And it isn’t something we just know how to do to start with! I didn’t sew before I started reenactment in 2020, but now it’s like, my primary hobby. You can start reenacting and THEN gain the skills I promise <3
My first tunic in 1991 when I was 19, I made from, brace yourselves, an opp shop/thrifted ripstop nylon brown crush velvet dress for a statuesque lady that had boofy shoort sleeves and a keyhole neckline that looked sorta 11th-12th century. I shortened it by a metre and took a big dart out of the back to fit, and wore it with some plain brown straight leg trousers and made a belt to go with it, and my blacksmith elder brother helped me forge a penannular brooch so I could use a plain wool blanket as a cloak.
My next tunic was hand sewn linen, the next after that handsewn wool, and within three years I was making turnshoes.
Now it's 35 years later, I own _sixty_ tents, including six yurts, there's a rack of spears, axes and bows in the corner, and I have outfits enough for a three to five day event for any of the the migration era, early medieval western europe, and as far east as the Pontic Steppe, plus also European high medieval, sixteenth, eighteenth, mid nineteenth century, and late nineteenth century. There's an industrial sewing machine in the upstairs room, and a 10 foot by 4 foot high cabinet behind me with 45 glass fronted drawers full of sewing, leatherworking, embroidery, photography and armouring tools and notions and supplies.
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I saw a post by @monsterblogging stating that an important step in decolonizing Fantasy is to recognize how "wildly anti-environmental" Europeans became, with the near extinction of wolves through hunting in england used as an example. The post linked to this article: https://www.discoverwildlife.com/animal-facts/mammals/wolves-in-britain which says that the mass-hunting and demonization of wolves was started by the normans to protect sheep flock which produced valuable wool.
and this mentality was carried by white people everywhere they colonized—seeing any animals thats mildly challenging to humans as something thats degraded, unpersoned and killed off or contained in the deep wilds.
This post made me ponder when this type of mentality was developed in pre-modern Europe, and what where the factors behind its development. Can i ask for your opinion as a medievalist and historian in this subject?
...Well. For starters, the linked post is just, uh. Wrong. On several levels. In several ways. Before I get to its facts, falsehoods, and assumptions, let's start with one of the problems involved in citing it as a source on history: it's written by a retired veterinary nurse. I'm sure that Debbie Graham (retired veterinary nurse) has done many wonderful things in her career. I'm reasonably sure that we'd be in sympathy politically, and would get along if we found ourselves on the same protest line or weekend hike. But uh. As a set of historical claims, this is egregious.
For one thing, it is either disingenuous or breathtakingly stupid to take the wolf as a stand-in for "the environment," full stop. The wolf is the most culturally iconic predator of the western world. At the risk of seeming flippant: the wolf, which lives in a cave and eats 10,000 sheep per year, is an outlier adn should not have been counted. There are good essays about what is going on with the wolf in literature and culture, both in the Middle Ages and beyond, in this book, via @jstor.
Was there hostility toward wolves in the European Middle Ages? Sure. Arnaud, a fourteenth-century French peasant, is famously on record as a heretic because he concluded that wolves were not created by God. (But... everything is created by God, said a presumably very frazzled member of the clergy. That's kind of a big deal.) Arnaud, however, was a shepherd, and he stuck to his story: God was good, wolves did nothing but eat sheep and lie. Evil. Therefore of the devil. QED. Arnaud eventually conceded that the devil could not create things and that even wolves were created by the Almighty.
