October Is Here

Mom. I always thought that when they made donut holes instead of donuts, someone cut the middles out of donuts to make the little...round lumps. You know? BUT THEY DON'T.

No, they don't. You can easily have donut holes without the donuts, and vice versa. Mindblowing.

On Monday morning, we revised our plan to hike in the Presidio, because, as you may have heard, the entire state of California is pretty much on fire right now. It's scary and horrible to see the destruction, never mind how the fires are still raging. The smoke is intense even in San Francisco.

Wyatt and I flipped through cookbooks to find a suitable birthday treat for Margaret's Birthday Breakfast for Dinner that evening. We opted for Apple Cider Doughnut (Holes) from Gluten-Free Girl's American Classic's Reinvented. We discussed the risks of trying a new recipe for the occasion and decided to go for it anyway.

After some grocery shopping, we headed downtown to visit our friends who were spending the day at the Contemporary Jewish Museum. We learned from Sukkah Artist in Residence Ari Salomon how to take vertical panoramic photos and he gave us some terrific prints.

As far as the donut holes, I think our batter was too runny. I'm not sure why, because I was really careful about following every instruction meticulously. I mean, I was meticulous to the point of, "This batter looks too runny to form into balls. But I had better leave it alone because what do I know, I've never made this before." Anyway, our apple cider donut holes didn't end up even close to spherical, but you know what? They still tasted amazing. And we all preferred the weird sticky-out pieces because they got crunchier. The stack of about thirty of them made an excellent birthday-cake-mountain, and because they were donut holes, we didn't have to save them for dessert.

The rest of our weekend was full of Northern California October Things that all fell on the same weekend this year: Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, Lambtown, and The Blue Angels.

The concert was terrific. It was also more political than in previous years, and it was way more safety-conscious. I guess it's fair to say it was Very 2017. Wyatt learned a few more "bad words" from some of the performers, but he has since forgotten them, and I steadfastly refuse to remind him what they were. In and around great music, we cheered for justice, equality, the end of toxic masculinity, and more. And we even played a few spontaneous and hilariously competitive rounds of Uno with two men seated behind us on the lawn at the Swan Stage. Uno is SUCH a great game. Taking a photo of our card game would have ruined the mood, so I didn't do that. I did, however get one of Wyatt working on some finger knitting while we were there.

Lambtown was also wonderful, as always. We watched young sheep dogs try to herd some sheep, visited with the animals, and saw some incredible fibers, crafts, and artwork. I got to visit with Sincere Sheep and see my Strata cowl styled ever so beautifully in the festival booth.

Wyatt opted for a ticket to the petting zoo over the (tragically circular) pony rides this year. And good thing he did, because there was a puppy section. He snuggled every single one of them multiple times. (Why didn't I pay $5 for my own puppy snuggles? I mean, just LOOK.)

And if that's not enough? When we got home, I canned another batch of fruit butter. This time was roasted pear with vanilla, cardamom and honey. It's outstanding.

From Dye Workshop to Shawl

Check out this shawl I just finished. Isn't it pretty? Aren't the colors great? The pattern is Hiraeth (with a couple of modifications because I wanted to use as much of my 1000 yards of fingering-weight yarn as possible). And the yarn? Well, I DYED IT MYSELF! Maybe not all by myself, exactly. I also had lots of guidance, thanks to a workshop hosted by Sincere Sheep and Kira K. Designs at Sincere Sheep's studio in Napa.

The workshop was super fun and incredibly instructive. To be clear, I am all for DIY experimentation when it comes to art or craft. But with natural dyes and nice yarn? I want to feel like I might actually get a result I want. Left to my own devices, the threat of disappointment looms large. I love to learn from Brooke (of Sincere Sheep). Her dyeing set-up is terrific, her knowledge of natural dyeing is astonishingly deep, and she infuses her spirit of generosity into every aspect of her teaching. I chose this particular workshop because gradient yarns have always confounded me. I didn't know how they were made, and I didn't know how best to knit with them. Now I know those things, and more.

Here are some photos from the workshop, Natural Dyeing Gradient Yarns.

