Dye-ing to tell you

Quite some time ago I saw India Flynt's book Eco Colour: Botanical Dyes for Beautiful Textiles in a bookstore.  I was intrigued by it, but didn't buy it since I was traveling and the book is fairly large and cumbersome.  And, besides I thought, I really don't like this mottled effect of muted colours.  I like the vibrants clear colours of flowers and the rainbow.

But that changed.  It really is amazing how ones taste does change when one starts do dye with natural materials.  I have come to a new appreciation of greeny yellows, browns and grays.  And my preference for evenly dyed yarn and fabric... Completely gone.  I now love the mottled, splotsy (I guess that's not a word) effect that can be achieved with natural materials.  I decided to try some eco dyeing the other day.  I started with an old not-very-white-anymore-t-shirt and then progressed onto a silk scarf that I had bought especially to try to do some eco dying.

I loved the whole process.  Picking leaves and flowers and arranging them onto the fabric, wondering which leaves would leave a mark and how they would look.  Admiring the wonderful colours, knowing that the end result will be completely different from the original composition.  Choosing a branch, wondering which wood would give what effect, and then rolling the fabric onto the chosen branch, tightly.  Tying the  whole thing into a tight bundle hoping that the branch would fit the largest pot, which of course it didn't since I didn't measure before I sawed it.  I didn't steam, I boiled the whole lot.  Wonder if the effect is different that way.  Probably.  Add rust water.  Is that too much or too little?  Have I ruined the whole thing?  Then the difficult time to wait for a while.  I've read some people wait for weeks and months.  What are they made of?  I waited an hour and it was difficult.  And whooo!  What fantastic result.  I love the way the scarf turned out.  Those wonderful patterns that I wasn't aware that I was creating.  I really, really like the effect.

I also loved the t shirt immediately.  Wore for dinner the same day.  And also wore it work.  And then proceeded to dye some more.  The next one was confiscated by a daughter.  That's a compliment, I'm sure.  Then I gave her a few old t's to take on a camping trip around the country.   She wants to gather plants where they stop to camp and arrange them onto the fabric and make a bundle which she'll boil when she gets a chance.  Adding rusted nails and old twigs all adds to the final result.  It'll be exciting to see what she comes up with since they are driving around the whole island and she will be picking plants in very different locations.

This is so easy to do and my shabby old t's look really respectable when they have been through this process.  No longer gray and dingily, they look like works of art.  I'm hooked.  I almost threw out some of my old t shirts and now I'm Google-ing "t-shirts in bulk".  I can't get enough of dyeing them.  I run out to the garden and pick whatever takes my fancy and arrange it carefully.  That part is tranquil and serene.  Tying it up is fun, the the marks usually show and make some pattern.  Then I have to wait to see what emerges.  I have one waiting right now.  I dyed that in avocado skins which gives a lovely dusty pink colour.  Then I put leaves on it and boiled it for an two hours or so.  I put some rust water on it and some copper water also (that is poisonous, but I'm careful) to get some effects.  The rust water produces the grays and blacks, the copper water enhances some green colors from leaves.  Both act as mordants, along with the tannins in the tree branch.  But all very unpredictable in combination with the different leads and flowers.

I can't wait any longer.  I'm unrolling the bundle.  It's all excitedly mottled and splotsy (that should be a word even if it isn't) and I'm sure it's the best one yet.

The Bigger Picture

Most people, when they look at landscape, look into the distance. They admire mountains and waterfalls, glacier, rivers and geysers.  The big stuff.  I was taught differently.  My parents would always concentrate on the details.  Their noses as close to ground as possible, they would walk across the landscape with their tiny loupes in hand.  And that is how I learned to appreciate the country and I sometimes wonder: Which is the bigger picture?

I went up to the north last weekend for a gathering-of-the-clan-thing.  In this case it was the descendants of my fathers grandmother and grandfather on his mother's side that gathered at the old farm, Svanshóll  (Swanhill) in Bjarnarfjörður (Bearfjord).  The last time we were there was in 2006 when my father came with us to celebrate his fathers centenary.  Later that year my father passed away, so that trip was very special.

I have been wanting to come back, so this opportunity was welcome.  I wanted to go to spend some time in the fantastic landscape, look for lichens which I knew are abundant in that area and even gather some.  And I did.

