Hypogymnia Lichen Windfall

I return from many of my walks with pockets full of lichen windfall. One of the common finds under trees is two slightly different species of Hypogymnia, a good dye lichen.


Lichen windfall is perfect for dyeing, since it does no damage to just pick up the fallen lichens. I’m therefore writing a small series of posts on the different species of lichens typically found in windfall, and I’ve already written about Ramalina fastigiata.

This time, I’ll have a look at Hypogymnia physodes and Hypogymnia tubulosa, two common species that are closely related (that’s why part of the name is the same). Also, they do look alike – both are grey-green and foliose (flattened, leaf-like). Hypogymnia physodes, here seen covering a small branch, has flat lobes, sometimes with soredia on the outer part. Soredia is one of the way that lichens can reproduce, and break through the surface in lots of little dots, making the surface look grainy or powdery. In Hypogymnia species, the soredia are found on the bottom side, which folds up on the tips of the lobes, making the grainy lower surface visible:

Hypogymnia physodes covering a small branch. Detail on the right shows the lobe tips folded up, displaying the graininess because of the soredia.

Hypogymnia tubulosa looks a lot like Hypogymnia physodes, but has hollow lobes. In the right side of the image below, the hollowness is visible since I cut one of the lobes:

Hypogymnia tubulosa with a cut lobe on the right side.

Both species are very common, and grow in many places, including on trees, stones, and wooden surfaces. They like growing on acidic substrates, and Dobson’s “Lichens, An Illustrated Guide to the British and Irish Species” mentions that Hypogymnia physodes is among the species least sensitive to sulfur dioxide pollution. Hypogymnia tubulosa is a bit more sensitive.

The dye content sometimes differs a lot even for species that are otherwise very similar. So I decided to test if the two species give the same color.

I used unmordanted yarn, since lichen colors are substantive. I made one dyebath with 9 g of Hypogymnia tubulosa, and put a 12-gram skein of Fenris (pure wool) and a 5-gram skein of Bestla (merino-silk) in. Another dyebath was 15 g of Hypogymnia physodes, and two 12-gram Fenris skeins and one 5-gram Bestla skein went into that one. So half the weight of lichen compared to fiber in both cases. I modified one of the Fenris skeins in an iron afterbath.

Both lichens give the same color – a fine, dusty yellow, the completely expected shade from bwm lichens. So in conclusion, no reason to sort Hypogymnia physodes and tubulosa. The merino-silk takes the color a little less well than the pure wool, and an iron afterbath does significantly darken/sadden the color at turn it green.

Left: pure wool and merino-silk dyed with Hypogymnia tubulosa. Right: pure wool and merino-silk dyed with Hypogymnia physodes, further right a pure wool skein dyed with the latter, modified with iron.

Lichen Windfall

Lichen windfall is perfect for natural dyeing, since it does no harm to pick up the fallen ones, they will no longer grow. One of the most common and easy-to-recognize lichens in windfall is Ramalina fastigiata.


When walking outside on rainy, windy days, I very often find lots of lichens scattered on the ground under trees. Lichens that the wind has torn down from branches. Sometimes, on the day after a big storm, I’ve come home from walks with all my pockets plus random trash bags filled with windfall. Wonderful windfall with that amazing scent that only lichens have.

Collecting windfall does no harm, since these lichens are not able to continue growing anyway. It’s the best (some would say only) way to obtain lichens for dyeing. When I come home with such a treasure, I usually spread it out on a plastic tray to dry (to prevent mold).

Lichen windfall drying at home. It looks like a big piece of Evernia pruniastri on the left, Ramalina fastigiata on the right, and probably a Parmelia species on the bottom.

But before dyeing with lichen windfall, it’s necessary to sort the lichens and determine the species, since you will need to use the boiling water method (BWM) with some species, and the ammonia method with others:

Boiling water method – it is what it sounds like. Simmer the lichen in water and cool off. Add the yarn to the dye bath and heat it for an hour without boiling.

Ammonia method – the difficult one. Steep the lichen in 1% ammonia (originally, stale urine was used) for several weeks or months, opening and shaking the jar daily to aerate. The red liquid in the jar is the dye bath.