We started the day by looking at all our color choices, and then we sketched how we thought we wanted our colors to go, from one end of the knitted blank to the other. For gradient yarns, which are yarns whose colors change over the length of the yarn, you can get that drifting color effect by starting with a "blank." A blank is yarn that has been knitted (usually by machine) into a long rectangle. You then dye the rectangle of yarn (which has also been mordanted, so the dye will stick), and when dyeing is complete and the blank is dry, you unravel the blank into a ball from which you can knit. Brooke guided us as to which dyes to use and in which order to achieve our desired effects. I chose to do gradients of green, from light to dark, on one blank (I used fustic and indigo). On the other, I went with greys and purples (I used fustic, logwood, tannin, and iron--I think. I can't find my notes!)

I thought these two skeins would look pretty marvelous together, but I didn't have an exact project in mind.

Once home, I let the thoroughly rinsed yarn dry, and I gleefully unraveled (ripping with abandon!) the blanks and wound them into cakes.

I then began searching for a pattern that I thought would work. I looked for fingering-weight yarn patterns that would use about 1000 yards of yarn. Eventually, I chose Hiraeth, and I modified the pattern as I went along to use more of the green skein and then to not run out of the purple one. I had to rip out some rows after realizing I had miscalculated, but it wasn't that bad.

I finished this project in record time. It is my first shawl. For all the knitting I have done, I have steered clear of shawls mostly because I have no idea how to wear them so that they look good and I don't feel silly. But enough insecurity! 

I think I now understand why so many knitters are shawl-obsessed. Shawls like this one can be really beautiful and easy and meditative to knit. They can also feel interminable, but that's not really something special about shawls. Also, the things that can drive you to distraction when knitting a sweater or a hat, like gauge, size and fit, are not really important in a shawl. As long as you're pretty close to the gauge the pattern requires, you'll have enough yarn and your shawl will drape and fit just fine. Low stress knitting at its finest.

I love a project like this one that teaches me things. In addition to learning to appreciate shawls, I now also know how gradient skeins are made and how to knit something lovely with them.

Thanksgiving Trivets (or Don't Make Everything Yourself)

As I basked in the afterglow of Thanksgiving this year, I thought back to last year and the 10-Hour Vegetarian Pot Pie (otherwise known as the Worst Thanksgiving Food Ever To Grace Our Table). This year's Thanksgiving couldn't have been more delicious, wonderful, or more different from any Thanksgiving Marc, Wyatt and I have had as a family. We were three out of sixteen guests at my cousins' home. Many of the guests were my relatives, but some were not, and all of them were interesting, kind, funny and great eaters. I loved eating the things I'm not good at cooking, including turkey, dressing, gravy, and pecan pie. I also loved eating the foods I thought I was really good at cooking, like mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, because, as it turns out, mine are not as good as theirs. I've never been so glad we brought bottles of wine, and I have already written a thank you note to our hosts. With any luck, we will become part of their Thanksgiving tradition for ever and ever amen.

Just like at the family reunion this year, I have no photos of our dinner or brunch gatherings. But I did get some photos of Patrick Amiot's outstanding junk art near the house where we stayed overnight. Marc also got some after dark.

One Thanksgiving lesson I'm taking with me as we launch headlong into the holiday season is: There's no reason for me to make (or do) everything myself. For example, other peoples' food might be better, it is more fun to do things with friends, and it's easy to improve on holiday traditions if we all bring more joy into the celebration.

This lesson applies equally to making gifts. Don't get me wrong—I love homemade gifts and I love making them for special people who will treasure them. But some handmade gifts are worth making myself, and some handmade gifts are worth buying. One item that is definitely worth buying is this beautiful trivet from Vilt Van Ver (Dutch for "Felt From Far"). You can purchase trivets, coasters, and other products from various retailers, including this one.  Vilt Van Ver's products are stunning, totally handmade, sustainable, and fair trade certified. The trivets are only $39, which is a screaming deal. How do I know? Keep reading.

When Wyatt and I went to the Museum of Craft and Design in August, I spotted a stack of Vilt Van Ver trivets in the (amazing) gift shop. Each was $40, and as Wyatt and I looked at one, we discussed the felted garland Benjamin had made for Wyatt, and we said, "We could TOTALLY make this." I also recall naively thinking that $40 was kind of steep for a felted-ball-trivet. (It isn't. Forty bucks is a steal.) So I took a photo of the trivet on the shelf, and we went home where I did some research about making felt balls. I also checked the Vilt Van Ver website for details, like dimensions and number of balls required. After learning each trivet requires 100 felt balls, I inexplicably decided we'd make two trivets, one for each of Wyatt's kindergarten teachers. After all, it was only August, and how long could 200 felt balls take? Ha.

