Chilly Sunday Morning

We're thinking about doing some yard clean-up today, but it's a tad chilly. We'll see. Scored some Icelandic and Shetland roving yesterday at Hudson Valley Sheep and Wool Company yesterday, paying about $1.50 an ounce thanks to their February sale.

I'm curious to see how they spin compared to the romney and merino I've been using, and if I can tell the difference. Found the shop folks to be wonderfully friendly and inviting people. They told me that their local spinning group (Elmendorph Spinning Guild) had 40 people show up for their monthly meeting. What does it say that so many are returning to this ancient art? Tomorrow is my woolly day (work is closed for the holiday), when I plan to spend the entire day spinning, knitting and needle-felting in turns, but I'd happily abandon yard work for more, more, more!!

I've turned off word verification and gone to comment moderation. We'll see how it goes...


Enjoy your Sunday!

Rising from the Mire

  One can only wallow so long, so a quick update: Sunday I did indeed resume spinning, practicing singles. So I may not travel at the rate of the rest of my sheep-to-sweater classmates...the philosophers say it's the journey, not the destination. My sister tells me it's time to stop expecting perfection from myself, so I'll just take my time and enjoy the process.
  We have a new chicken plan in the works. It involves fewer chickens, a smaller coop located much closer to the house with access to electricity (and it'll have outside nestbox access for us); we'll make a runway of sorts to let them have their ample former stomping and foraging grounds up top, and will avoid flighty chickens so they stay within the fencing and away from gardens--ours AND our neighbors'. Millie and a couple of the others wandered over the other day from their now-home across the road, and I was so delighted to see her that I'm looking forward to making it work this time.
  Seed and plant catalogs are arriving. I'm a relentless garden dreamer who does love those sundrenched tomatoes...already tasting fresh gazpacho and crisp green beans and sharp arugula!
  Thank you to the encouraging commentors....good to have company 'out there'!

Remedial Spinning

  Let me say right up front that the self-indulgent whine that follows is the product of a mixture of prednisone-induced moodiness (unresolved severe allergy that is awaiting diagnosis), the end of three long, discouraging weeks at work, and sadness because my younger son is semi-moving to Boston temporarily. Minus that sludge-in-the-soul combo, I might be laughing at myself after today's class, not despairing of ever being a capable woolly person.

  Today was plying and finishing class. Plying is when you take multiple single yarns that you've spun, and spin them together to create yarn you can make stuff with. Sounds easy enough. Hah! There are twists and turns and treadle speeds and ratios...and a sad mess. Today I was the remedial student. It was embarrassing. There I was surrounded by creative people...there was the womon who infused wool with the color of late summer sunshine--using marigolds no less, the guy who had no questions but great--and clearly achievable--plans for the roving he was smoothly and flawlessly spinning, and another womon quietly sitting in a corner plying three singles together to create a fine, lovely yarn of wool and angora; when she talked about the sweater she'd make from it, I knew I'd be seeing that sweater, and lusting after it! But my wheel and I produced a tangled mess, that even my absolutely untrained eyes knew didn't vaguely resemble something usable.

  I never expected to sit down at the wheel and 'get it' all at once. But to be so infatuated with wool, to love the feel and energy of it, to want to linger long and have a meaningful relationship with it, only to still be knitting squares and spinning slubby singles that bceome painfully plied pairings is discouraging. All that mess up there, and here's the little segment that is what it should have been:

  Do you ever feel like you came into your own life too late? I didn't meet Linda until I was 43. Didn't meet wool until I was 48. Didn't figure out that a homespun life with critters (besides cats) and gardens might be what my soul longed for. And now that I know all this, sometimes it just seems too late for all of it. Not too late in years; I'm only 50 1/2. No...too late to learn new tricks. Too late to be a student all over again, to face failure and be the remedial student, that 'one' who needs all the extra help. Too late to get up and feed chickens before going to work. Too late to relish digging and sweating on a hot summer day even for the profound joy of biting into the sweet flesh of a sunbathed tomato. That's how I'm feeling today. Tomorrow I'll sit at the wheel and spin my singles and count the treadling in an effort to create something consistent and worth plying. Tomorrow I'll read Backyard Poultry and talk with Linda about how we'll address all those things that made me quit on chickens (like Winter housing and fencing) so we can try again and be successful. Tomorrow--or some snowy day (if we EVER get one this Winter)--we'll pull out the seed catalogs and garden bed drawings, and plan again. But today, I'm just tired and discouraged. Today I feel like the little match girl peering in the windows at the wondrous creations of people who speak the language of wool, and feeling like I'm never gonna get there. Deep sigh.

Sunday Spinning

I'm all set for tomorrow's spinning class, the first in the year-long Sheep-to-Sweater series at Countrywool!

Just Kidding....

