The New Hudson's Bay Point Blanket Is Here!

Well, recently I realized that I needed to get all new bedding for the impending colder weather. So I got online and ordered it. And as of yesterday, it's all here. Flannel sheets. A new goose-down pillow. And first and foremost, a new Hudson's Bay point blanket.

There's nothing to compare with a Hudson's Bay blanket. Pure 100% wool. Heavy. Thick. I got a 4-point blanket (you can see the points, or indigo bars, right on top), multi-stripe, blue, yellow, red, green. There is just nothing to compare. Talk about warm on a cold winter night!

This is in fact the second treasured Hudson's Bay blanket I've owned. The first one, identical, I bought back in 1993, when I had just emerged, in my mid 30s, for the very first time in my adult years, from the poverty of student life. From then till now, I have slept with that blanket on my bed, in the summertime even when I can get away with it; relaxed beneath that blanket on the sofa; used that blanket for everything but a pup tent; and in general worn that blanket out until all the nap is completely worn off and the edges are frayed and unraveling beyond hope of repair. Sort of like Linus and his blanket! Yes, I had a special blanket when I was a kid; though oddly enough, it was not made of wool.


So the new Hudson's Bay point blanket takes its place on my bed. And the old blanket is retired to the cedar-chest genizah. I must confess, I have mixed feelings about this: that old blanket has served me well for years, and I've rather grown attached to it. But heft both blankets at once, and you can tell that the old blanket has lost half its weight or more to heavy wear. I'd guess the new blanket weighs at least six pounds.

By the way, these blankets have quite a history as an item sold and traded by the Hudson's Bay Company up in Canada, going back hundreds of years. Harold Tichenor's illustrated book on the history of Hudson's Bay point blankets is very much worth reading.


As for the new pillow, it's filled with goose down. Very comfortable, a real step up from the foam rubber or polyester fill or whatever horrific stuff the old pillow was filled with. And the flannel sheets are a wonder. Note those dark red ticking stripes! "Ticking stripes": learned a new term there, I never knew before what they were called, though I'm familiar with the design. Quite retro, somehow it reminds me of bedding or awnings or whatever from back in the 1920s or somesuch bygone era. Which, Selective Luddite™ that I am, suits me just fine.

Flannel Sheets and All

Yesterday it didn't get up out of the 50s. This morning I turned on the furnace in the house for the first time. Cooler weather is on the way. And that means I'd better get new winter bedding, pronto.

By the end of last winter, my flannel sheets were shot. I mean, worn out and ready for the rag bag. After many, many long years, my faithful old Hudson's Bay Company point blanket is also threadbare, unraveling. And my pillow, which I've had I don't know how long... well, best to keep it covered with a pillowcase, what's underneath is not exactly presentable. That pillow has got to go.

In short, I've got to replace purner everything on top of my bed. And sooner rather than later. Time to look around, and then order online.

Lewis & Clark Corps of Discovery Blanket

I got home from vacation late yesterday afternoon, and here at last is a picture of that wool blanket I ordered and received while on vacation.

See, while I was over in Wisconsin at my folks' place on vacation, my mom got a catalog in the mail, no idea how she got on their mailing list. Some Monticello catalog, everything having to do with Thomas Jefferson. That of course includes the Lewis & Clark expedition, and they had in the catalog several Lewis & Clark items, including this 100% wool blanket.

Well, I'd been looking for a new blanket for the wicker sofa in my living room— when I just flop out and crash there, don't you know— the blanket I've had on the sofa is some old ratty threadbare army blanket. When I saw this Lewis & Clark blanket, I knew it was just what I'd been looking for. The catalog said it was made by Pendleton, so I went online, found it even cheaper at the Pendleton website, and ordered it over my folks' computer. Several days later UPS delivered it, and I got to test drive that blanket, so to speak, the final week of vacation.

Very handsome and yet at the same time a marvel of simplicity. Heavy wool blanket. Off-white, says Pendleton; I'd say more like a light tan, or perhaps "camel" is the color-name I'm reaching for. Indigo stripe on each end of the blanket. Three "points" on one edge of the blanket, indicating size and trade value. Edges rough and unfinished, as was customary on blankets in those days. This is the kind of blanket which was widely sold and traded in North America by the Hudson's Bay Company and other outfits.

And you know me, I have a thing about wool blankets and all things woolen. There's something about wool which is honest, simple, natural, organic. Wool is just hippy-dippy back-to-nature. I use wool blankets even in the summertime.