We bought our first eight ounces of wool roving (for $40, or the retail price of a trivet, for anyone who's keeping track), and I figured out through trial and error that each ball would require two grams of roving. From there, a little math showed one trivet would require almost this entire eight-ounce bag of roving. So, I knew that eventually, we'd need more wool. I also started to wonder if the project would get the better of us. Each ball was taking about 15 minutes to felt. But I got faster. After about a zillion balls, I could hand-felt one two-gram ball of wool in about three-and-a-half minutes. Wyatt required about 30 minutes per ball; he was down to about 15 minutes by the bazillionth ball.

We bought eight more ounces of multi-colored wool roving (from a different retailer, this time for $20) about a month later. Most days through September and October, we rolled a few balls and then set them in a sunny window to dry. We made felt balls inside the house and out in the garden. Whenever there was a spare moment or couple of hours, we were felting balls. Fun fact: Even when a felt ball feels dry on the outside, it is still not dry! Mold dulled our earliest, vibrant, woolly balls, all because I left them together in a bowl, on top of each other, for a few days after they seemed dry. We soon started leaving the balls in one layer in a giant glass baking dishes because NOBODY wants moldy balls.

Once all the balls were made, we rejoiced for a week with the following call and response: "Guess what we don't have to do today?" "MAKE FELTED BALLS!" Even better, the cracks in my hands from all the felting in hot water and dish soap finally began to heal.

To make the trivets, we sorted the balls by color, and then strung each ball, one by one, onto upholstery thread, ten balls per thread. I then assembled the twenty strings of ten balls into two trivets. I pulled all the strings tight, had to restring a few, and I used a needle-felting tool to hide the knots on the ends of each of the strings.

The trivets turned out well. They are imperfectly beautiful, because even after felting so many balls, only the occasional ball turned out perfectly spherical and wrinkle-free. Wyatt's were often better than mine, but as grown woman with a sense of time and my own mortality, there was no way I was spending 30 minutes (or even 15 minutes) per ball.

We finished ahead of schedule, completing the trivets before Thanksgiving. The balls did not beat us, but it's only because I stubbornly refused to let them win. I am happy we completed the project. We made great gifts, and Wyatt and I experienced thanks to hours (and hours) of our own work and shriveled fingers, the value of skilled artisans who make beautiful things. Basically, Velt Van Ver deserves our business.

We decided to give the teachers their trivets on the Friday before Thanksgiving break. One reason for giving the gifts early was so that they could enjoy the trivets now and through the holiday season. Our other reasons are much less laudable, involving ego and pride. Making trivets out of 200 hand-felted balls was a bonkers (and enormous) undertaking. Those trivets (and we) needed our own day of gift-giving to shine.

Music, Mending, and Lambtown

Even though I remain really reluctant to embrace the season of apples, squash, and soup, October has gotten off to a truly terrific start. The first weekend was full of so much fun that Wyatt skipped school on Friday so we could fit it all in. And then last week, I published my fourth knitting pattern. More about that in next week's post, but meanwhile, YAY ME.

Last weekend was Wyatt's most anticipated annual musical event: Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. We went on Friday before things got too crazy. This is us (actually Wyatt and my knitting, I guess) outside the gates for the concert for middle-schoolers on Friday morning. The music at the festival was great, but the highlight for me this year was watching Wyatt make friends with a four-year old and a three-year old near us at one of the stages—he gave them pony rides on his back, and then they all had a dance party. As if all of that goodness wasn't enough to make a winning Friday, we ended the day on an even higher note after we picked up my friend Debbie at the BART station. We spent the late afternoon and evening with her playing Trouble (which she had brought for Wyatt), making and eating pizzas, and catching up. 

