Update 12/10/11: Unfortunately the National Trust today contacted me to say they have cancelled this year’s event due to the recent rain and condition of the fields.
On Sunday 16th Oct I’ll be at Acorn Bank near Penrith for their Apple Day fair. Last year I had a fanstastic time talking about scythes and mowing and hayrakes so this time I’ve arranged to do a mowing demonstration as well as having some of my greenwood work for sale. Hopefully despite the recent weather there will be some decent grass and I’ll convince a few more people to leave the strimmer in the shed and start enjoying cutting the grass.
Acorn Bank Garden
Temple Sowerby
Penrith
Cumbria
CA10 1SP
Date: 16 October 2011
Time: 11am – 4.30pm
Cost: Adult £6, Child £3, Family £15 (including National Trust members) Get directions
Last week I spent 3 days in Edale as a student on a spooncarving course organised by Robin Wood and taught by Swedish carver Fritiof Runhall. I’ve been carving spoons from green wood for 8 years, so when I first heard about the course I was intrigued but unsure what I would learn. During a visit in early summer, Robin talked me into signing up and I’m very glad he did. Many of you will already have read about the course on Robin’s blog Greenwood Carving so here I’ll just add my own impressions and experiences.
I arrived expecting to be inspired by beautiful craftsmanship and to spend a few days enjoying carving spoons in good company but what I hadn’t expected was to learn so much from Fritiof and his spoons. Right from the start there were new ideas and techniques that surprised, impressed and inspired me. It was very interesting just to watch him work, spot similarities in our techniques and try to emulate and learn from the differences.
To get a deeper understanding of Fritiof’s techniques and style I spent the days making copies of some of his work. Some of this took the form of completed spoons, some where just carvings of handle details. Not only will these act as 3-dimensional references of shapes with size and thickness but taught me much more about spoon carving and Fritiof’s use of bevels, notches and knifework than I would have got by drawing, photographing or even taking home the original.
One of the favourite items on show, and not for sale, was a little bowl carved with a cheeky animal head. I have carved some bowls with duck heads and like the idea of kitchenware with character so spent one morning carving one for myself. This first attempt was time-consuming but I could see how it is actually made up of some relatively simple forms with a layer of fine embellishment on top and I will definitely be carving some more items like this.
In between the course I had the pleasure of spending many hours chatting about spoons with Rob, Fritiof and Barn who was up from his new Bristol spooncarving base. I even managed to get in a conversation with with Fritiof about scythes as he not only mows but makes snaths and hayrakes too.
I’ll finish with a couple of photos of Fritiof’s beautiful spoons:
Last week, during the hottest days of the year, Christiane and I met up and spent a few days camping near Salisbury. I took along a small lump of the damson wood I’ve been working with and a spooncarving kit of axe and knives. Sitting together out in the fresh air making spoons is a lovely way to spend the day. Christiane did her first greenwood carving when we met in 2009 and has only recently started to carve more regularly so I’m impressed by how she works with the tools and wood. We work together, I demonstrate the different cuts and offer advice on the shape and then Christiane takes over. She is very observant and has a good eye which you can see in the final spoon.
We made a pair of spoons each with me trying out a couple of new design ideas and warming up for the spoon carving course I’m going on tomorrow. I’ll have 2½ days in Edale learning spoon carving techniques from Swedish carver Fritiof Runhal in the company of other greenwood workers from around the country. I can’t wait.
I got back last night from the second round of filming the mowing scenes for Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. While we were away somebody told us about that the filming had made the papers because of extras being supposedly underpaid. Read the article in the Independent here.
Well, I can understand that there should be a minimum wage for this kind of work the same as anything else but, to be honest I can’t imagine who of our group would have complained. Everyone I spoke with agreed that it was great fun and the pay was a bonus for the chance to mow together in a huge team of scythers. A lot of the time we just hung around in our false beards or peasant dresses soaking up the sun and atmosphere.
All the production team were helpful and friendly, and patient with our inexperience of the film industry and constant early-morning peening. Getting paid to hang out with friends, have a laugh and dress up as Russian peasants? No complaints here.
My skin-on-frame recovery kayak attracted a fair bit of attention as soon as I drove into the campsite at Ullswater with it on the roof of the car. I was suprised how many people remembered and recognised it from 2 years earlier when it was unskinned.
Straight away I had to start explaining that, even though it had been finished for 12 months, it’d never been in the water and I was just looking for someone to test it for me. Even once I’d explained that I don’t know how to kayak Richard, Dave and James insisted I be the first person in it on the water, lent me a jacket and life vest and promised not to let me drown. It did feel very exciting to carry the kayak down to the water knowing that this was the real moment of truth and I would find out whether it would actually work. Once I’d managed to get inside, using the paddle to balance I was grateful that Dave and Richard were there to stabilise things. The recovery kayak is designed for surf and manoeuvrability so it feels unstable for a complete novice like me but once I’d got back out Richard took over to show how it’s done and it was brilliant to see it properly in action.