In both methods, no mordant is required, since lichen dyes are substantive (they bind directly to wool without the help of a mordant).

Lichens steeping in 1% ammonia.

In order to type lichens, I recently bought myself a copy of “Lichens, An Illustrated Guide to the British and Irish Species” by Frank S. Dobson. It contains a detailed introduction to lichens, and a detailed key with photos and descriptions.

With my copy of Dobson, I’m planning to take a closer look at the types of lichens that are commonly found in the windfall here in my corner of Denmark. That is, how to recognize them, how to dye with them, and which colors to expect.

I’m beginning with a very common type of lichen, which may very well be the easiest one to recognize: Ramalina fastigiata. Often, large tufts of this will fall, and they are completely covered in small outgrowths that look like tiny suction cups. The outgrowths are apothecia, the fruiting bodies of the lichen. They make spores for sexual reproduction. When the spores germinate in a new location, they meet with a new alga to become a new individual lichen. But the dyer doesn’t have to worry about all that, being able to recognize apothecia is the important part.

A piece of Ramalina fastigiata, completely covered in apothecia. Tufts like this can measure up to about 5 cm (2 inches).

Karen D. Casselman mentions the Ramalina species on the list of ammonia methods lichens in her book, “Lichen Dyes, The New Source Book”.

I’ve previously tested the ammonia method on Ramalina fastigiata and achieved a light rose color (pictures here).

But Casselman also mentions the and Ramalina species in her list of boiling water method lichens, so I decided to test that method on Ramalina fastigiata. I used equal amounts of wool yarn and lichen, and achieved no color at all (no pictures!). The conclusion: Ramalina fastigiata is strictly an ammonia method lichen.

Amazing Dyeing Failures 2

The topic of my last post was failures in dyeing, and here’s more. First, my most serious and most annoying failure as a natural dyer.

3: Organic Indigo Failure

A while back, I experimented a bit with an indigo vat with fructose, but my results were not very convincing, in the sense that the amount of blue I got out of the vat was completely underwhelming given the amount of indigo that went in. Mona of Thread Gently on the Earth suggested trying another type of indigo vat that uses madder and bran. So, using what Mona wrote and what her source of the information, Aurora Silk wrote, I tried the madder/bran vat, since I’m still very interested in a natural fermentation vat for indigo.

In the beginning of May, I mixed 34 g of indigo, 17 g of ground madder, 17 g of wheat bran, and 116 g of sodium carbonate. I used at pot with a well-fitting lid, and filled with water so there wasn’t much air in the pot. We had a very warm early summer this year, so I just put the pot outside the house, where it was 27C during the day. But nothing happened. I had suspected that, since the pot would cool off during the night.

My next setup consisted of a simple electric hot plate for cooking. After a bit of experimentation, i figured out that on the lowest setting, and switching it on for 15 minutes out of every 2 hours with an electric timer plug, I could keep the vat around 37C. After a couple of weeks, though, I was forced to admit that nothing much was going on there.

So I started a bit of wild experimentation. Could it be lack of reducing power? I added fructose and more base, but that didn’t get the vat started. I then transferred part of the vat to a large jar, and tried warming it on a water bath. The jar was full and had a tightly closed lid, and that did improve things. The color didn’t shift to yellow-green, it was still blue with just the slightest green tinge (you can see it on the spoon, top left image above), but the jar vat developed the coppery film of a working indigo jar. I dyed small skeins, and they came out a lovely dusty blue.

Indigo dyeing with a madder/bran vat with a sprinkle of fructose along the way. The vat became slightly green-tinged (top left), but did develop the coppery film that shows it’s working (top right). Bottom, a small skein of yarn dyed dusty blue in the indigo jar.

So it’s sort of working – but not amazingly so. I can only dye very small skeins in this jar, but I did a lot of troubleshooting which may bring me closer to running a fermentation vat properly and over a long time. For now, I do consider it a failure, since I got so little blue out of my 34 g of indigo, but I’m clearly not done with this. Maybe one needs to set up a larger vat, using an amount of indigo that makes abandoning the vat unthinkable.