How to explain this purple stain on a rock?  One might think that someone took a felt tip pen and colored the stones.  There were a several purple stains on the rocks.  What they all had in common was that, on closer inspection, one could see at its middle a rather battered lichen (of the type Umbilicaria).  Well, I can only surmise that some bird left it's dropping on top of a lichen and the ammonia in combination with the oxygen developed that fantastic purple colour.  I know that purple can be obtained from this lichen and now I've seen it happen spontaneously in nature.  I wonder if this is how our ancestors discovered lichen dyes.
Umbilicaria proboscidea.  At first glance the rocks seem to have black flecks on them.  Then, when one looks more closely, one notices that it is lichens.  That there are more than one species of Umbilicaria isn't evident until one looks even closer.  U. proboscidea has the distinctive raised, white navel and black fruiting body.  U. arctica is larger and evenly colored and U. torrefacta is distinguished by having small holes in it's surface.
If one very carefully breaks away the thallus of the lichen, without taking the navel (the stem that attaches it to the rock) this lichen will continue to grow.  This way I managed to carefully gather some of the Umbilicaria which grew absolutely everywhere we looked.  I gathered at least three types, all quite common: Umbilicaria torrefacta, Umbilicaria arctica and Umbilicaria proboscidea.
Ochrolechia parella (I think).
A beautiful symphony of lichens.
Parmelia omphalodes (or saxatilis).
A fish head found in the grass.
I love the beaches in the north, full of driftwood from Russia, littered with old ropes and the odd shoe or boot and often you will find a small flock of sheep resting on the warm, black sands while Eider ducks swim with their young ones just a stones throw away.
That colour!
What texture!
The rhythm of the relentless sea.
I always stop at the churchyard to visit my grandmother's grave where she is buried with her two youngest daughter and the three other people who died with them in the avalanche that demolished my fathers home.
The gravestone
My older sister hasn't visited since she was about 6 or 7, so I took her to see Goðdalur (Valley of the gods), our grandfather's farm.  It is very remote.  The road is long and winding and very rough and we had to cross two rivers, one had a bridge, the other didn't.  Jeeps really are a necessity in this part of the world.
Goðdalur, the farm.
Quietly crumbling.
Eventually becoming a part of nature as everything must.
I miss my father.  I think he would have liked my interest in lichen. But this is how my sisters and I always remember my parents:  Together,  heads close, loupe in hand looking at some plant and discussing the details to be able to identify it.  Both of them have found new species of plants for Iceland.  I'm very grateful that they taught me to look closely at the world.  It really is only when one looks at the details that the bigger picture reveals itself.

Perfect and thick - Yoghurt revisited

It's been more the a year since I made my first yoghurt and I've been making it ever since.  That is just about every week to ten days.  The yoghurt that I make tastes somehow fresher than store-bought.  I have never liked unflavoured yoghurt.  It's always tasted way too sour, but when I make it myself I never sweeten it.  I just mix a bit of honey or strawberry-honey mixture and I love the way the crisp sour taste mixes with the sweet honey and tart fruit.

I think I surprised everyone that I was so diligent about the yoghurt making and baking sourdough bread, which I also do every week or so.  I think it's because I just feel so good after eating my own.  I can't imagine being without it.

I've just started a new diet called GAPS.  The whole idea is that our gut is damaged and lets through large molecules into the bloodstream which cause the body to make antibodies and also that the bacterial flora of the gut is not good, so that we have too many harmful bacteria in the gut and they make toxins which also get into the blood and they cause all sorts of problems.  Neither grain nor dairy is allowed on this diet because they are hard to digest.  The diet starts with meat broth, boiled meat and vegetables, cod liver oil, Probiotics and yoghurt for those who can tolerate it.  Rather restrictive, but I'm prepared to try it.  I am lucky enough to be able to use yoghurt from day one.  Not only have I been eating yoghurt every day but I'm one of the lucky people who can digest lactose as are 95% of my country men.  This ability is a genetic mutation about 8000 years old, known in peoples of northern Europe and eastern Afrika.  So I have no plans to abandon dairy.

I have found a wealth of information on the internet about this diet and I particularly like this site, The Liberated Kitchen, where she has a page about the resources, for those who would like to know more.  I have started this diet because I am really tired of arthritis pain in my hands and I think I need to try something to make it better (other than painkillers).

But back to yoghurt.  The first time I made my own yoghurt I got a really good thick yogurt, so I thought, hey, this is easy and promptly made another batch that was very thin and runny.  Then I had a batch that had tiny hard grains in it.  So I thought I had better figure this out so that I could make the perfect batch every time.   This is how I do it.

I always use 1.5 - 2 liters of full fat milk.  For a while I experimented with adding cream to it and that produced very nice yoghurt, but it is more expensive.  So full fat, pasteurized og homogenized (can't get it any other way) but not ultra heat treated.  I would try fresh milk straight from the cow if I could.  I put this in a pot and put it on full heat on the stove.  I stir it pretty continuously as i monitor the heat with a thermometer.  When it reaches 180 °F / 85 °C I turn down the heat and hold this temperature for at least 5 minutes.  This is the best tip ever.  This is what makes the yoghurt thick and creamy.  Something about the heat and proteins, but the result is thicker yoghurt.

After holding this temperature for 5 minutes I plunge the pot into a bowl filled with ice cubes and water and stir the milk until it has cooled down to 110 °F / 42 °C.  Then I pour almost all of the milk into a large jar.  The small amount I pour into a glass and to this I add the yoghurt that I'm using as a starter.  This is usually what is left of my own.  Or, if I've been greedy, store bought fresh yoghurt.  I mix it with the milk in the glass, about 2 - 3 tablespoons, and then pour it into the large jar.  Then I mix the liquid in the jar by gently stirring.

I put the jar into my oven on a low setting and keep it overnight.  I find that 10 hours works very well for me.  Then I take it from the oven and put it in the refrigerator to cool down.  When it is cold I use a knife to stir it well and it is ready to eat.

I used to think this was so much hassle to make.  First I thought one would need a yoghurt maker.  Not so.  Wouldn't use one if I was given one.  It is much easier to use a jar.  Also I used to worry terribly about the exact temperature.  But it's not that precise.  I've heated the milk above the recommended temperature (although not to a boil) without any ill effects.  The important thing is that the yogurt bacteria thrives at temperature between 100-110 °F / 38-43 °C.  If it gets hotter the bacteria will die.  If it gets colder the bacteria won't do it's job till it's warm again.  So as long as one is careful about the temperature after the yoghurt is added, there is no problem.