It's time for the winter break - I wish you all happy holidays with some time to spare to do the things you enjoy, and a good start into a happy, healthy year 2026.  May you find some peace and quiet, too, as needed! (The little cat certainly has this part down pat.)

I will be off the shop and blog until January 7. Thank you for reading here - and see you again next year! 

The last bills have been paid, there's been some sorting done here and there, we even managed to squeeze in a coffee meet-up with an errand. I'm all caught up with the orders and almost caught up with the to-do list of things to get done before the summer break. 

As usual, there's lights out there, some brighter, some not so bright, same applies to what I'd see as tasteful or not, but overall I still, well, quite like it.

I also like the smells of the season - that of mulled wine, and oranges, and roast chestnuts. It's lovely to sit down in the afternoon to have hot tea with Stollen or Plätzchen. (And, of course, the traditional christmas market Currywurst!) 

There's a lot of things that are more or less traditional in our household around this time of year, some only by the fact that we do it every year because we enjoy it. (Which is, actually, the best of all reasons to have a tradition.) One of the traditions that has been there since I can remember, though, we'll pass on this year: Having a decorated tree at my parent's place.

Usually, there was a (real) tree bought before Christmas, as is quite common in Germay; typically a quite small one so it would fit a specific place and quite often one that was a little crooked. The most important bit, though, was that it had branches that got shorter quickly enough toward the top - because we always had real candles on it. That got a bit more difficult in the last years, as trees these days are grown to be compact and bushy. You don't need spaced-apart branches with nothing above the still-strong-and-stable part where you can put the candle holder if you are using electrical candles, and that has been the norm for, oh, many years now in Germany. Actually, my parents were already rather oddly old-fashioned in this regard, and I was one of very few classmates already in elementary school who'd have a tree with real candles at home.

For me, this is one of the special "Christmas at my parent's house" things. Real candles have their own charm, and bring their own special smells, and I have always loved them. They make a lit tree much more special, too, as you don't just turn the lights on on a whim, or for a few minutes of hanging out in the room. (That is also something that can be considered a downside - usually you only enjoy the lights for a limited time, the hour or so that they burn, and then the tree is dark again.)

Since my dad has declining health, though, we decided to not have a tree this year - mostly not to add the extra work of putting away all the tree decoration and getting rid of the tree on top of my mum's workload. (The putting up and decorating, we'd be there to help, but not for the other part.) As a stand-in, we have a small wooden cutout tree with LED lights that is easy to put up and take down, has no danger of catching fire, and that my mum can carry to wherever they can see it best. So we will see, this year, if that is an agreeable solution for all of us.

A little part of me is a little sad about this decision, but I know it was a good thing to do. And if I miss it too much, or someone else in the family does, we can always change things again next year, and maybe find a solution for the putting away problem, too. Traditions are, after all, there to give us stability and something to look forward to, things we enjoy and wait for - and not extra burdens that are more trouble than fun at some point...

A few days ago, I was told about a thing called "Kneipensingen für alle" (pub singing for everyone). Because, well, lots of people like singing, but there's not always the opportunity. 

Two musicians started this in Bamberg, and the idea is that they bring their instruments, provide the texts, and then there's a wild selection of songs where everybody sings along. There's no pressure to sing very nicely (or even always hit the notes), it's just to, well, have fun singing.

This has been happening in Bamberg for a few years now, and it has spread to Erlangen (or, more precisely, the duo also does it in Erlangen now, too). Well. 

Being someone who also likes to sing, but doesn't always hit all the notes, I am intrigued... and will be checking this out. The friends who told about this event also said that there's probably going to be some Xmas-themed singing, as it's the season. I am, thus, very much looking forward to Friday evening!

This is one of these days when it's grey outside, not really freezing but very far from pleasant winter weather. The cat purrs on my arm (making it a little harder to type, but, eh, I am used to that), there's some things that I should work on but I feel more like curling up under a blanket with a nice hot cup of something, and regarding the blog post (which is also on the to-do list) - I have no idea whatsoever on what to blog.

A few more days before the winter break, a few more packages to send, and possibly one more baking session (I have found out that a lot of the Spekulatius I made have a crack and now tend to break apart, so I might take this as an excuse to make more. And coincidentally try out my new pattern blocks. Maybe.

First, though, I have to make a rough plan for a presentation planned for January, and pay the year's last invoices. All with the little cat's warm assistance, at least!

Well. With 2025 almost done and dusted, it might be time to do a little review, right? 

The year started with a knitalong for a scarf pattern that I had made for Margit from Alte Künste. Then I was off for a very short stint to Padova, taking part in a training school as the "Spinning Station". That was great fun, and I especially enjoyed seeing Karina Grömer herd the participants around when it was time to change stations. (You need someone to do the herding, and she was, unsurprisingly, super at this.)