On Saturday, I attended Katrina Rodabaugh's Sashiko Mending Workshop at Handcraft Studio School in El Cerrito. Bonus: Maja came too. I have been waiting for this workshop since June when I found Katrina's work and she promised me in an email that she'd be back in the Bay Area to teach in the fall. True to her word, I got to learn from her in person. She spoke about her journey into slow fashion and the reasons why it's important to disrupt the cycle of fast fashion's trends whenever we can. I loved the books and resources she brought to share. "Sustainable fashion" can be challenging, as I learned in my own little way last year making Wyatt's elephant costume. (Read about that here and here.) During the mending workshop, we hand-stitched a tea quilt (which is thinner and smaller than a potholder, but bigger than a coaster), learned methods of mending, and we witnessed how some simple stitches by our own hands made our patch jobs look beautiful and intentional. Some might even say our embroidery was on-trend. The stack of clothes I need to mend is now one pair of jeans shorter, and I have the confidence and know-how to tackle the rest. Now all I need to do is make the time . . . mending has this way of staying at the bottom of my list of things to do.

Sunday was Lambtown! All three of us went this time, and this year, Lambtown had all the things Wyatt had been looking forward to (music, petting zoo, pony rides, cooking demonstrations), along with a new attractions: a train he could ride on with or without his parents and an interactive farm equipment display. The sheepdog competition was very entertaining, and I learned that Marc knows A LOT about sheepdog trials. (The things a person can hold back in a long-term, committed relationship never fail to surprise me.) We visited with Brooke at the Sincere Sheep booth, where she had displayed my patterns beautifully, and I stopped in to see Kira of Kira K. Designs just next door. Wyatt got to watch carding and blending again at Dreamy Goat Design Studio, and I learned about Shaggy Bear Farms in Scio, Oregon, where they specialize in rare sheep (and their fiber).

I added Gotland and East Friesian roving to the collection of different rovings I have been spinning into yarn. I'm planning to knit all my beginner yarn into a modern, log-cabin style, sampler blanket. My stash of handspun yarn is slowly growing. Here's the stash so far:

Summer Squeeze

Last week, we attended our big family reunion in Hyannis Port and I managed to take exactly zero photos at any of the gatherings. The only photos I took were of our Kids Fishing Trip, and of my shoes while knitting Wyatt's halloween costume in the steam room (a.k.a. outdoor patio) of our hotel room.

Some might argue that a big family reunion is a terrible time to consciously leave one's phone in the car,  but I would argue otherwise. You're welcome, relatives.

I stepped-up my photo game a little bit once back at my parents' house: Lawnmowing! Chipmunk-hole-filling! Dog walking! A visit to Ann and Steve's farm! Ice cream! Bumper boats!

And then suddenly (after six hours on a plane), we were home again. Trips are like that, I guess.

Since we've been back, I've been looking to squeeze a little bit more out of summer before school starts next week. Yesterday was Sunday Streets, so we walked what felt like all of Valencia Street, twice, and we spent extra time in the Pirate Store.

Today, Wyatt and I took a pedal boat around Stow Lake: "Mom. You be the engine. I'll be the rudder." I agreed because his legs were too short to pedal. We did marvelously, alliding only once with some rocks at the shore.

And I can't forget summer food! Even though it's chilly here, in the last few days, I've revisited some stellar (and easy) recipes featuring summer produce, including Grilled Eggplant Parmesan and Charred Corn Tacos with Zucchini Radish Slaw (no photo; we were too hungry). I've also tried a new one: Burrata with Lentils and Basil Vinaigrette. Wyatt was not a fan of that recipe, but everyone is wrong sometimes. And as the photo at the top suggests, we have also been eating artichokes (steamed, with a drizzle of olive oil, sprinkle of salt, squeeze and slice of lemon, and homemade mayonnaise for dipping).

Craft Pals

Christmas is over. Soon we will put away for another year the tree and all its ornaments, as well as the lights that we have draped around various windows in our house. And soon, Wyatt may stop asking every day whether any boxes arrived for him.

Getting letters, cards, and fun surprises in the mail is so thrilling. The holidays brought us a fat stack of beautiful cards, many parcels, and fortunately, extra exuberance from our mail carrier, Roberto. One of the most special gifts that arrived at our house this year was for Wyatt, from his friend, Benjamin, who just turned six. Benjamin made Wyatt a needle-felted toadstool:

This most marvelous creation was the latest in an ongoing informal craft exchange that sprang up over the last year or so. The boys have never met, but Benjamin's mother, Sarah, and I became friends through a book club I joined when I moved to San Francisco. Sarah and her husband moved back to South Carolina before Benjamin was born, but Sarah and I have stayed in touch through social media and email. Sarah's cooking, canning, knitting, writing, and her joy and frustration in wrangling life's chaos inspire me.

