulling bittersweet vines. I gathered a bunch that had covered significant horizontal distance by coiling around a dead log. Interestingly, these horizonally-growing vines seemed much more flexible, more uniform in diameter, and generally easier to work with than the bittersweet vines I'd pulled off of trees previously. Perhaps something about growing in shade while the plant tries to cover distance.

In the end, I made a rather large basket mostly out of bittersweet, with the kudzu as just a single band of the weavers (shown between the two white bands of bittersweet with the bark removed). There are a number of clumsy aspects of the final basket, but it was fun to make something really big... facilitated by the rather long straight bittersweet vines I pulled:
top view of bittersweet and kudzu basket top angled view of bittersweet and kudzu basket side close-up of bittersweet and kudzu basket

To round-out our travels, yesterday we went to an artificial beach on Chris Greene Lake. We spent a long time playing around in the water and seeing how close we could get to the fish that hung around the swim area. Toward the end, I had some fun arranging pebbles from the beach:
photograph of a line of pebbles arranged from orange-brown to white to green-black

All of this has been good and much-needed grounding. Islands of sanity in a world of growing chaos.
alexandra_thorn: 2009, taken by Underwatercolor (Default)
This summer I've taken up basket-weaving with invasive plants, and it's been a lot of fun.

My inspiration has been a series of posts by a Mastodon user in the Pacific Northwest, who goes by Sun. In the post below, she shared a bunch of YouTube videos on uses for invasive plants in her region: https://sunbeam.city/@sunflower_avenue/106224053654975394 [*]

The top video on the list, on splitting English ivy to make baskets, caught my eye and I ended up watching a couple of Christi York's videos on processing English ivy for basketry (Christi York's channel is here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPYoF83WiuwfWf94R6n5hXw). The videos were pretty cool, but I was actually most attracted to the "rustic" basket she held up as an example in one of the videos, so I decided to take a shot at basket-weaving with unprocessed green English ivy.

The conventional wisdom in basketry is to first dry and then the soak materials, which is supposed to result in less shrinkage and distortion of the final product, but this sounded more complicated than I wanted to deal with, and my partner, TimMc, who had taken a basketry class when he was in high school, encouraged me to just go ahead, saying that basket-making is very easy and it's not really necessary to soak the materials. I'd learned a little bit of basket-making theory in Tom Brown's Tracker School many years ago, but it hadn't seemed easy then, and it wasn't something that I ever pursued.

English ivy baskets

English ivy (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hedera_helix) is a popular ornamental plant with dark-green foliage. Its popularity as a ground-cover might have something to do with its effectiveness at excluding other plants, and will also grow up trees and walls. The aesthetic appeal is easy to understand but it poses real problems for native plants here in North America.

There's a ton of English ivy in our next-door neighbor's yard, and we've been given permission to spend time in there and the neighbor is appreciative of TimMc's willingness to pursue landscaping projects back there (he's gradually working toward his goal of recreating the Appalachian woodland ecosystems of his childhood here in the city), so it was very straightforward to wander over, rip out a bunch of English ivy, and get started. Two days later, I finished my first basket:

Lopsided basket resting on pillar at foot of our steps Basket lying on its side on a porch, showing bottom

More English ivy baskets )

Black swallow-wort cordage

Making cordage has been a sort of idle hobby for me for ages now, basically since I first attended Tracker School. My favorite materials have been milkweed and dogbane, though I've also worked with basswood bark and tulip tree bark, and I made a really nice cedar necklace cord while actually at Tracker School. I tend to make pretty fine, tight, cord, and generally accumulate about 2 feet of cord before I get sidetracked.

My usual materials are obtained without harm to the plants, from dead milkweed/dogbane stalks in the fall, or from fallen tree branches. Last fall I idly pulled up a dead stem of black swallow-wort, and quickly concluded that the stem fibers were stronger than milkweed and possibly as strong as dogbane. The disadvantage is that the stems are a lot skinnier, so you get a lot less fiber per plant. When I started thinking about uses for invasive plants this year, I started to wonder whether cord could be made from green stems of black swallow-wort that I weed around the neighborhood.

Black swallow-wort (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vincetoxicum_nigrum) is an escaped weed species that has become naturalized here in the Northeastern U.S., and according to Wikipedia is classified as an invasive in Massachusetts and New York. The Wikipedia article mentions that it is specifically a threat to monarch butterflies because of its tendency to crowd out milkweed, but evidently, it is also a "trap-plant" for monarch larvae (https://hhltmaine.org/monarch-butterflys-nemesis-black-swallow-wort/). Because black swallow-wort is a cousin to the milkweeds, monarchs will sometimes lay their eggs on it, even though the plant is toxic to the caterpillars.