Anyway. There are just a shocking number of fallacies and errors in that article. It wants to claim that wolves were hunted to near-extinction by the Normans, while also pointing out the ways in which the Normans placed limits on hunting. The article also conflates the rhetorical/literary wolf (enemy of sheep, humans, Good Things Generally) with the actual wolf, and claims that "This twaddle, when babbled from every pulpit, ensured that people believed that stabbing, beating, flaying, burning and poisoning wolves was good." From the bottom of my heart: what the fuck. I know what was "babbled from every pulpit" in medieval England. Greatest hits include:
the Virgin Mary has your back
pray regularly
do not play dice in the cemetery / in church / with money you don't have
be nice to your neighbor
consider that you are, in fact, sinful
do not be too anxious about your soul, though
yay, saints
do not have sex during Lent
...no seriously, we mean it, no sex during Lent
Anyway: there's not some weird pulpit-thumping anti-wolf brigade. The article claims that church and civic law permitted and rewarded killing of wolves. Common law in England? yes. Church law... I have never heard of such a thing, nor can I imagine any document saying "40 days off purgatory if you -- with the right spirit in your heart -- come hear a sermon, donate to the roof repair fund, or kill a wolf." In the immortal words of Benoit Blanc, it makes no damn sense.
The linked article writes of "things called fields, impounded [sic; not actually what that word means] by structures such as fences or hedges." I think the enclosure movement of the 14th-17th centuries (late medieval/early modern) can certainly be viewed as bad for the ecosystem of England. But that's about pasturage, not arable fields. Not coincidentally, it helped to fuel Robin Hood legends. Moreover, one can also find fenced-in fields in ancient Mesopotamia, Egypt, India, etc. Fields are not inherently colonialist.
You say you are pondering "when this type of mentality was developed in pre-modern Europe." My answer would be: it wasn't. A recent overview of environmental history in medieval Europe is this, examining sustainable practices and norms:
In this fascinating meld of history and ecological economics, the author uncovers the medieval precedents for modern concepts of sustainable
Also via @jstor, there's the open-access book The Green Middle Ages, which argues that "the green earth was a generally treasured,
indispensable and integrated component of life." It makes its argument, in my view, cogently and well. Full book here.
slightly chaotic tea session for 11 guests (my parents' students), with two teas: jasmine green tea pearls and the black/white tea blend that shall not be named. i burnt my finger with water overflowing from the new gaiwan, it's larger so i'm not used to pouring with it, but luckily i have a good poker face and nothing was dropped or spilled. we also ran out of teacups and i had to resort to random small glasses.
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Tell me how I'm supposed to focus on "important things" when sumer is icumen in lhude sing cuccu groweþ sed and bloweþ med and springþ þe wde nu sing cuccu sing cuccu
“Protestant” is often used as a catch-all, but it flattens the depth of protestantism. There are many types of protestants. Presbyterians. Lutherans. Baptists. Continental reformed. Methodists. The Society of St Pius X.
she is a princess and you are a dragon. she will be married tonight. do not keep standing outside of her room like that, go inside. go get her. that is what proper dragons do.
not that you have ever been a good or proper dragon. when you hatched out of your egg, your eggtooth was too smooth. the other dragons were rough with you, put little holes in your wings.
you were not bold. you were odd. you liked rippling water and the shine of chitin when bugs scuttle and of course the movement of the stars. those were all acceptable interests albeit maybe not traditional. perhaps you had inherited these through some great-great-uncle or something. certainly a dragon may be wise, or clever, if they are not bold.
yes, you have been a great deal of a puzzle to the other dragons. your body is smaller and rather more soft than it ought to be. so speed should have been yours, perhaps - your mother said it would be like fighting a shadow. if a dragon is not aggressive, it may instead be cruel, sly; a backstab. but alas your scales - so iridescent that they almost shine like the moon at night, a glow from within - you are not a shadow, you are a beacon like the flash of a knight's blade. your father has said at least you would make a fine egglayer, a nice mate to a good male. a dragon like you may still be a good mother perhaps; and that is a fine thing to be; although of course it would have been better if you'd been a trove-hoarder instead.
what a dragon must not be is kind.
you have watched her now for six moons. what a good and proper dragon would do is to go inside and to snatch her. a very proper dragon would have kidnapped her many times over, but you will be the delight of your brood to princess-snatch even at all. when you catch her in your jaws and bring her home, they will love you, then. they don't think you're capable of it, but you are, because you're a proper dragon. you can show them that. if you go in, now, right now.
you are rather too glossy to hide in the shadows, so instead you have learned how to appear flat and round, a puddle of light. (how your siblings would mock you! a dragon should be matte, to blend with the night). you dapple your flank with mud. you perch in odd angles atop of trees, scuttle like the bugs you love - hither, tither, frantic.
what you must not do is fly with your wings full-out. alight, you will be limned by the moon's corona. you will be a beacon. you must remember this when (not if) you snatch her.