I like peening for all sorts of reasons but one of my favourite aspects is the amazing rhythms which are created by several people peening scythes together. The hammering comes in and out of sync in a way I find really exciting. At lunchtime today Chris commented that it reminds him of the music of Steve Reich. I’d never heard of it before but have been listening mesmerised while I blog. Here is Evelyn Glennie performing ‘Clapping Music’ which is really reminiscent of peening. Listen while you read about the workshop.
Another great group of folk made for a fun and interesting day for this year’s scythe peening course. I was especially pleased that Jim and Chris came up from Cambridge and Hampshire respectively for the course.
We began with a discussion of why peening is important and how to judge when your scythe is in need of peening. Then it was on to practicals with a look at getting the setup right and choosing tools, particularly this year with respect to peening hammers which I’ve been exploring during the summer. Most people were familiar with the jig but had struggled with this turning up the edge of the blade. It’s a common problem which is easy to solve so we were able to speed through that and get on to the real fun and intrigue of freehand peening with the anvil. In a beginner’s mowing course there isn’t enough time to teach all the ins and outs of peening (it’s a lot to fit into one day on it’s own) and there’s really only so much you can get from reading a book or even watching a video. There were several ‘eureka’ moments during the day when I explained something that suddenly clicked the pieces into place such as the benefits of a cut-down hammer and getting the lighting right. I was learning too, techniques for corrective treatment for curled-over edges and coping with scythe blade edges which had become very thick through years of not peening. We made great progress through the day and everyone’s technique improved a huge amount, ready to go away and put in the practice with the foundation of the techniques and knowledge. We finished the day with some sharpening with whetstones. Once your peening is good this isn’t necessary but if you can still see light reflecting up off the scythe edge then it’s not sharp and some work with the whetstone is needed. That’s especially true with the jig but often forgotten or not mentioned when people demonstrate it’s use.
In all, a great day that passed in a flash, thanks to all who made it happen.
Way back in 2008, the guy I was working with asked me to go to the library and look for a book on currachs, Irish fame boats. Instead I found ‘The Aleutian Kayak’ by Wolfgang Brinck and fell in love with the photos of his willow-ribbed skin on frame baidarka. The simple technology in this lighweight but seaworthy craft is truly beautiful and I decided that I would make myself a greenland kayak.
The baidarka, a fast rocket of a kayak made for ocean journeys, calls for 15ft lengths of straight, knot-free timber which though maybe common in the US wasn’t available to me in Devon. So I decided instead to make my first project a ‘recovery kayak’ from ‘Building skin on frame boats’ by Robert Morris. This is a much smaller kayak, a modern interpretation of a traditional kayak used to recover seals shot from the shore.
At the time I was working in a small sawmill which focussed on sawing oak and western red cedar for the building trade. I kept my eyes open and, on spotting a clean board, snapped it up for milling into the dimensioned components. Very little wood is needed to build a kayak like this as the skeleton framework is so well designed for lightness and strength. Apart from the bow and stern blocks no glue, nails or screws are used. All the joints are morticed and pegged or lashed together using artificial sinew to give the kayak flexibility to absorb the shocks from the sea.
Designing a boat was something completely new for me and a really intersting challenge. A kayak is designed and built to it’s owner and the traditional measurements are all based on that person’s body: armspan, cubit and fist. Getting the right length and volume of kayak is crucial so the kayak is a close fit but with enough bouyancy.
The framework took 18 months of work on a casual, now and again basis. Of course it could have been made a lot quicker but I was not in a rush and savouring the process of the framework coming together. The ribs are steamed into shape while the masik (curved brace over the paddler’s knees) and cockpit coaming were steamed and laminated for strength. When making my paddle, a traditional unfeathered greenland pattern, I was on more familiar ground and carved from a single piece of cedar using axe, knife and spokeshave. Also during this time I thought I should learn to swim and took lessons in my local pool!
By the autumn of 2009 the framework was complete and I was living in Cumbria, working on a log cabin project. I was struggling with the book’s instructions on how to skin the kayak and searching online for advice when I came across a post on a forum for a Traditional Kayak Meet, in Cumbria – a whole weekend of people interested in building and paddling greenland kayak, and it was that very weekend. I quickly dashed off an email for details and late on sunday evening strapped my frame onto the car. Previously I’d thought I was the only person interested in these kayaks, I couldn’t find a club or shop that had even heard of them. It was a thrill to see so many greenland kayaks and baidarkas together and meet Richard, Bill and others who are so knowledgeable on the subject and have taken their kayaks paddling around greenland. They were very complimentary on my work so far, gave me plenty of advice and instruction on skins and I came away ready to tackle the next stage.