One Wool Blanket Is Enough

Well, I think we're getting to the time of year when I could dispense with one of the two wool blankets on my bed. Don't you think? Don't you think I could take one of those blankets, and fold it up and store it away in the cedar chest until colder weather arrives again next fall?

And make do for the summer with only one wool blanket?

"Hey, Is That a Witney Five-Pointer?"

So yesterday I was down in Waukon, and I was wearing my new wool coat, and I stopped off at Pamida to pick up a few things. I had just paid at the cash register, and I was heading for the door, when I was accosted by a fellow, a perfect stranger, about my age, and about my size, and with an even scruffier beard than mine.

He said, "That shore is a nice big coat there. Hey, is that a Witney five-pointer?"

He went on, "I got me a coat made from a Witney blanket at home, somep'n like that. Well, shore enough, it's a five-pointer!"

We talked a while. Turns out he's a historical reenactor. He wanted to know if I was planning on attending the Rendezvous "down in Prairie." (Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, for those who aren't from this neck of the woods.)

Well, I'll be. Hadn't reckoned on my coat being quite that "recognizable."

Capote, Witney Point Blanket Coat, Wool Winter Coat

The new wool coat, custom made from a Witney point blanket, is here! Mr. FedEx Man pulled up yesterday morning and delivered a box, and I've been on cloud nine ever since. The latest of my imaginative ventures has come to fruition. With a lot of help from my Mom and her sewing skills.


This all got started a few months ago when I latched onto Harold Tichenor's wonderful book, The Blanket: An Illustrated History of the Hudson's Bay Point Blanket. Therein I learned that one of the chief uses of point blankets back in the old days was to make heavy wool coats, or capotes, such as were often worn by Indians, French voyageurs, mountain men, and whatnot.

Tichenor's book is full of old photos and paintings of people wearing capotes. Googling around online, I found more pictures. The mania began to seize me. The mania of having a capote of my own. Of all the pictures I ran across, the one that came closest to what I was envisioning was a picture (above) from the cover of the December 1930 issue of The Beaver, the official journal of the Hudson's Bay Company.


So I hunted around online some more, and located Northwest Traders, which specializes in supplying blankets and capote patterns to historical reeanactors. I ordered a Witney point blanket and a couple of capote patterns from them. If you're thinking of making a capote, I can heartily recommend Northwest Traders— they really do go the extra mile in customer service.

Anyhow, I now had a 5 point Witney point blanket, white with black stripe. The number of points indicates the size of the blanket: if, as is most likely the case, you're not as big around as I am, you could do with a 4 point blanket. Maybe I could've, too, though when I got to work on it, I was glad I had a 5 point blanket, big as I am.


The wool point blankets that historically have been used in making capotes are all manufactured at woolen mills over in England. That includes Hudson's Bay Company point blankets, one of which I've had on my bed for many years now. That includes Witney point blankets, manufactured at Witney, Oxfordshire. Originally the woolen mills in Witney supplied the Hudson's Bay Company. Later they became competitors.

As far as I can figure, the only difference in a Witney point blanket is the label it carries, plus the fact that it costs only about half as much as a Hudson's Bay Company blanket. Early's of Witney began in 1669, and continued in business for more than three centuries to become "the second oldest British company still trading," before it closed its doors in 2002.


I also obtained from other suppliers some horn buttons and some llama braid. I used 1 1/8" horn buttons on the coat (actually more like 1 3/16"), anchored in back with smaller 9/16" horn buttons. The llama braid is an edging which was sometimes used on capotes, braided not woven. The Hudson's Bay Company used to keep some llamas in Nova Scotia. Today llama braid is more economically made of wool. From old texts and pictures it appears that red llama braid was often used on capotes. I decided on black llama braid instead.


I mixed and matched two capote patterns in an attempt to approximate that picture on the cover of the magazine. When I was over visiting my folks at Christmas time, we laid the blanket out on the kitchen floor, and after much measuring and remeasuring, I cut the pieces of the coat out of the blanket— a rather nerve wracking venture, as a wool blanket like this one is not cheap! My Mom's advice on the patterns and the cutting was invaluable. And after I headed back over to Iowa, she continued to work on the coat, sewing it together, sewing on the edging, and all.

The Witney point blanket came to me with two labels in the corner. The Northwest Traders label, above, I had removed and sewn inside the coat, below the collar, where coat labels usually go.


As for the politically incorrect Early's of Witney label, I left that where it was— in the finished coat, inside the front coat flap toward the bottom.