This information turns out to have been a great way of getting the kid interested in removing invasives. Monarchs are her favorite butterflies, and she was not pleased to learn that this particular plant hurts them. When she sees black swallow-wort she immediately asks me whether it's okay for her to start pulling it out.

Here is a photograph of black swallow-wort crowding out three milkweed plants, which I took last weekend in the wild area across the street from Waltham Fields Community Farm:
Three milkweed plants with black swallow-wort vines growing up over them

(TimMc and I did our best to free these milkweed plants of the vines, but it was delicate work and a couple of the plants ended up a bit mangled.)

Earlier this summer I set aside some of the plants I'd weeded from around the neighborhood to see what I could do with the fibers after they'd dried. Here's a short cord I made with the fibrous outer layer from three partially dried plants:
Short length of cordage with a quarter for scale

The cord is pretty strong but stiff and kind of scratchy. At some point I'd like to try a retting process to see if I can separate just the fibers, which would give a softer cord, though possibly not as strong.

Oriental bittersweet

Oriental bittersweet is another invasive vine in the eastern U.S., introduced to North America in the late 19th century (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celastrus_orbiculatus). The ecological role of Oriental bittersweet is complicated by the fact that there's a closely related native bittersweet species with which it can hybridize, and it's actually quite difficult to tell the two species apart. Lots of birds will eat the berries too, which points to it not being entirely harmful to local ecosystems. On the other hand, the birds do a great job of dispersing bittersweet over long distances, where it can wreak havoc on native forests.

Bittersweet can grow as a low shrub but is most visible (and harmful) in its vining habit. It tends to form rather elegant helices around trees and other plants:
Oriental bittersweet twining around a young tree

To my eye bittersweet is a really very beautiful vine, but it can girdle, overwhelm, and kill a tree in a matter of years. Shortly after I got started making English ivy baskets, I mentioned to TimMc that I thought Oriental bittersweet would be a great basketry material, but he wasn't sure. A few weeks later he pulled some out of a wooded area at Waltham Fields and offered it to me. I experimentally bent it and saw what he meant: the stems are quite brittle, and it doesn't take much bending to cause them to snap and splinter.

But... when we were visiting TimMc's parents a couple weeks ago, I was suddenly without an easy source of English ivy, but there was a massive supply of bittersweet (which is much more difficult to eliminate) in the woods behind his parents' house. I decided to take a shot at weaving a small basket out of only the slenderest portions of bittersweet vines:
Side view of a tiny basket made of Oriental bittersweet vines Front view of tiny basket made of Oriental bittersweet vines Hand holding my first Oriental bittersweet basket, showing the inside.

More adventures with bittersweet baskets and cordage, including some successes. )

Addendum: Reflections on uses for invasive species

Following our discovery about the strength of fibers from the inner bark of Oriental bittersweet, TimMc joked, "Bittersweet is useful. I don't think there's enough of it in Boston[***]. Maybe I should bring some seed back with me."

We would of course never do this, but the impulse expressed is real. When you get into growing and using plants, and learn a little bit about plant propagation, there's a powerful urge to cultivate anything that seems interesting or useful. TimMc grew up helping out with his father's seed company, and is the one who taught me that a large portion of the produce section of supermarkets can be used to propagate food plants. He often carries small containers with him on walks, so that he can gather seeds from interesting plants he might encounter.

On this most recent visit to TimMc's parents, we also delighted in harvesting invasive wineberries from the woods (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubus_phoenicolasius). TimMc pointed out to me that we should really be pulling those plants out as well, and yeah, we really should have. Granted, wineberries have formidable spines, and we really wouldn't have wanted to touch the stems without some heavy duty gloves, but it was also quite a bit harder for me to work up enthusiasm for bringing gloves into the woods, knowing how delicious the berries are. Instead we made a miniscule impact on the plant by taking a few berries that might otherwise have been dispersed by birds. Maybe next time.

Last Indigenous People's Day, I attended a virtual discussion of food sovereignty with a showing of the movie _Gather_. Afterward, I asked the guest speaker for her thoughts on how I, as a privileged person with high access to quality food and farmers markets, should feel about having harvested acorns that could have gone to feeding someone else. The speaker responded that she thinks it's really important to use the plants on your local landscape, and that the plants will feel better and grow better knowing that someone is using and appreciating how important they are. The response was a little bit of a puzzle, but definitely made a kind of sense, and I think it speaks to this urge we humans have to care for the plants and animals that we use.