____
you found her because of the lake. this lake in particular was your favorite - nestled deep in the woods, between two mountains. it is very quiet; there is nothing to horde there so no other dragon bothers you. a gentle waterfall spills over into a deep cove, and there are many mossy caves you've spent your afternoons napping in. while it is not proper for a dragon to prefer such things, you like to lay in rolling tenure just under the water. you have become excellent at holding your breath, can do it for hours. it is the easiest way to appear as a patch of sunlight.
she was not sunlight. she was the night's joy. the dark press of water. her face at first concealed by many diaphanous layers. her breathing quick and quiet.
she had pulled them back to drink from her water flask. and there she had been: a princess. your first very-real princess. right there, only the reach of a single talon from you. if you had simply lunged then, you would have been able to take her easily, in one single movement.
but you did not take her.
she had startled you a bit; you'd been daydreaming about music, which you'd just discovered, and rather liked. you'd heard it from a little house while you snuck in and stole their sheep.
but you knew the sound of fear, of being followed. you'd been chased too many times, you knew what it looked like. the rapid jolt of fear.
you smelled her then; cinnamon and onyx, and perhaps that was what had blinded you. perhaps your mouth was just watering. whatever the case, you waited until she had fled back into the forest; and then you waited a bit longer. in her wake, a garrison of men, their hands rough.
oh. so they were not knights. they were just men chasing a young woman through the woods. perhaps they did not even know a real princess had been running from them. well, that was a relief. you are not good at fighting with knights, who have swords instead of cudgels. these were just men, so you rose from the water in the quiet way you'd learned from the fish. they did not hear you coming.
and besides. proper dragons do violence so well.
___
once you had smelled her you could find her, although such things have always been easier for you than for the others. you spend a great deal of time studying things - it allows you to analyze them. you have tried to explain to the other dragons that sometimes it is best to slow down, but of course no dragon should be slow.
at first you did not understand the confusion of the people's umwelt. they relied so much on their communication (only words and actions!) and what they could see with their eyes. you and the other dragons did not use these as much; but you liked prying out the little sonic differences between hello that means "i like you" and hello that means "i don't like you."
so it took you a while to learn that you were responsible for what had happened to her. men had gone missing, and even bad men going missing makes a big fuss. (you know that if it had been girls missing, it would be okay. many proper dragons steal girls because it will not bring a knight to their door). for a while she had been trapped on the palace grounds. it was determined that it was no longer safe for her to be just a princess, she must undergo some human transformation and become a wife.
even so. you had gone looking for her (only to study, of course, so you may know how to snatch her best). but that night you saw her descending from the window of a castle, quick and agile, moving like a whisper, clad almost entirely in black. you could see her quite well of course, although you were not seeing her; but instead her heat and her smell and her sound and all the other sensory noise all humans give off.
you followed her, keeping yourself in a cloud so you appeared as if mist. she stole off into the woods. you were interested in that, and watched her scuttle - although of course you could have taken her then, you wanted to study your prey as best as you could. she did not seem to do much in the woods, only run around cry into her little hands.
she appeared to be looking for something. she did not get far that first night; scurried back to her bed. over and over this happened - she would run as far as she could, only to go back again. it seemed rather boring to you, but of course you had been free your whole life.
and then one night - finally, she arrived at the lake. she sank to her knees then, her hands pressing into the water. her head tilted to the sky. her dark hair spilling in a caught breath behind her.
this is how you heard her voice for the first time. when she came again the next night, she did so more quickly, more assured. straight to the lake, as if it had called her.
she had skipped a pebble over the surface of the water. this action was dangerous, because it almost hit the sail of your wing. you had structured yourself very finely to look like a rockslide.