The exchange began with homemade marshmallows. In October 2014, Wyatt and I decided to make marshmallows. I posted about it online, as one does, and Sarah commented that she wished she had some herself, but having made them in the past, she was in no hurry to experience the process (the smell, really) again any time soon. Our marshmallows turned out well, and because marshmallows are best shared, we sent Sarah and Benjamin a bag of them.

A few weeks later, Benjamin sent Wyatt a tin of homemade pumpkin pie spice. It smelled heavenly. We used it to make pumpkin custard. The tin has long been empty, and the label is a little stained with vanilla extract. But we keep the tin because it was such a fun gift, it smells good, and we might even refill it one day.

Once the spice was gone, we thought and thought about what we could make for Benjamin. Wyatt decided on hand-rolled beeswax candles. Wyatt rolled, I mailed, and Benjamin loved. The day Benjamin received the box, Sarah sent us a photograph of him enjoying his dinner by candelight. 

Some time went by, and then one day there was a surprise parcel for Wyatt. Benjamin had made him a garland of felted balls. Benjamin explained in the accompanying card that the balls reminded him of planets. Wyatt was delighted and immediately asked if he could hang the garland in his room. It hung on his toddler bed for awhile, and when he moved to his big bed, we hung it over the window. The garland arrived wrapped securely (and untangled!) around a toilet paper tube that Benjamin had painted. Wyatt kept that tube, too.

This summer, we made some felted soap for Benjamin.

We went to Rainbow Grocery and bought some soap that smells like creamsicles taste, and we set about giving that soap a woolen jacket.

Wyatt wrapped the soap in wool roving, and we knotted the roving-wrapped bar in a nylon stocking. He rubbed the bar of soap in as hot water as he could stand, and then dipped it in cold water, and then went back to rubbing it in hot water, then cold water, then back to hot. The bubbles grew thicker and thicker as we worked on the soap for about ten minutes. The wool shrank and felted to the shape of the soap. We let the soap dry so we could pack it for mailing. (Wyatt made a bar of soap for himself, too, because why not?) Wyatt thought Benjamin's soap (the blue one) looked like a map of England, so we mentioned that in the card.

Around the same time as we felted the soap, I finished knitting a lace scarf from teal alpaca yarn. I sent the scarf to Sarah. She's worthy of hand-knit gifts any day, but at that time she was extra deserving, having recently given birth to Benjamin's little brother and having just gone back to school for a master's degree. The scarf seemed like something she would enjoy when the weather grew colder.

A couple of weeks ago, Benjamin sent Wyatt the excellent toadstool and a handmade autumn-themed card. Sarah told me she painted the tree and Benjamin added the leaves with a q-tip.

The timing of this gift couldn't have been better. Just two days before the gift arrived, Wyatt had been cross-examining me about why, OH WHY! could he not do needle felting? I have no idea why needle felting occurred to him. It's not like I had ever done needle felting myself. We didn't even have any tools for it. I told him he could do it when he was older because of the needles. He might stab himself, and stabbed, bleeding fingers would feel very bad. He was unmoved by my explanation. When he learned that Benjamin had made the toadstool himself, he immediately confronted me with the reason why it was totally appropriate for him to start needle felting: "Benjamin does it!" After marveling at the toadstool for an entire afternoon, Wyatt carefully re-wrapped it in its golden tissue paper and placed it in his basket, saving it for when we got our Christmas tree. We shopped for needle felting tools the next day.

Once we had our tools, and then our replacement tools because some needles broke, we made Benjamin a needle felted ornament. Wyatt was very clear that it needed to be made of hearts.

He was careful to have me write in the accompanying card that Benjamin could put the ornament on his Christmas tree, but he didn't have to. We also sent some caramel popcorn clusters because the only thing nicer than sending Sarah the recipe was to send the popcorn itself.