4: Common Broom Failure

I have tried – and failed – to grow dyer’s greenweed (Genista tinctoria) a couple of times. The seeds need cold stratification, which I have tried to give them, but they never sprouted. Dyer’s greenweed is supposed to grow wild in my part of Denmark, and I have searched for it, but not found it.  Then in June, the landscape was dotted with yellow: it was common (or Scotch) broom (Cytisus scoparius). This plant is considered invasive in many places, but not in Denmark, where it occurs naturally. But it has been spreading in a new way for the past 30 years, so picking it is definitely fine, just keep in mind that the seeds are poisonous.

I studied my old flora a bit, and since both dyer’s greenweed and common broom belong to the legumes (family Fabaceae), I convinced myself that common broom would be worth a try in the dye pot. At that time (June), the flowers were already past their prime, but i picked some branches at the roadside.

Common broom is spreading, adding splashes of yellow to the roadside.

The result was not impressive – good old failure beige once again:

Wool dyed with common broom – hello beige…

I would have called it a failure and left it at that if I hadn’t come across an entry on common broom in John & Margaret Cannon’s excellent book “Dye Plants and Dyeing” (I recently bought a second hand copy). This book tells you that the part of the plant used for dyeing is young branches, picked in April or early May, not the flowering stalks picked in June as I did. The young branches should produce shades of yellow-green with alum and green with copper. I might try this again next year.

“Dye Plants and Dyeing” also mentions some confusion in the dye literature between common broom and dyer’s greenweed, since the latter is sometimes referred to as dyer’s broom. Not surprisingly, Cannon & Cannon (in a book published in association with The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew) recommend that the dyer relies on scientific nomenclature for dye plants. Actually the same conclusion is reached by Catharine Ellis in her run-in with “broom”.

5: Reindeer Lichen Failure

During my summer holiday, I gathered some lichen of the Cladonia family, I believe it’s reindeer lichen (Cladonia portentosa). In “Lichen Dyes: The New Source Book”, Casselman lists this lichen as a boiling water method lichen that should give a “leaf green” color. So into the dye pot it went, with a test skein of unmordanted wool, since lichen dyes are substantive. The result is not what I hoped. Beige, despite the fact that I used a large amount of lichen relative to yarn:

Reindeer lichen (Cladonia portentosa) and yarn dyed with the lichen.

6: Cold Dyeing Failure

Mommy is a witch. Check out my cauldron, a dye pot with mushrooms and wool.

At some point, I tried dyeing with old polypores, in the usual hot dyeing process, and that actually gave me a good yellowish brown. Recently, when cleaning up outside, a big hoard of old polypores surfaced. I don’t have enough space to store dyestuffs inside, so they were outside and were damp and looked like they would spoil.

I had a thousand other projects going, so I wasn’t really ready to dye with them – so I decided to try a very lazy experiment: cold dyeing (which I normally never do because it seems to me that it doesn’t really work). The experiment amounted to throwing the polypores into a bucket with rainwater that was just standing there, then put in a small, 12 g test skein of alum mordanted wool, and then letting it stand there for about 3 weeks. You have probably already guessed that it produced a smelly skein of beige wool, which I cannot even find now (I think I overdyed it with indigo). So all I have to show for this experiment is my 6-year old Dagmar’s drawing showing that “Mommy is a witch”. I am taking it as a compliment.

PS: Just as I wrote this, light samples of both the cold dye and hot dye with old polypores surfaced on my desk. None of them have the light-fastness achieved with fresh polypores in a hot dye bath.

Summer Rain

This summer passed in a big cloud of rain, which has been lovely for plants and mushrooms that came out early and in huge numbers. We went on lots of day trips, for example Skovsnogen Artspace:

Skovsnogen artspace, a forest full of sculptures.

My mom has managed to finish a couple of knitting projects with yarn that I’ve dyed. An Elizabeth shawl designed by Dee O’Keefe in Einband that I’ve dyed with madder. This Icelandic wool is wonderful to knit with and to wear, but it also takes color beautifully. She also knit a pair of socks, the pattern is Laurel by Wendy D. Johnson, the yarn a sock yarn I’ve dyed purplish blue with indigo and a twist of cochineal.