Old pictures indicate that there was a lot of individual variety in the style of capotes, as is to be expected in garments which, like mine, were often hand made from a point blanket. I made various minor alterations in the two patterns I mixed together. I had the hood shortened so it wouldn't be quite so long and pointed. Old capotes also often were fastened with a wool belt cut from blanket fabric, rather like a bathrobe: here I decided to go with buttons, as in the picture I was following. And I decided to skip the fringes and other decorations which one does sometimes see in old photos, though I think much more often on modern-day capotes than on ones from times of yore.


So ends another brainstorm. I get cool ideas like this all the time, but most often they don't come to fruition. This time the capote, Witney point blanket coat, wool winter coat, has materialized on this terrestrial plane, due to a lot of planning and perseverance and in particular a lot of hard work by my Mom, without whom it just wouldn't have happened. I can testify, the coat is comfortable, and warm— extremely warm, we're talking wool fabric a quarter inch thick, it'll do me in subzero weather— and historical, and unique.

Update on the Wool Coat

The wool coat is coming along— the one that was cut from a Witney point blanket, styled more or less like the capotes worn by Indians and French fur traders back in days of yore. Styled, in fact, very much like the picture above. Full report, including pictures, when the coat arrives.

Slow in the Wintry Head

You ever have those days when you just feel slow in the head? Not like you've actually got anything, but just not quite functioning? This is one of those days for me. I just sit in the old wicker rocker, covered with a wool blanket, with a hot water bottle against my head, and a cup of coffee clutched between my hands, as much for the warmth as for the caffeine.

Very seldom do I feel slow and just not quite with it, unless I'm actually ailing. But this is one of those times. I seem to hit days like this more this time of the year, January or early February. It doesn't feel at all unpleasant, just like something in me won't quite shift out of first gear. Seasonal whatever? Perhaps. If so, like I say, it's not unpleasant. Just out of the ordinary for me.

Nor will an inveterate insomniac like me complain over how, when I'm in this phase, I find myself easily sleeping long hours at night. I'd almost forgotten how it feels to get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep at night, to awake refreshed in the morning. Refreshed but slow. As if waking were a continuation of sleep by other means.

It may well be a seasonal thing. If so, I'm not complaining. Only please don't ask me to run any sprints or do any somersaults when I'm in this mode.

Mountain Men

Stumbled across some interesting information here and here about the mountain men, who roamed the Rockies doing fur-trapping in the early 19th century. The 1820s and 1830s were the halcyon days for the mountain men.

Bearded, clad in buckskin, often wearing a wool coat made from a point blanket, or even a buffalo robe... the mountain men were there, trapping and living off the land, a generation or more before the pioneers came in their covered wagons. The mountain men were living further beyond "sivilization" than I bet you could possibly get in today's world.

This is one point which has long bothered me: in today's world there are no more frontiers. Within my lifetime, the last blank spots on the map have been filled in. New Guinea, the Amazon, darkest Africa, the furthest isles of the sea: nowadays they all purner have their own zip code, so to speak. There are no more frontiers.

"A Sheep's Coat at Sunrise, a Man's Coat at Sunset"

Talk about the marvels of modern technology! Or in this case, the marvels of 1811 technology. Yes, I'm talking about the amazing story, which I ran across recently, of the Newbury Coat... "a sheep's coat at sunrise, a man's coat at sunset."

There was a bet of a thousand guineas riding on the manufacture of the Newbury Coat. English cloth manufacturer John Coxeter bet Sir John Throckmorton that, starting with sheep at sunrise on a summer day, he could turn the wool on their backs into a "well-woven, properly made" coat by sunset.

Shortly before 5:00 AM on June 25, 1811, a shepherd led two sheep into the village of Newbury, Berkshire. The villagers watched as the sheep were shorn. Then the wool was "washed, stubbed, roved, spun, and woven." Woven on a loom which would look primitive to us today, though it was state of the art in 1811.

Once the woolen cloth was woven, it was "scoured, fulled, tented, raised, sheared, dyed, and dressed." Then the tailor and his assistants, who had already taken Sir John's measurements, went at it, "cutting out, stitching, pressing, and sewing on buttons, in fact, generally converting the cloth into a 'well woven, properly made coat.'"

The hunting coat was finished at 6:20 PM. Sir John, wearing the coat, sat down to dinner with a number of other gentlemen that evening. The coat he was wearing at sunset had been wool on the backs of sheep at sunrise that morning.

The marvels of the modern loom! The marvels of modern 1811 technology!

As a footnote, the manufacture of the Newbury Coat was reenacted on September 21, 1991. They managed to finish only an hour quicker than John Coxeter's record of almost two centuries previously.

