The wool tunnel
In the last couple of weeks I’ve fallen down a wool tunnel. I started going to Wednesday night knitting at Still River Mill a couple weeks ago, brought my spinning wheel last week, got invited to join a spinning guild, and visited yet another wool mill at the subsequent guild meeting.
I snapped a few photos of the carding machine and the wall of wool at Fibers 4 Ewe this past Saturday. This one is my favorite:
I am utterly fascinated with the process of commercial wool processing. The large-scale transformation of raw fleece to finished yarn seems inherently fantastical to me; it’s like a form of alchemy. Speaking of which, if you are similarly wool-obsessed and you haven’t seen the Shelter Mill Tour Jared Flood posted over on his blog over the last few days, run, don’t walk. Or, uh, click quickly. It’s breathtaking. Is there a Webby for yarn porn?
Honestly, this winter has been pretty brutal, and surprise surprise, adjusting to two babies this year has meant almost zero time for anything other than mothering. Hello, burnout! As it turns out, carving out a little space for yourself helps a whole lot, though. I hadn’t done anything out of the house alone on a regular basis since before Eve was born, and she’s two and a half now. And I guess I forgot for a while but it turns out I really love wool.
I am hoping this love of wool might eventually run in the family. This evening I was knitting while my daughter and I were snuggled down on the couch watching Blues Clues, and lo and behold, she asked me if she could have sticks and yarn like Mommy.
Is it weird that this may be one of my proudest moments as a parent? Sure, the first words and first steps were wondrous, but look! My baby girl wants to play with yarn and sticks! I am practically levitating with joy.