I was serious, and I did mean it when I ended my blog. But the thing is, I miss it. I miss that sense of journaling, of recording what's happening in my world. So maybe it isn't the next great American novel. Maybe it isn't life-changing and mind-altering. It's still my work and it was a pleasure. So I need to write it for the pleasure of writing it. If I'm blessed with 'followers', I'll be grateful for each and every one. And if I'm not so blessed, well, fewer people are following my notebook scribblings...and I don't question their validity! Well, yeah, I do, but not because I'm the only one who sees 'em. Those discussions are between my Muse and my hypercritical self.
So I'm back to the blogging world. I have stuff to write about! I'm going to be taking a year-long sheep-to-sweater class and am captivated by Claudia of CountryWool describing it as a spiritual process. We're having serious chicken discussions again. I'm back on Weight Watchers and this time using a treadmill to make the goal of a healthy me a reality. It's gonna be a good year, so this Would-Be Mountain Womon is back!

Friday, Friday, Sis Boom Bah!

Perhaps when one has had TWO snow days in one work week, ecstatic joy over the weekend arriving is over the top, but I don't care.  Two whole days at home--yay!  My plans? Continuing to work on Linda's crocheted throw, doing some knitting...ya know what?  I MISS knitting!  Crocheting is different, and since it's a basic pattern, pretty easy...but I miss the click of the needles, the way knitting's rhythm soothes me.  So I need to have a knitting project going.  And there are a whole lot of balls in assorted colors that would love to be felted. The spinning wheel, in her state of disarray and disassembly, has co-opted the whole kitchen table in a quiet, genteel, richly stained way.  The path to her wholeness lies through a can of acrylic...so that's my top priority.
And there are couch snuggles with Yeti, playtime (and sneezy, itchy snuggles) with Elfkin.  The former is ready for the snow to be gone (poor thing--there are two more snow 'events' forecasted, one tomorrow and one mid-week). Miss Elf has made herself very much at home.  She's only confined to the office at night now, or when no one is home.  When we're home she has the run (so to speak) of the downstairs, and has claimed a toasty corner of the livingroom rug near the pellet stove as her own.  We're amazed to see her managing better with practice; the hardwood floors are challenging but when she gets up a head of steam she can make it all the way through the kitchen without flopping over.  A heavier food bowl has cut way back on the spilled kibble, and for a cat who uses her litter box laying down, she keeps herself very clean.  One reads and hears that cats with CH (cerebellar hypoplasia) are very sweet-natured, and it seems to be very true.  She's a loving, affectionate little sweetie who comes to greet me every morning and when I come home. She wants to be carried around in the morning while coffee is poured and sits on my lap as I read the morning news and emails online.  She naps in my arms many evenings, waking drowsily to watch us or bat at a feather toy before dozing again. She's a playful little girl who never met a ball she didn't like.  She met one of the other girls--Dottie--unexpectedly, and it went reasonably well.  Yeti is so careful around Elf, if a tad jealous; we make sure Yeti gets extra love and affection!
And of course...a few precious hours with my beloved during the weekend is icing on the cake.  Hope your weekend is just as delightful.

And Then It Happened

Although this past week was brutally hot, seems like everything got the memo about Fall just when the calendar page flipped.  Last night we were slightly north of here; the yellowing leaves and golden grasses told us Summer is releasing her stranglehold.  This morning, Yeti and I watched squirrels--red and gray--chasing each other up and down the black walnut tree.  Linda and I saw low-flying geese. And my sister, Yeti and I went walking at the Greenport Conservation Area; fallen leaves were sprinkled about on paths that were leafless a week ago.  On Tuesday I'll dive into a two-week work frenzy during which I'll barely see the light of day; it's so strange to think that when I emerge, we'll be mere days away from the official start of Fall...but it feels like I've never longed for it as much as this year.
This Fall celebrates the anniversary of two love affairs.  Six years ago, over the course of a glorious Fall, I fell profoundly, deeply, and passionately in love with Linda, and it never ceases to amaze me how blessed I am that--for inexplicable reasons--she fell in love with me too.  And a year ago, I embarked on my wild and wooly affair with wool.  There's been alot of experimentation, some daring, a little flirting and alot of wallowing in the wooliness of it all.  Today I marked--just a wee bit early--the beginning of the affair by ordering my own spinning wheel!  In a few short weeks, an Ashford double drive Traveler will take up residence here (um, a note to my aforementioned beloved: ya know how you LIKE assembling things?  Did I mention the wheel comes UNassembled in addition to unfinished???  Got any plans for late September?).  And since the NYS Sheep and  Wool Festival is in October, I can't wait to bring home bags of roving to work with!  I'm anxious to have lots of time for knitting and spinning, and will have some time off in October to sit out on the porch soaking up colors and coolness, feeling the wool on my skin, sipping cider, listening to the rustle of leaves.  Is it any wonder that my longing is outpacing the final days of Summer?