There are so many reasons why I love this little exchange of treats and crafts, not the least of which is the way it sprang up so spontaneously. There has never been any pressure to send anything, never mind by any particular date. It's just really fun. We've also made some pretty great items with our boys. I am mystified why crafts are so often considered and almost always marketed as an activity for girls. After all, who among us wouldn't enjoy a good roving-stabbing from time to time? Seeing Sarah and Benjamin's creativity has inspired us to try new crafts. And the joy and appreciation that Wyatt has in receiving something that his friend has made for him, a couple of thousand miles away, with his very own hands, is truly wonderful. 

Lambtown Festival

Lambtown has been on my calendar for months. I read about it in Clara Parkes' book, The Knitter's Book of Wool, where she included a list of popular fiber festivals. Lambtown, which is held annually in Dixon, California, seemed like the closest fiber festival to where we live, and therefore the best choice for us this year. Wyatt agreed that a 90-minute drive for sheep, sheepdogs, and music would be worthwhile.

We went on Sunday, along with my friend Maja and her family. We all watched two of the seven sheepdogs in the final round of competition. Each dog and handler pair had ten minutes to herd three sheep from a homogenous flock around obstacles and into a pen. The competition was surprisingly intense. We had to stay quiet (a challenge for little ones, which is why we only watched two competitors), and as the dogs got close to getting all the sheep into the pen, the crowd held its collective breath, silently cheering on the dog and handler. When the sheep decided to go around, rather than in, the pen, the crowd let out a groan of disappointment.

Wyatt loved the petting zoo. There were a variety of gentle animals, including some tiny, irresistible pigs who would give an adorable little snort-squeal when you touched them. 

There were also red helium balloons, stamped with a seal of the Republican Party. The kids loved the balloons. And as you may have guessed, many of us non-Republican-voting parents were vaguely irritated by having to chase, and secure these floating advertisements all day long. 

No other political parties were represented, but there was a non-partisan voter registration tent, and they had a craft where the kids could build little sheep out of toilet paper tubes, cotton balls, and pre-cut construction paper. These volunteers also had a sheep trivia contest that I failed miserably. I learned, however, that the three states with the greatest number of sheep are: California, Wyoming, and Texas. Also, sheep do not have to turn their head to see behind them.

The vendors' booths were terrific, and there was so much wonderful fiber and yarn for sale. I did not get to linger long, though, because shopping in beautifully organized and carefully curated booths was not easy with my young companion. We did, however, enjoy a fascinating demonstration of a drum carder, and Wyatt got to try blending some vibrantly colored bamboo fibers on a fiber blending board. I was so happy to grab a few minutes with designer and teacher, Kira, of Kira K. Designs. And, I finally got to meet Brooke Sinnes of Sincere Sheep! I love her yarns, her creativity, and her energy. if you haven't already listened to her interview on the Woolful podcast, I highly recommend it.

Our day at the festival was terrific. We got there at 9:00 am, and we stayed until about 3:00 pm. The space was really manageable, even for little kids, it wasn't too crowded, and there was even live bluegrass music all day on a stage in front of picnic tables. I suspect we will be back next year!

My First Handspun Yarn

It took me a few weeks to finish the work I needed to do on the yarn I spun in Massachusetts, but now it's done. Isn't it pretty?

The item that kept from from finishing this project sooner was a niddy-noddy. I know. It's a silly sounding name, and as far as I have found, there is no other word for the device.  I looked to buy one locally, but I couldn't find one, so it was Etsy to the rescue. Here is the niddy-noddy I bought. And this is what it looked like with my yarn wound around it. 

The purpose of a niddy-noddy is to allow you to wind yarn, stretching it out at the same time you're measuring it. For example, I used a two-yard noddy-noddy, and when I was done winding my yarn, I counted the loops (33 loops), so I knew I had 66 yards of yarn.

I let the yarn sit on the niddy-noddy overnight.

The next day, I tied the loops together it in four places with undyed yarn (to avoid any color transfer), and then it was time to wash it. The spinning we did during my class was "in the grease," so the wool had never been washed. Here's what the yarn looked like going into the basin:

I washed the yarn four times, gently, in lukewarm water with a little bit of liquid laundry soap. The first three washes, the water was full, and I mean full, of lanolin. The water turned a deep brown. By the third and fourth washes, the sticks and twigs had started to float out of the yarn and the water was less and less brown. Here is what the third wash looked like:

By the fourth wash, the water looked pretty clear, so I knew I was done. I rolled the yarn in a bath towel to get most of the water out, and then I hung the yarn to dry over a doorknob in our laundry area, with the basin under it to catch the drips.