Back from Vacation

Yeah, I'm home from vacation. Had a good time over in Wisconsin, if you discount one minor incident of stomach upset. All the family are fine. The wool coat is close to finished, more on that some time soon.

And I still have to unpack this evening. Later.

These Last Days Before Christmas

It's always seemed to me that, these last few days before Christmas, time slows down and assumes a different pace. Things move as if in slow motion. The world pauses. Christmas vacation has begun.

When I was a kid we would go out and ride our sleds down the hill in our back yard. My sled had originally belonged to my Grandfather, and it dated back to before 1900. In those days we were on easy terms with the past.

We were waiting for Christmas. Waiting for Christmas presents. One year I got Mike Hazard, Secret Agent. Another year I got Major Matt Mason and his Space Station. Oddly enough, I never believed in Santa Claus. We weren't brought up that way.


The Christmas tree was already beginning by now to shed needles all over the living room rug. In those days we had a real Christmas tree. There were some bulbs on the Christmas tree with fluid-filled glass columns, bubbles would bubble up in the fluid when the bulb was on and it got hot: these dated back to the 1930s, when my Dad was a kid. There were ornaments on the tree, such as a bugle, or a paper castle, which dated back to the 1890s, when my Grandfather was a kid.

My brother and I used to play a game called Journey to Bethlehem. I think it had originally been a greeting card. It folded out into a board game. The idea was, we were journeying to Bethlehem to see baby Jesus. You would draw a card and move to the next square with that symbol on it. The symbols were: blue angel, green shepherd, yellow star, red cup. I'm not quite sure what the cups had to do with it all. Some squares were like "move back two squares" or "lose one turn." This game was always a very special part of Christmas time for me.

In later years, I remember the time when I was living in North Carolina, 1100 miles from family and unable to afford the trip to see them for Christmas. And in these last few days before Christmas, I went out and got myself a gyroscope and a deck of Rook cards to amuse myself with, there alone in my apartment.


Now this year, once again, time slows down in these last few days before Christmas. I have to pull my sermon together for Sunday, but I don't have much else that I have to do these next few days. I'll have a busy Sunday, and then Christmas morning, Monday, I'll be heading over into Wisconsin to visit my folks for several days.

My insane Christmas project this year involves turning out a wool coat to my own specifications. I got a Witney point blanket, and a couple of patterns which I've been mixing and recombining, from a historical reenactors' outfit. Old fashioned buttons made of horn from another outfit. And llama braid for edging from yet another outfit. All bought online. I've talked my Mom into doing the sewing while I'm over there, and the result ought to be a very usable winter coat, also a reasonably historically correct simulacrum of the coats, or capotes, made from wool point blankets and worn by Indians, French voyageurs, and whatnot, back in the old days up in Canada.


Also, there's no snow in the forecast. Looks as though, for the first time in many years, we won't be having a white Christmas. Hunh.

A Book About Blankets

That book about blankets arrived yesterday, and I've been lost, immersed in it. That book: The Blanket: An Illustrated History of the Hudson's Bay Point Blanket, by Harold Tichenor.

Of course I'm a fanatic about wool blankets in general, and the Hudson's Bay point blanket in particular: as we head into the chillier season, I've got two heavy wool blankets on my bed, one of them Hudson's Bay. This book is a wondrous history of that blanket which has been sold from Hudson's Bay Company trading posts, going back into the late 1700s.

The text of the book is slightly touched with that "race, class, prestige, economic status" bilge which is so popular in academia; but not unbearably so. Overall the text is engaging and informative. The many, many illustrations are a delight, and more than worth the price of the book ($15 cheap) all by themselves.

In fact, after reading this book, I had to resist the temptation to order immediately another Hudson's Bay point blanket, plus a pattern by which to cut it up and sew it together into a heavy hooded wool capote, such as they used to wear up there in the Great White North.

Wool Blankets and Me

I sleep with the windows open when weather permits. During the summer it's often just a matter of ventilation. But now you can feel in the air that fall is not far off: it got down almost to 50° last night. And so I'm back once again to using a wool blanket.

Actually, I'll use a wool blanket in the middle of the summer if I can get away with it. I have a thing about wool blankets. The wool blanket on my bed is a Hudson Bay point blanket, big white blanket with colored stripes, green, red, yellow, and dark indigo blue. And those little point-marks on the edge of the blanket. I've had it for years, it's somewhat worn but still serviceable. Got it back in the early 90s, back when I was generally still in my spartan ascetic mode of life, you know, little 12" B&W TV, furniture from St. Vincent's. But I did have a top-of-the-line wool blanket. Hudson Bay! Very warm on a cold winter night. Or, like I say, in the middle of the summer if I can get away with it.