My Mom’s knitting successes, using yarn that I dyed with madder and indigo.

We went on a day trip to the hilly landscape at Rebild. The sheep are a perfect match for this landscape, and in the end, it is their grazing that maintains the heath (blueberries though, they don’t touch). I don’t remember ever seeing such steep hills anywhere else in Denmark – it tells you about the power of the melting waters from the end of the last ice age.

The hills of Rebild.

Rold forest is close by. There, we saw the unusual old beech trees, called “purker” in Danish. They have multiple contorted growths because they were cut down repeatedly for firewood. Fallen logs are left to rot, giving mushrooms and insects a much needed habitat.

The ancient forest of Rold.

We also encountered biodiversity on the island of Livø. We went on a guided tour of the organic test farm, where experiments are made with growth practices for organic farming, as well as testing new crops such as quinoa and buckwheat.

It’s always a good thing to see a field of crops with lots of other plants in it, such as clover and cornflower. I’ve always loved cornflowers, but I do see them in a new light after reading about their color in “Handbook of Natural Colorants” by Berchtold & Mussak. The color comes from a supramolecular, self-assembled, complex of cyanidins, flavones, and metal ions (Mg2+ and Fe3+), and that’s why it cannot be extracted for dyeing. The complex comes apart, and the individual parts are not blue. This could be the case with other pretty colors that are impossible to extract? The amethyst deceiver failure comes to mind.

On the island of Livø, off the coast of mainland Denmark.

I obviously couldn’t walk outside an entire summer without looking for lichens. I’ve added two books to my lichen library, one is a small and useful Danish pamphlet, “Laver i Tisvilde Hegn” by Hørnell, Jeppesen & Søchting. The other is the elaborate, somewhat academic “Lichens, An Illustrated Guide to the British and Irish Species” by Dobson.

I always find the most common lichens: Evernia prunastri, Ramalina fastigiataXanthoria parietina, and Hypogymnia physodes which I’ve already experimented with for for dyeing. So this summer, I’ve looked for Cladonia species.

I’ve often seen the funnel shaped lichen (top left in the image below) on the ground and on dead trees, and I believe it’s Cladonia fimbriata. I haven’t collected this lichen, since I’m not sure how to. One funnel at a time? Also, Casselman’s “Lichen Dyes, The New Source Book” does not mention this species.

Then there’s the reindeer lichens. Until recently, I thought they were mosses, but it’s never too late to learn something new. I found Cladonia portentosa (top right) in several places this summer, and my books do say that it is common, so I’ve collected a bit for dyeing.

I’ve only seen the bottom row lichens once each this summer, so I only took photos. Never pick a lichen if you don’t know if it’s rare. On the left, I believe, Cladonia rangiferina, and on the right, Cladonia coniocraea. Casselman does mention Cladonia rangiferina as a bwm (boiling water method) lichen that dyes shades of red to brown. Maybe it’s more common in other parts of the world.

Different Cladonia lichens.

Home again, I’m beginning to prepare for the workshop on natural dyeing that I will teach the first weekend of October.

Walks in March

The weather here in Denmark has been all that bad in March. I suppose you’re supposed to make some comment along the lines of “in like a lion, out like a lamb”, but really, good and bad weather just depends on expectations. I’ve been sitting outside in the sun a couple of times already, knitting. And we’ve been on several good walks. There isn’t much new growing yet, so the most interesting living things right now are mushrooms and lichens growing on trees.

This is Evernia prunastri spreading over a tree trunk. I didn’t gather any of it this time, but I have dyed with it before. You have to use the ammonia method on this lichen, in which case it yields nice tones of pink.


We also walked to the edge of Gudenaa, the largest stream in Denmark (I wonder if you could even call it a small river?). Early in March, it had flooded quite a large area, but that is already coming down now.


We have borrowed a piece of garden not far from there, and I managed to plant the first seeds on February 28th, dyer’s greenweed. Before that, I kept the seeds in the freezer for two weeks because they need cold stratification to break dormancy. I didn’t try the freezer last year, and none of them sprouted last year. So I hope it works this time.

We also found ourselves walking in the forest, which was full of interesting things despite the time of year.