There was an online sewing workshop, this time spread over two evenings instead of taking place in one fell swipe, erm, one long go. 

February also got me the opportunity to meet the people behind the organisation and planning of the Projekt "Wirksam" - looking at networks formed through marriages in the late Middle Ages and early modern time. (Link to website in German only.) This later resulted in a bit of sprang for me to work, as I was tasked to do a cap based on the Lengberg sprang cap as part of the exhibition series.

 There was an online spinning workshop as well. There were also elections here in Germany in February, and before those, a number of demonstrations in hopes of some changes in polititcs toward the better. Ah well. 

There was a conference about silk and other shiny fibres in March, where I got to meet some lovely new colleagues from other discipilines and places, and another online spinning workshop. Even more zoom workshops in April, but that time it was individual trainings. I got to do not just one, but two stints in Switzerland, teaching, in the past year - in different places and for a different audience, but they were both great to do (and one even made it possible for me to hang out a bit with family living in Switzerland). 

The little cat fell quite ill in May, and we had a good scare about her, but fortunately it was "only" a really bad eye infection that could be treated. It led, once more, to speculations about her real age (and everyone agrees that it's hard to tell, but at least 20) and also to a diagnosis of her not only being a little overweight but also having hyperthyroid. So the little cat now gets medicine that she deems so delicious it has replaced part of her daily treats, but has to pay for that twice-daily delight with more frequent and regular visits to the vet for checkups of her thyroid levels.

There was another workshop on textile archaeology that I was delighted to attend in June, and then it was already almost time for the summer break. Right before that, I had an Instagram Live with Margit, where our test went utterly well and smoothly and then I didn't get back in on the Live when we wanted to start well and proper. (Next time, we'll just stay online and make small talk until it's time to start!)

We had a lovely time cycling in Denmark as our summer holiday, and brought back quite a tan in spite of putting on sun protection every day. The Danish seem to love the sun so much that there's really not too much things offering shade, or at least that was our impression.  

There was only a single wool festival on the agenda last year, and that was the Wollcraft-Festival where I had no stall, but several spinning workshops. And of course, the end of August always sees me starting the prep for the Textile Forum in November in earnest - planning and organising the schedule and workshops, and figuring out what needs to be bought, built, or otherwise procured for that week. So with the trip for the second workshop in Switzerland in September, the conference in Clermont-Ferrand (where I got to see the distaff from Martres-de-Veyre), and a bit of time off for the games fair in Essen, the time until November was actually rather, um, hectic. 

I did manage to get everything together in time for the European Textile Forum at the start of November, and after that week of madness, I took a week off to relax... which almost brings us to today. 

There was a podcast with Kaptorga as well (German only), I read another story for Cast of Wonders (my seventh!), and there were a few additions to the things offered in the online shop - Roman style spindles, Roman-era rigid heddles made from bone, and new silk colours, to name the most recent. 

So - quite a full year, and not an unhappy one overall. I am already looking forward to the next one, where exciting stuff has been lining up for a bit now as well. We shall see what it will bring!

Hard to believe, but another year of blogging has gone by. With, admittedly, a few blog breaks - but for a little internet corner where someone keeps writing, holding out for seventeen years is not that bad.

Sometimes it does feel like I've written about everything at least twice, but fortunately, there's new books and new conferences coming out every little while, and there's always cat pictures.

Or... cake pictures.

It's also not so very little is happening in my life as well, but I'm not always getting around to blogging about all the things at longer length. (I'm planning to do a proper look back on the last year, but that does merit its own blog post, I think.)

Anyway - thank you for stopping by, thank you for reading, and for commenting! A blog that's not being read is just a slightly weird monologue, after all... 

By pure chance, I stumbled across a video by Sally Pointer yesterday, and it led me to the wonderful discovery of an 18th century trinket - the bergamot box. Just in case this holds no meaning at all to you: Bergamot is a citrus fruit with a rather thick rind, and in the 18th century, some people (in the region of Grasse, if we are to believe the Musée du Parfum) used the rinds of these bergamot fruits to make little boxes. Basically they are taken off the fruit, turned inside out, shaped, dried, and then "covered with cardboard" which I'd suspect means like a papermaché layer, and finally painted. 

You can find images of one example here, dating to the 18th century. There's probably lots more hidden in some museum databases, but unfortunately "bergamot" is one of the words that are hard to search-engine-search, as you get flooded with ads for perfume and, to a lesser extent, Earl Grey Tea. They look beautiful, and I had not the slightest inkling that this was A Thing in the past. Or even that it was possible!

But now for the fun part: Sally's video. Good thing that it's orange season here now!