. . . as my head has been buried in books, eyes glazed over by web searches, and fingers meticulously measuring my garden drawings. I am planning for the production of color: a dyer's garden.
I am dreaming of dyes.
Tannins.
Mordants.
A new vocabulary is creeping into my head. One that is saturated in history, ancient worlds, wealth and subsistence, high culture, and craft. In familiarizing myself with the art of dyeing, I am rediscovering the unimaginable magnetism of plants with purpose.
This topic, dyeing with plants, is extremely--and accidentally--fascinating to me. My love of plants began with herbs, and the idea that plants could be incredibly USEFUL to people: health, magic, beauty, gastronomy. But fiber and dyeing was never something on my radar. Until . . . .
. . . a friend approached me about contributing my horticultural skills at The Hudson Valley Fiber Farm. A local fiber CSA (the first of it's kind), the HVFF raises sheep and goats for wool. Their animals produce supremely soft fleece that I would like to drape my world with. My first instinct was to suggest a dye garden. What else? From this garden, we will develop a dye program for their wool using natural dyes from plants grown on-site. Brilliant.
So, here I go, off to wade knee-high through observations of novice dyers to ethnobotanical research. Truly, the most valuable information will come from the days spent outside, from the plants we will grow, and the from the dye pots we will peer into. Here is where I will share what I've found useful, helpful, indispensable . . . as well as all the progress, missteps, and epiphanies along the way.
Looking forward to spring-swollen soil where I may being to cultivate colors.
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