Here, a lot of cones that have been picked apart. We found them in a big pile under a tree. It’s the work of a squirrel, its signature being that there are still some bits of material sticking out from the cone’s stem. If a mouse had eaten these cones, it would have cleaned everything off.


We also found jelly ear / wood ear (Auricularia auricula-judae). It is edible, but they were a bit slimy, so we just left them.


A perfect leaf skeleton (found by my daughter)


And this log, patterned by the paths eaten by worms when it had bark. I wish I could knit this pattern…


Finally, I found a lot of rusty gilled polypore, Gloeophyllum sepiarium, which grows on dead coniferous tree, it even grows well on treated logs, like these ones:


These polypores are old, there’s actually lichens growing on them


And here it’s growing in neat lines, guided by the cracks in the tree


This is what the mushroom looks like seen from the bottom. It looks like gills, but this mushroom is a polypore with quite oblong pores.


Rusty gilled polypore is supposed to contain a quite good brown dye, so I harvested a nice pile of them. More to come on that!


Jars of Lichens

Lichen dyeing is a slow discipline – the slowness only surpassed by the pace that the lichens themselves grow at…

I started two jars of lichens late in February, one with Evernia prunastri (left) and one with Ramalina fastigiata – at least, I’m fairly sure that’s what it is (right).


It’s important to mention how I gathered these lichens: the Ramalina fastigiata is all windfall from a single tree that used to grow in the playground near our house. Every time I walked under it, I found at least one bit of fallen lichen, and often, I filled both pockets. But then, the other day, I walked by only to find that the tree had been cut down! Along with every other tree nearby!! I hope some city planners somewhere are hanging their heads in shame. That place is not fit for humans anymore. Or any other species for that matter.

Most of the Evernia prunastri is also windfall, but some was picked during trips to several different forest where it grows so thick that most trees are completely covered with it, and in that case, picking off small bits is OK.

Evernia prunastri, also known as oakmoss, ragged hoary lichen, and stag’s horn lichen, is a well known dye lichen, and is also a component of many perfumes (makes sense, its scent is wonderful, but that’s the case with all lichens I’ve met up close). I put 25 g of this in one jar.

Ramalina fastigiata is not specifically mentioned in the lichen chapter of “Vegetable Dyes” by Ethel M. Mairet, a remarkably useful book from 1916 that you can read for free at the Gutenberg project. Nor does “Lichen Dyes, The New Source Book” by Karen Diadick Casselman, but both books mention unspecified/other Ramalina species as sources of red/pink using the ammonia method (and Casselman also indicates that yellow can be obtained with boiling water method). I put 20 g of Ramalina fastigiata in a jar.

After adding lichen to a jar, it should be filled with 1% ammonia so it covers. I buy the ordinary kind at a supermarket. It is 8%, so I simply make a diltion to 1%.

And then comes the tedious part!

Let the lichens steep in ammonia for weeks and weeks, take the caps off every day to let in air, and shake the jars well and often to ensure aeration. Casselman warns again and again that the color will not develop properly without good aeration.

I was diligent in my vat-shaking until early April, at which point I decided to try out the dyes.

From each jar, I took the amount of liquid that is equivalent to 5 g of lichen. From the Ramalina jar, which had 2o g of lichen, that was 1/4 of the liquid or about 100 ml. From the Evernia jar that contained 25 g of lichen, 1/5 of the liquid.

I diluted them to cover the yarn and placed them in a double boiler system with glass jars inside a pot of water. I remember reading about this somewhere, but I don’t remember who the brilliant person is…

But it’s very clever for these small dye baths AND also very good because the pH is above 10 even after dilution, so you have to heat very gently to not damage the wool:


I gently heated the pot for about an hour, then took out the skeins of wool instead of leaving them in the dye bath until next day as I usually do. I did it differently because I thought the high pH over so many hours would ruin the wool.

This first dyeing attempt gave a couple of skeins of medium pink shades that are quite pleasing, I think! The Evernia-dyed skein (on top) has a slightly browner tone of pink than the Ramalina-dyed one (bottom) which is truly baby pink


After that, I let the jars continue until late June, but I’m afraid the vat-shaking was much less diligent!