Back in April, I wrote a Twitter thread exploring whether and when using a species helps or harms the species being used: https://twitter.com/AlexandraThorn9/status/1382336052757692418

With all of this complexity in mind, for those reading this who might be motivated to look at the other side of the equation---what plants to encourage for their uses---I'd like to close by mentioning some native alternatives that can be used in place of the above invasive plants:
* For baskets, encourage native grape species (https://eattheplanet.org/the-native-grape-vines-of-north-america/) or other native vines
* For cordage, encourage native milkweed species (https://blog.nwf.org/2015/02/twelve-native-milkweeds-for-monarchs/) or the closely related dogbane (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apocynum)
* Instead of wineberries, encourage black raspberries https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubus_occidentalis

----------------
Footnotes

[*] Here are some of the cool things Sun has been working on this summer:
- Blackberry cordage: https://sunbeam.city/@sunflower_avenue/106214882043038437
- Iris leaf rope: https://sunbeam.city/@sunflower_avenue/106406742591109568
- Dandelion stem basket: https://sunbeam.city/@sunflower_avenue/106416392932480263
- Japanese knotweed rope: https://sunbeam.city/@sunflower_avenue/106432827933760971
- She's also trying to figure out whether she can make a bug hotel (typically made of bamboo) out of Japanese knotweed: https://sunbeam.city/@sunflower_avenue/106263854951444607

[**] A basket can be made in a matter of hours, but $20+/hour would add up quickly. TimMc points out that if I pay myself $15/hour then I could charge $30 for a 2-hour basket, which people might be willing to pay, and which would pay better on an hourly basis than my old community college teaching gig (officially the college pays over $25/hour, but they only count classroom hours, which is a joke in terms of labor put into teaching; I laugh so that I don't cry). But my sense is that realistically a professional craftsperson needs to budget something like half their time to marketing and related endeavors, and I think if I were serious about making these for sale I probably wouldn't be working with green vines, which would add a bit of processing time.

[***] Seriously, there is more than enough bittersweet in and around Boston, presumably mostly the invasive species, although it's hard to tell. The stuff is absolutely everywhere that is even slightly ungroomed. Around here, if you see a tree with a vine coiled around it, that coil is bittersweet. In a lot of places you'll also see sawn off vines left behind by caretakers trying to keep the stuff at bay. Really, it's everywhere.
alexandra_thorn: 2009, taken by Underwatercolor (Default)
Animated gif under cut )

Might post a description of creation steps at some point.

UnIcOrNs

Jun. 27th, 2020 05:46 am
alexandra_thorn: 2009, taken by Underwatercolor (Default)
A while back, the kid discovered _Phoebe and Her Unicorn_ (https://www.gocomics.com/phoebe-and-her-unicorn/2012/04/29) at the library, and later on we began checking them out. Marigold and Phoebe quickly became characters in our regular make believe games, and when I was playing Marigold, I particularly relished the opportunity to strike a pose (with one front hoof lifted) and say:
UNICORN


This kind of became a thing outside of make believes too, and it was kind of driving the kid crazy for a while, but when we returned to Phoebe and Her Unicorn more recently, she has embraced it and has started doing it herself.

One day I asked the kid what she wanted for lunch, and she tossed her head and answered,
UNICORN

"I'll see what I can do," I said.

"Wait... what do you mean?" asked the kid.

So, here's what I did:
Unicorns made of carrots, peanut butter, and raisins

And of course, now *this* was a thing, so a few days later...
Vaguely anubis-shaped unicorn made of bread with melted cheese

My spouse said I had to photograph that one, but I think that was mostly because he'd imagined that I'd somehow made it out of a single piece of bread. He was a bit less enthusiastic about the weirdly shaped pieces of bread I'd left in his bread bag...

Later:
Winged unicorn made of carrots, peanut butter, raisins, and dried cranberries

And most recently:
Unicorn "pizza sandwich"

Note the oregano sparkles. Also, because my partner's reaction to the previous bread unicorn was obviously a *challenge*, this one actually is from a single slice of bread.

Meanwhile, we've developed a whole mythology around the various stages of eating one of these things.

For example, when nothing but the horn is left, it is Lord Splendid Humility (https://www.gocomics.com/phoebe-and-her-unicorn/2013/02/23). Horn + ear equals Lord Spendid Humility failing to properly conceal his magnificence.

When just the head is present, it is Marigold in a box that is larger on the inside than the outside (https://www.gocomics.com/phoebe-and-her-unicorn/2019/12/25). And the front half of a unicorn, then, is obviously a unicorn stepping through an interdimensional portal (https://www.gocomics.com/phoebe-and-her-unicorn/2020/03/16).

I have also learned from the kid that a unicorn without legs is a narwhal, although this lesson came not from food but from this toy: https://www.michaels.com/unicorn-wooden-3d-puzzle-by-creatology/10602147.html.

And now you know.

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