In a way it was a shame to sew the beautiful frame into it’s skin of ballistic nylon. Now complete it then stood in various sheds and barns for over a year. I’m not a kayaker and, despite the success of the swimming lessons, I’m a definite earth sign and much happier with my feet on solid ground. For me the pleasure was in the woodworking and creating this lightweight, elegant craft. At the same time I was curious to know how it would work and I got my chance just last weekend.
The Lyth Valley, close to where I live is famous for it’s damsons which are out at the moment. It’s a good year in terms of the crop but difficult harvesting, I’m told because of the wet weather.
I’ve used my own harvest so far to make jam and damson vodka and some wood from an earlier pruning to carve these eating spoons. I split them out radially so I get the colours of the heartwood and sapwood together in each spoon which makes them really stunning.
I made 7 from the log and I’m already using one. The others are £15 + £5 p&p. To order, please use the order form.
Our group of hay-tourists certainly drew plenty of attention from the local media. During the week we were photographed and interviewed by two newspapers and filmed by a local news station, an independent film-maker working with the festival organisers and Duna TV from Bucharest. All good publicity for the event and it’s aims to increase the number of people managing their haymeadows in this area.
Click here and skip to 14:35 to see us on Duna TV’s version of ‘Countryfile’.
I’ve been sent this poem by Neil Diment, community officer for the HayTime project in the North Pennines AONB. Neil was one of the participants on the Transylvania Haymaking Festival and writes, “Having, at long last, tried my hand at traditional haymaking I can perhaps now appreciate more the sentiments expressed in the poem.”
Haymaking
Their homage men pay to the mowing machine
Which does all the work of a dozen as one,
And, cutting a passageway smoothly and keen,
Keeps steadily on till its labor is done;
But I like to remember the primitive way
When I joined with my fellows to gather the hay,
And labor was pleasantly tempered by play.
The sweep of the scythe as it came and it went,
And the fall at its swish of the green crescent swath;
The swing of the mower with body well-bent,
As the steel gave him room on its pitiless path:
The pause for a moment each haymaker made,
When the grass clogged a little and progress was stayed,
And the clickety-click as he whetted the blade.
The farmer behind with the fork in his grip
To scatter the ridges of grass to the light,
Grim, busy and steady, no smile on his lip,
And a hope that the work would be over by night;
His glances were cast now and then to the sky,
And in fear that some sign of a rain storm was nigh,
He watched every cloud that went lazily by.
The fun of the nooning out under the trees
Where the dainties I mowed as my scythe had the grass,
Where I lolled back in hope of a puff of the breeze,
And saw the gay butterflies flutter and pass,
And laughed at some worn, but yet ever new joke,
And felt my heart beat with a trip-hammer stroke
When to her I loved dearly another one spoke.
The calm hush of noonday was pleasantly stirred
By the buzz of our voices, the noise of our glee;
And once in a lull cometh notes of a bird,
Undisturbed by our presence, far up in a tree.
We sat at our ease as we chatted and laughed,
While our mugs of cool switchel we carelessly quaffed,
And thought that Jove’s nectar ne’er equalled the draught.
But the frolic next day was the best of it all,
When in windrows they raked the dried grass as it lay,
The girls with us then—-there was one, Katy Ball,
Our neighbor’s fair daughter, who helped with the hay.
I wore her sunbonnet and she wore my hat—-
I dare say I looked like a great, awkward flat;
But what did I care at the moment for that?
For at night when we loaded our wains with the crop
Till they seemed like dark blots on a background of sky,
And Katy with me rode in one on the top,
What monarch in state was so happy as I?
With my darling, all blushes, enthroned by my side,
I sat there in tremulous pleasure and pride—-
Dear Katy! ah, black was the day when she died!
A wonderful thing is your mowing machine,
That sweeps o’er the meadow in merciless way;
But I sigh for the scythe, curved and tempered and keen,
And the labor and joy of the earlier day;
I sigh for the toil that was mingled with fun,
The contentment we felt when the end had been won,
And the sound, peaceful slumber when daylight was done.
The lush grass of Lehigh, it grows as of yore,
The hay smells as sweetly, the sun is as bright;
But all the old glory of hay-time is o’er,
And the toil of the season has lost its delight;
The scythe and the hay rake are hung up for show,
The fork gives the tedder its place in the row;
And gone are the joys of the loved long ago.
Thomas Dunn English (1819-1902)
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