But on June 21st, I decided to finish the experiment.

I filtered the rest of the liquid in each jar, then measured the pH, it was 10-11 (as expected). I split the dye liquid from each jar in two, left one of them as it was, and neutralized the other one. I used about 1 part 37% acetic acid to 5-8 parts dye. This is just what we happened to have in the house, HCl would work too. If you want to try this at home, wear goggles and lock children and pets in another room.

Then I used the same double boiler setup as first time, taking out the wool at high pH after an hour, and leaving the skeins in neutral jars until the next day. And the result:


From right to left, it’s:

1: The Evernia-dyed skein from April

2: The Ramalina-dyed ditto

3: Evernia high pH, June

4: Ramalina high pH, June

5: Evernia neutral pH, June

6: Ramalina neutral pH, June

So actually skeins 3 and 4 are just a repeat of 1 and 2 but a couple of months later. I’m really not sure why the color was better in April than in June. Because I stopped shaking the jars as much? Or does it influence the result that I used alun mordanted skeins in April but unmordanted wool in June? It shouldn’t, since lichen dyes are substantial, but one never knows.

The neutralized dye baths yielded more color, but the color is towards tan tones rather than a real pink. Nice colors, but I’ve gotten similar colors from avocado with less effort!


Mordant 10% alun on some skeins, none on the others (it’s what I had around)

Water Tap

Yarn Supersoft 575 m/100 g

Yarn:Dyestuff ratio 2:1 and similar ratios

Conclusion Lovely baby pink plus more saturated orange-pinks

Possible improvements I’d like to get more intense color with this method, and I imagine using more lichen could do the trick. But the shaking of the jars is probably just important to optimize!

All in all, I’m pleased with my first results using these types of lichens and the ammonia method. But I do think there is a lot of room for improvement. I’ll probably start some new jars soon!

The Faintest Pink

Once your eye adapts to spotting lichens, there is one in particular that beckons to you from just about everywhere – bright yellow Xanthoria parietina, growing on stones, fences, and branches.

It’s even in my holiday snapshots from last year, taken at Dybbøl, where the Germans beat the Danish army back to the stone age in 1864. Xanthoria parietina is the yellow splotches on these big boulders my daughter is posing on:


And here is a branch with the lichen up close:


The color of the lichen can actually vary quite a bit. The Wikipedia entry says that the deep yellow color is caused by the pigment parietin, which has a biosynthesis that is light dependent because parietin is actually the lichen’s UV protection. I have indeed often seen intesting lichens growing in the shade, and stepped closer just to find that it was actually a green-grey version of Xanthoria parietina.

The yellow parietin reacts with KOH to give red, one of the standard test one can make when typing lichens. I don’t know the exact chemistry, but I am guessing the same should happen when you steep it in ammonia?

Parietin, Wikipedia informs us, is also found in the roots of curled dock (Rumex crispus, kruset skræppe in Danish). Jenny Dean lists the roots of curled dock, dock, and sorrel as sources of reddish browns, but I’m not sure if that has anything to do with its parietin content.

But back to Xanthoria parietina. Irish lichens (one of my favorite web sources on lichens) tells us that it is a very pollution-resistant lichen. It seems to be spreading, and is even considered invasive by some people, so this one is fine to gather whenever you find it.

I have kept a jar of Xanthoria parietina since November 15th last year. It contained 42 g of lichen in ammonia (I buy the ordinary one at a supermarket and dilute it to 1%).

I try to remember to shake my jars of lichens. The book I read on the topic, Karen Casselman’s “Lichen Dyes, The New Source Book” returns to the point several times: “Aeration is important”, “Vats ignored […] may not develop properly” and so on.

But in real life, of course, it’s hard to remember. It only takes moments to take the lid off, replace it, and shake the jar, but like flossing and taking vitamins, initial determination can quickly wear off. Some weeks I may have shaken this jar every day, but at least half of the time, it’s just been on its own.