Even though the yarn is at best, inconsistently spun, I'm pretty happy with my first effort. I'm not sure what I'll make with it yet, but I'm happy that I have so much to work with.

Drop Spindles and Spinning Wheels

"Oh, that's great yarn you made! Mom. When are you getting a spinning wheel? Soon, yes!? But I do NOT like the smell of that wool. I know what the problem is: maybe they didn't filter it?"

Wyatt and I are just returning from ten days at my parents' house in Massachusetts. That's a new personal record for all of us. In addition to our crab apple jelly/jam concocting, we enjoyed an amazing day trip to Wingaersheek Beach with friends, blueberry picking, and visits with family. Most days, though, Wyatt stuck himself firmly to his grandparents in the morning and took the day from there. He did some work in the wood shop and garden, emptied the wading pool with water shooters, did construction projects in the sand box, tirelessly assisted in mowing the lawn on the riding lawnmower, helped with errands, and chased the dog around the yard.

My parents' place is pretty terrific, especially when you're four, and it's summertime. As an adult, I recognize I am really fortunate to have grown up there. At the same time, I vividly recall how I couldn't wait get out of my hometown, go somewhere far away, and do something awesome.

More than a month before we were scheduled to leave, I was looking at the ten days blocked-out on our calendar, and I noticed a teenager's scowl beginning to tug at the corners of my mouth. I realized I was having a tough time shaking my view of our destination as "boring." I wondered if I could plan a way to experience or learn something new while I was visiting. I started to think about New England, New Englanders, and the pleasant attributes make the people and area special. During the weeks leading up to our trip, Wyatt began to comment on all the things he was looking forward to seeing, including all of the "forests." To him, there are forests everywhere, including on the side of all the roads. 

I began to think about open space, forests and then farms, and I started to research whether there were any hyper-local farms or yarns I could check-out while I was in town. I didn't find any.* I next considered attending a fiber-related workshop. A few online searches later, I found Sheila Bosworth, who works only minutes away from my parents' house, and the Fiber Loft just down the road in Harvard. Suddenly I knew what I wanted to do: I wanted to learn to spin wool in New England.

I contacted Sheila and the Fiber Loft, and both of them had good news: they would teach me to spin! Sheila would lend me a bobbin and teach me the drop spindle technique, and the Fiber Loft had room for me in a day-long beginning wheel spinning workshop. Fortunately, my parents were up for some extended grandchild time, so I was free to make plans.

My first lesson was with Sheila. I knew I was in great hands when she looked at my first wonky yarn attempt and told me, "Oh my! Look at that! You've made bouclé! I can't even do that anymore. People pay good money for artistic yarn like that." She gave me wonderfully attentive instruction, as well as little spinning mantras to say to myself to help with bringing the right amount of wool to the spindle. I bought one of her gorgeous spindles, and I left with the intention to follow her admonition to practice for 15 minutes a day.

My second lesson was just over a week later, at the Fiber Loft, with Ann Corbey. Our class was a group of four women (we all arrived solo), and none of us had ever spun wool before. Ann brought us fleece from her sheep, Lydia. 

We started with Lydia's skirted, unwashed fleece, and we learned to card it.

Once we had carded the fleece into rolags, Ann showed us how to spin it "in the grease." We worked with Lydia's wool from 10:00 am until 4:00 pm. The time flew, we all chatted, learned, messed-up, and fixed our mistakes. I left with a ball of pretty good looking handspun wool and a deep admiration for Ann and her gracious, fun approach to teaching. It was magical to watch my fingers feed fluffy rolags of wool I had just carded into a wheel I was powering with my foot and have yarn come out the other end. Bonus: my hands got a lanolin treatment. 

I was hoping I'd have fun with these lessons, but I wasn't expecting I'd love spinning or be any good at it. I certainly wasn't expecting to leave these lessons plotting how I might find a reasonably price, pre-owned, (double treadle?) Louët spinning wheel so I could take up yet another craft. But I do love it, and I am plotting. In the meantime, I have my little drop-spindle to keep me busy.

My next task will be washing and blocking my yarn...

*I'm convinced there are plenty of little local farms to visit, but the farms are not commercial enough to bother with a website.