Dyeing with Dried Madder Root

A shoe box full of dried madder has long awaited its moment of glory.
"Ooh, Elinor, it must be over a year since I dug these roots up, I'm so pleased they haven't gone mouldy. Some gorgeous red yarn will really liven up my knitting."
"Fair play, Beaut, can't fault your optimism. Just bear in mind the last few madder vats. Considering your track record, I expect you'll end up moaning over balls of orangey brown wool."
Conveniently ignoring my companion and a store of less successful muddy orange fibres, I pulled out the best leftovers from my past madder dye sessions. Proof that blood red was possible, if not probable.

New shoots are already coming up from the plants in the garden, so I could as well have dug up some fresh material. I hoped my stored supplies would work better, since I've read that the dye gets stronger once roots have been dried out,. With 100g of yarn to dye, I decided 150g dried root would be a generous amount and guarantee me a strong red ... if I could get the method right.

My experience suggests that breaking down the roots at the beginning does help release their dye. Though I've spent ages slicing and macerating fresh roots, when I put these desiccated bits into a blender with the blade for chopping nuts, they buzzed down to a gritty powder within seconds. Which was great, til I remembered they hadn't been scalded yet.

Madder contains other dye colours as well as the red alizarin. Pouring boiling water on the roots and leaving them to soak for a few minutes quickly releases a considerable amount of dye. Since more of this is yellow than red, scalding can clear some of the orange tones. Sadly, if I'd decanted the fluid I'd poured over my buzzed up madder, I think I'd have lost half the powder.

I understand that alizarin red isn't easily soluble in water, so even though I hadn't managed to remove any of the yellow dye, I hoped leaving this bowlful on the underfloor heating in the bathroom for 24 hours before dyeing would at least get a better percentage of the red out of the roots and into the water. Next day, my dye bath looked dark brown.

It is said that bran will take brown dye out of a madder bath, so I put some rolled oats in a gauze bag and dropped them in the pot. Then I stirred up calcium carbonate in hot water and added that, since hard water is supposed to improve the red. Finally, I added enough soda ash to raise the pH to 8.

Alkaline conditions favour redness. The sample of the dye bath on the left is alkaline and I thought the acidic sample on the right did look less red, more scarlet. My best results so far have come from slow dyeing over five days without much heat, but I have also had disappointing results with the slow method, so heat and time aren't absolute factors. Anyway, I didn't want to hang about.

Adding warm water to the pot to float the first 50g skein of wool, I heated it on the gas to about 50 degrees Centigrade for an hour and left it to soak overnight. Next day, the pH had dropped back to neutral, probably because the roots were still fermenting in the bath. This yarn started out as a long colour change from white through grey and brown.

The white parts of the wool had become reddish, but not powerfully so. I think I actually prefer the brighter tone on the second skein, shown on the right, which was dyed in the afterbath under acidic conditions (I put a lemon in). Overdyeing madder red onto the brown and grey parts of the yarn does seem to have added interest, but the overall result is quite muted. All in all, despite my best efforts, I haven't achieved the rich blood red or bright scarlet I hoped for.

My companion joined me in the green house, where I was stolidly planting more madder seeds. She raised an eyebrow. 

"It'll be years before you get to reap what you're sowing in those pots."

"It'll be years before I've tried out all the different madder dye methods." I sighed. "Best guesses aren't getting me the best results, but there are so many variables to consider, I hardly know where to begin. Never mind when I shall reap these roots, the Grim Reaper may come for me before I manage to get all the elements just right." 
My companion chortled to herself, which I thought rather unkind.

"Talking of the Grim Reaper, this'll cheer you up, Beaut. They call my friend, Cleopatra Jones, 'The Quim Reaper'. She's a beautician, marvellous knack around the bikini area."