I don’t usually plan to get lost. Yes, when I ran, I sometimes did turn down several roads I didn’t know, then made myself find my way back to my starting point (resulting at least once in an hour-long run and a bloody sock). But when I leave home with a destination in mind, I like to go to that place following a planned route (no GPS). If I make a wrong turn, I don’t mind, as long as I’m not late or in the middle of a 15-hour drive.
Yesterday, I finally headed to Iroquois Park, which wasn’t on the Louisville To Do List, but probably should have been. I also needed to visit it and the amphitheater for NileGuide. So I planned my bus routes, got my bike, packed a book and an apple, and headed out for what I expected would be a two-hour adventure. On the second bus, I looked out the window at the south Louisville homes and businesses, enjoying the many turns this route took. Ten minutes later and two streets east of where I expected to be, I recalled the little gray line that is the number 4 bus route on the system map. I remembered it as a mostly straight line south, and I did not remember it passing some of the landmarks I saw. I started doubting whether I’d even looked at the bus number when I got on it. What bus was this? Where were we going?
I finally approached the bus driver and asked if he would pass the park. He stopped the bus right there, pointed to the next intersection and directed me toward Iroquois Park.
“When you get to DeSales, you’re close.”
Turns out DeSales is a high school, not a road, and Iroquois Park is about three blocks from it. But before I made it to the park, I got distracted by this brown sign for “Little Loomhouse.” It was the second one I’d seen. I wanted to know what a Little Loomhouse is.
After pumping up a hill, correctly guessing which split to take when the road forked (left), I found it. Little Loomhouse is where the sisters who wrote the “Happy Birthday” song first sang it. It’s also the former home and workshop of Lou Tate, a Master Weaver who designed a small table loom, wove table linens for Eleanor Roosevelt, used weaving as therapy for World War II soldiers at Fort Knox, and, as a weaving historian, amassed a huge collection of weaving patterns, research and samples. She sounds like a seriously impressive woman, especially since she would go searching for drafts (weaving patterns) all around the state, sometimes on horseback.
My guides into the history of Little Loomhouse and Lou Tate were Frances Crain and Jean Randles, two volunteers who were there setting up for the Spin-A-Yarn Storytelling Festival this Saturday. Ms. Frances, 91, has been volunteering there since 1986, and Ms. Jean, since 1993. Little Loomhouse consists of three cabins, Esta, Wisteria and Tophouse. I met the women in Tophouse, Tate’s weaving workshop. Today, the organization offers weaving classes, and visitors get an individual weaving lesson for $10. Ms. Frances immediately demonstrated how to use the foot pedals, then sat me down so I could try. It’s way easier than the lap loom I had as a kid.
Lou Tate Table Loom – I wove the top two rows.
From there, they took me to the gift shop in the middle cabin, Wisteria, then down to the first cabin, Esta, where Tate lived. Now there’s a collection of weaving and spinning artifacts, a timeline of Lou Tate’s life, and a copy of the pattern she used for Roosevelt’s linens, as well as Roosevelt’s letter commissioning them, and a copy of the check she wrote. I got to use hand cards to straighten some wool, which was perfect — two weeks ago at a Derby party, I had a bourbon-fueled exchange about my sudden desire to card wool. My dream has been fulfilled.
Truly, the best part of my visit was chatting with the volunteers. They were full of information and stories, and Ms. Frances was very concerned that I make it home on my bike — she offered me a ride, then advised me on the best bus routes to take home. She also wanted to feed me lunch. I passed on chicken soup, but had my apple for lunch, sitting with the two ladies at the table in the Esta kitchen. Before I left, Ms. Frances gave me two yarn dolls she made, one for me, and one for my mom in Switzerland, whom I’m supposed to bring when she visits.
From my weaving adventure, I headed to Iroquois Park, where I biked to the top of the big hill and got some lovely views of Louisville and the surrounding area. The road to the top is only open to cars on certain days, so I had it to myself. On the bike back down, I saw a bird so blue it made me brake while simultaneously going, “Ah!” It landed, hopped and flew away at my inept attempts to photograph it.
After that spurt of exploration, I feel like I need to update the Louisville To Do list to include more south and southwest Louisville spots, even though I haven’t accomplished all the sites already on it. The more I can do on bike, the better. And I don’t mind if I get a lost or distracted.