On my couch I have a lighter grey wool blanket, picked it up at some Army surplus store. In the wintertime I break out a second wool blanket for my bed, a much thicker grey wool Army blanket, red stripe near either end with a white cross sewn into the red stripe. Add my quilt on top of two wool blankets, and I am pretty well set for the coldest of winter nights.

I don't know what it is about wool blankets and me. Somehow, no other kind of blanket feels like a "real" blanket to me. Yes, as you might guess, I had a special blanket as a kid; but it was not wool: yellow, and much worn, and I wish I knew where it went to.

In the meanwhile, far as I'm concerned there's nothing to beat a genuine wool blanket. In the cold of winter. Or, if I can get away with it, in the summertime.

Haiku'd

I see I've been haiku'd by Dean Esmay. LOL!

BTW, those leather-soled wool-sock slippers of mine are striped blue, red, yellow, and green on white, just like my Hudson's Bay Point Blanket. (Which is also wool, if you hadn't guessed.)

Slippers

Have I mentioned? My slippers are like wool socks. Double-thick wool socks, with leather soles. Extremely comfortable. And knowing me and wool, I'll probably keep on wearing them clear on through the spring and summer. No kidding.

Subzero

It's cold around here these past few days. It was fairly cold on Sunday, and then Sunday night the temperature got down to around zero. Yesterday I doubt the thermometer managed to creep up out of the single digits, and then last night... Well, last night I got up in the middle of the night (thankfully not my usual insomnia, overall I slept soundly last night) and I checked on the Internet, and here were some of the temperatures around here in the middle of the night:

• La Crosse, -1° F.
  
• Decorah, 1°
  
• Prairie du Chien, -6°
  
• Boscobel, -3°
  
• De Soto, -2°

De Soto is over on the Wisconsin side of the River from us, and up here on the Ridge it's reliably a few degrees colder than down in the valleys, so I think it's safe to say that it was below zero here last night. I don't have a thermometer outside— got one that I keep meaning to set up, though I never get around to it— but I don't doubt for a moment that it got below zero here.

In fact, at the moment it's four below up in La Crosse.

This is really strangely cold for this early in December. I mean, this is more like January weather. And of course the snowfalls we've been getting every few days since Thanksgiving just sit there on the ground and keep adding up, bit by bit. We haven't had a really big snowfall yet, but they do add up.

I can tell when it's going to be a cold night, because my house has dual heating, electric and oil, and when it's going to get really cold overnight, the electric coop switches my heat over to oil by remote control. Usually at the top of the hour, heading into the evening. The furnace kicks in, and for a minute or two you can smell this burnt oil odor in the house.

Fortunately I'm armed with plenty of wool blankets. On my bed I've got my trusty old Hudson Bay point blanket— heavy white wool with blue, yellow, red, and green stripes. In fact I've got that blanket on my bed year round; yes, I know it's weird, but I've always had a thing about genuine wool blankets. Heading into the winter, I've added on top of that a second heavy wool blanket, this one a big grey Army blanket, with a red stripe along top and bottom and a white cross embroidered on each stripe.

Downstairs on the wicker sofa, I've got a flimsier grey wool Army blanket. Have to look into getting a heavier wool blanket to take the place of that one. You can never have too many wool blankets. Especially in this subzero December weather.

Hot Apple Cider

It was back right after Thanksgiving that I got on my present apple cider kick. Was looking in the supermarket for some kind of fruit juice, found that most of them featured high fructose corn syrup as an ingredient. Then I noticed that apple cider was, well, just water and apple juice concentrate. So I got some apple cider. And I've been going through it ever since, by the gallon.

I find it hard to drink apple cider cold. Something about the taste— same as with apple juice. But warm the apple cider up, and it's a whole 'nother story. Some other time we'll get into what a Selective Luddite™ I am; but I do appreciate the microwave. A coffee cup of apple cider will heat up to just the right temperature in 2 minutes and 10 seconds.

One great thing to do with a cup of hot apple cider is to go curl up on the couch. Preferably with a blanket over me— I use an über-heavy wool blanket I picked up at an Army surplus store. Then just lie there (or, as we say in my dialect of English, "just lay there"), holding the hot coffee cup of apple cider in my hands. And just fade in and out, mind lost in the wide open fields and closed lumber rooms of woolgathering. Taking a sip of hot apple cider as the spirit moves me. When I finish the cup and come to, I sometimes find that half an hour has passed me by.