The dyeing process, on the other hand, is easy. Just pour the liquid into the pot and dye the yarn in it over gentle heat. My 10 g test skein came out a faint, but pretty, pink:


and this is actually the best color that I have achieved with Xanthoria parietina. I think it’s a pretty color, although you are actually supposed to turn it blue by exposing the wet skein to sunlight. I tried that with a similar skein, but the blue tone it turned into was so faint that it was white that just felt a bit blue… My guess is that the initial pink should be very strong in order to get a good blue – this is also based on the photos that mycopigments posted here.

I suspect that the shift to faint blue will eventually happen if the yarn is exposed to sun at all (photo-oxidation). Red2white shows a series of light tests here, and in addition to color loss, there is also a change towards blue. But faint and possibly also quite fugitive – good blue can only come from indigo!

In conclusion, the dye from Xanthoria parietina is fun to play with, but not lightfast. I still find myself planning out more experiments, so next time I pass a yellow branch, something will go into my pocket (for a lovely day of acetone extraction perhaps?)

FACTS – Xanthoria parietina

Mordant 10% alun*

Water Tap

Yarn Supersoft 575 m/100 g

Yarn:Dyestuff ratio 1:4

Conclusion The color is pretty, but faint. And it is not lightfast

Possible improvements More diligent vat-shaking – more efficient aeration should develop the dye better. And maybe ripping the lichen into smaller pieces will also help extraction? According to Casselman, lightfastness improves if the yarn is dried before the dye is rinsed out

*Alun mordanting should not be necessary when working with lichen dyes, as they are substantive = able to bond to animal fibers by themselves. But I just had some mordanted skeins on hand, and it doesn’t interfere, either.

Lav-arten Xanthoria parietina bør, efter extraction i ammoniak, give en pink farve som skifter til blå i direkte sol. Jeg har prøvet at få denne blå frem tidligere, uden held. Denne gang har jeg ladet garnet tørre uden sol og fået en svag fin lyserød farve.

Gradient Hat

I’m in hat knitting mode right now! As soon as this hat was finished, I had the next one on the needles. The pattern, a Danish one called “hue 1” (that just means hat 1, the book has more than one hat) really makes my brain go berserk with color scheme after color scheme.


I’ve cheated a bit since I didn’t only use naturally dyed yarns for this project: the black background consists of different commercial yarns from my stash.

Pattern hat 1 by Lone Gissel and Tine Rousing, Nordiske masker
Yarn Supersoft 100% wool 575 m/100 g (plus some commercial stuff)
Needle 4.5 mm
Colors Privet berries (from our garden, winter) Indigo + tansy (bought + collected from the roadside, summer) Reed flowers on grey yarn (collected from the seaside, summer) Yarrow (collected from the roadside, summer) Mixed lichens (collected in the forest – this was bits and pieces I couldn’t type and in the end just swept into the dye pot) Parmelia sulcata (a lichen, collected in the forest) Dyer’s polypore (Phaeolus schweinitzii) (a mushroom, collected in the forest, fall).
Conclusion Love it! The colors, the fit, the fox fur
It’s often been said that any naturally dyed colors fit together, and I do think that is the case. I did take some care lining up colors that blended well one into the other, but they were not very hard to find in my big basket.
Another observation: I think natural dyeing is the best kind of yarn tourism. When I look at the hat and its colors, I’m immediately taken back to the places where I collected the dye stuffs.Well, not so much the privet berries from our garden, but other wonderful places we walked during the nicest months of 2014.Just one example. The reed flowers are from our august summer vacation in the southern part of Denmark, right on the border with Germany. I picked my flowers by the ocean, and I just had some fun trying to find the exact spot on the map. And I did it! The exact coordinates are 54.894576, 9.626491, and you can even see the mass of reed growing there when you use the max zoom of the map… Right next to a tiny harbor where you can stand on the planks and watch crabs hurrying around on the bottom. And when you look over the water, you can see Germany. Imagine, all that worn on a hat in the form of a stripe of yellow-green yarn!
Mønsteret til hatten er er fra Nordiske Masker af Lone Gissel og Tine Rousing, og det mønster bliver ved med at køre rundt i mit hovede i forskellige farvekombinationer! Her har jeg strikket den på en sort baggrund som er fabriksgarn, jeg havde liggende. Regnbuen fra grøn til varm gul er mine egne naturfarvede nøgler.