"three months." her voice was like her: it was deep and smooth and dark, a low violin string. "they want me to marry that bastard in three months."
and then she cried into her hands again, and the sound of it almost broke you.
you followed her maybe more than a proper dragon should, after this. more than just back to the castle and her bed. you hid along her daily walks and watched her in the throne room and saw her out riding horses. she was good with dogs and nice to her people and very much a proper princess, although you had heard it said a proper princess ought not to slip out at night and run around barefoot through the woods.
you discovered she is terrible with directions. you have often had to make a path more clear so she could get home again. she cannot hunt better than an egg; you have had to kill fish and push them subtly up to the shore.
but she appears to love the lake as much as you do. you have seen her read by candlelight (how foolish. the entire woods saw her each time). you have seen her build little paper boats to float along the surface. you have seen her strip her many layers and dive in, have seen her lay with her belly to the sky, floating like she is suspended by the hands of darkness itself.
oh. so she loves the stars, as well, then.
__
you must go in. she will be married tonight. that is a human thing, but you have since learned what it has meant. she will go to somewhere else, and you will not see her again, maybe ever. and then how will you be a proper dragon? go!
you have made yourself in the form of a gargoyle, hiding in the white stone. you can see into her room; and the tapestries that seem unlike her. everything in her room is very bright, which is bad for a proper dragon. there are many knights in the hallways and in their rooms, and their smell is itchy and repugnant to you.
her dress is white, which does not seem like her. you have only seen her wear black. she is sitting at some kind of desk, and she is crying again. she smells of cinnamon still, but moreso of grief. you can feel the heartbreak in her as if it was inside of you.
you cannot watch her cry anymore. you have watched too often without moving. that is shameful.
you nose the door open. you can move quiet, because you are not very big. she is within a cave of you, then a wingtip, and then she is standing up, looking into your eyes.
"it's you." her hand on your jaw is warm. "i thought i was imagining you, you know. i turned around that day. i saw what you did to those men. i have been looking for you since. i told everyone that i had an angel to protect me. they locked me in here anyway."
you are not an angel, you are a dragon. you have to keep your wings locked tight or you would explode the walls of this place. it makes you feel big, suddenly. you are not used to that sensation. you do not like to be locked in a tower. you believe maybe the princess does not like to be locked in a tower either.
you take her in your jaws. she is very small, and does not resist you. although you are not a strong flyer, you must take off in a single push. any other movement would be too slow. you must also hold your breath so you do not smell her, the clove and cinnamon and little bird of hope. your mouth would water and you would drop her.
against the full moon, you do the thing that is impossible. you stretch yourself out all the way, a bold and beaming arrow, and you fly. you can hear them cry about you now, loudly. a banner that would strike pride even into your father: dragon. dragon. dragon.
on the eve of her wedding, you snatch the princess from her tower.
an arrow whisks for you, and then dozens, and then hundreds. you are not afraid of pain. you have learned long ago how to fly with holes in your wings. you hold her very gently still, and you push past the smell of your blood.
in the night you are a star. someone somewhere could look up and see you and make a wish.
there will be another lake, you decide. you can find another lake. somewhere very, very far from here. however long you must fly, however long you must hold your breath: you will take her home, because you are a proper dragon.
___
sometimes they come for her, your treasure. you have built her a little castle here, deep in the forests off the map. and of course for you: a silver round lake like the shift of her iris. you bring her books and she brings you bugs to study. you let her saddle you, and together you ride through the clouds and fog banks. she is a shadow on your back; a warm and velvet thing. she makes you music and lives the way she should; free in the night like a promise.
but they do come. you have stolen a real princess, and they do not want her to be a princess. they want to make her into a brood mother, or into bait, or into prey. they always look into the caves first; into the places proper dragons stay. they are real knights, not just men with sticks. they are loud and their smell still makes you itch.
but she has made you brave now, and cunning. if a dragon is not big, it should be cunning. and since you are a proper dragon, and since your treasure is your most precious thing, you lay in wait.
let them come. you will let the light drip off of you, and then you will pour through them.
afterwards, your princess will tell you a story around the fire. she will patch your wounds as she did that first time. she will sing to you.
and in that moment, neither of you will be a title nor a story. she will just be herself, and you will just be you.
