Dyeing yarn is a process with several steps along the way. Just when we think we're finished, we come to what may be the hardest part - naming the colorway.
We have a new colorway that we want to release to the world. It's all set to go except for one minor detail - it needs a name. It's like going through pregnancy, labor and delivery. You can't introduce your new baby to family and friends without a name. Well, I did that with one of my kids. It was well over a week before she had a name. So far she hasn't shown any ill effects from her days of namelessness.
But it's different with yarn - we really do need a name. We have to label and identify it. Some yarn companies take the easy route and assign numbers. Mona and I discussed this in the beginning and decided to take the time to name all of our colorways.
I love playing with words, looking up various meanings and derivations, bouncing possible options off family members. Mona and I solicit ideas and suggestions from anyone and everyone. We've even been known to ask relative strangers for input.
Naming colors takes a certain creativity and investment of time. We want to observe the yarn in different lighting situations. Trust me when I tell you the lighting conditions in the Baltimore Convention Center are not conducive to accurate name selection. Indoors, outdoors. Where's the Ott-Lite?
Some names are clever and creative. Some names are descriptive and utilitarian. Some names are whimsical and magical. And some names are just plain lame. I admit that at one time we had a colorway named blue. I blame sleep deprivation for that one.
Given our sometimes less-than-accurate name choices, it's reassuring when there's evidence to support spot-on name selection.
The flower iris. Again, courtesy of my neighbor's yard. I think it's a match.