There comes a point in making things when curiosity becomes more persuasive than caution.
I had a crocheted mug rug made from my own Polwarth handspun. It was perfectly serviceable as it was.
So naturally, I put it in the washing machine.
Not because something had gone wrong.
Because I wanted to know what would happen.
The Experiment
The original piece began with 25 chains and was crocheted in the Tunisian stitch into a simple rectangle.
The plan was to deliberately full it: let heat, water and agitation encourage the wool fibers to grab onto one another, shrinking the fabric while making it denser and sturdier.
I knew it would get smaller.
What I didn’t know was how much smaller. How much more dense? Will I still be able to use it?
That’s one of the interesting things about working with wool. You can understand what the fiber is supposed to do, but eventually you have to let the actual wool answer the questions.
So into the laundry it went.
Out Came A Different Fabric
After washing, the mug rug measured about 4 x 6 5/8 inches.
The individual crochet stitches had softened into the fabric. The surface was denser. The whole thing felt less like a piece of crochet and more like a small piece of wool cloth.
And it worked.
A mug fit. There was even room left for a spoon.
But if we’re being reasonable-and apparently we’ve decided to start doing that-it could stand to be a little larger.
A mug rug ought to have room for the mug, the spoon and whatever small baked good has volunteered to accompany the coffee.
So We Try Again
The next one starts bigger.
Instead of 25 chains, 30.
That’s the part of making that I love: the first piece doesn’t have to be wrong for the second one to teach you something.
Make the thing.
See what it does.
Change one variable.
Make the thing again.
Of course, changing the wool means changing another variable whether I intended to or not. Different breeds and blends don’t necessarily full at the same rate, and fibers such as silk or bamboo can change the behavior of the finished fabric.
So 30 chains isn’t a formula.
It’s another experiment.
From The Workbench
There will eventually be finished pieces, photographs, measurements, listings, and all the tidy information that belongs with them.
This isn’t that part.
This is the part where there’s wool on the table, something slightly experimental in the washing machine, and a notebook nearby because we’re probably going to want to remember what happened.
Welcome to the Workbench.
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