Chewbacca is buck wild as a character concept but so ingrained in the cultural canon that the full absurdity of him is often overlooked. Here's a middle-aged 200 year old space fellow who's eight feet tall with a full body perm, naked except for a bandolier he never uses, knows the local lingua franca but exclusively communicates by screaming and growling in his own language, has adopted Harrison Ford as a pet, will rip your arms out of their sockets if you beat him at chess. Go into any dog park and you'll bump into at least one mutt bearing his name. Roger Ebert despised him. In 1997 MTV gave him a Lifetime Achievement award.
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The sock progresses, and a fit test confirms that it fits. Maybe slightly short between the toe and gusset increases, but we learn. (I just did short rows at the back of the heel, shhh)
early June 2026 - this one is for the fiber people! @birchwood-path and all the other inspiring folks making stuff out there!
Spindle-Whorl, terracotta, early bronze age, Kumtepe Turkey
Spindle-Whorl, terracotta, early bronze age, Troy 1 (2920-2550 BCE)
Weaving loom and textile production.
This illustration is currently tripping me out b/c I just saw this post by @aeide and it looks ??? just like this ??? complete with the little weights or whatever at the bottom??????????
Troy and Textile Production in Anatolia
The history of textile production in Anatolia dates back to the Neolithic Age, with the transition to settled life and the start of production, and the domestication of wild sheep and goat, making the procurement of raw materials easier. Textile production does not change much in the Chalcolithic Age. But during the Early Bronze Age, we see an increase in the number and variety of spindle whorls and loom weights in Anatolia and Troy. Among the reasons behind the development are the introduction of plant fibers such as flax in textile production, and the overall rise in production due to an increase in the variety of raw materials available. Spindles and such devices were used to spin fibres into yarn. The spindle was composed of a wooden rod bulging in the middle with pointy heads, and a spindle whorl attached on the end of the rod, providing weight to ensure the yarn is spun properly. The device placed on top of the spindle whorl is called a spinner.
There were two types of looms, the horizontal loom and the vertical loom. Vertical looms were used primarily in Western Anatolia and Greece and the Mediterranean basin in general. A vertical loom makes use of loom weights to maintain the tension on the warp threads to keep them from tangling up. A vast number of loom weights were uncovered at Early Bronze Age and Middle Bronze Age layers of Troy, and the 2nd millennium BCE settlements of the islands of Crete and Thera. Such finds demonstrate that production was systemic in the Aegean region during the 2nd millennium BCE. The sheer number of textile tools such as spindle whorls, loom weights, reeds and quills uncovered particularly in the buildings of Troy, attests to the importance of textile production at the time. Textile production was carried out either in a specific room of a house called the "weaving room" or at the settlement structures known as the "workshop building".
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And we're done with the stitching on my Goldwork and Silk Betta fish!
Next up will be to paste the back, let it dry, and then get it off the frame to be mounted up. I'll be going with the same frame as my other fish, so you'll be able to see all the dimensions of the padding. Especially with the difference in regular light vs studio lighting.
(This was supposed to take most of the summer... and then hyperfixation took over 😅)
Child's Pullover (Fair Isle, c. 1913), Shetland Museum & Archives.
During a visit to Fair Isle in the summer of 1913, the Reverend [Robert Logan] and his wife Annie purchased the pullover for [their son] John from one of the island’s knitters. The garment is a good example of the type of traditional knitting done in Fair Isle for at least a century before, and prior to the global fashion boom in fair isle-style garments for men and women in the early 1920s
The pullover is made of white hand-spun wool, most likely from sheep born and raised on Fair Isle. The colours are somewhat typical of the earliest phase of the craft: red, dyed from madder or a mixture of madder and several local dye sources; very dark blue, a strong indigo dyebath that required dipping and oxidation numerous times; medium blue, from a weaker indigo dyebath; yellow, made from various native plants; and natural white.
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