Fiber, fiber everywhere... and no time left to spin.

These are the eggs I have for breakfast.
The names of the hens that laid them are written in pencil.
I know EXACTLY where my food comes from.

I miss spinning. I miss the rhooooom-whirrrrrr-whirrrrr of my wheel. I miss the hypnotic treadling and the clack-clack of the footman-treadle join.... which, come to think of it, might be something that needs fixing.

My poor wheel -- my beautiful, shiny wheel -- has been sitting under a striped sheet for a long time. No one has recently wiped it down with oil after a long spinning session. No one has checked to see that it hasn't been suddenly attacked by termites. I am guilty of spinning wheel neglect -- the only saving graces are that (1) I cared for it very well before it went into the corner with a sheet and (2) it has been kept out of the sun and inside a climate-controlled house, where the temperature and humidity never vary significantly, thanks to the ridiculously complicated HVAC systems.

I know it hasn't suffered physical harm, but I still feel like I've fallen down on some sacred duty... It's times like these that I'm pretty sure I don't deserve a wheel as gorgeous and well-made as mine. My wheel was lovingly made by hand, and now it sits in a corner, unnoticed. One would think that I'd at least have the decency to drape it in a hand-loomed shroud, not a cheap twin-XL sheet leftover from the two years of undergrad that I lived on campus.

I have gigantic plastic storage bins full of fiber -- hand-dyed silk hankies, mounds of fluffy buffalo down, piles of silky angora, three whole alpaca fleeces, goat and sheep fleeces in various states of nature, prime first-clip mohair, and seemingly endless balls of dyed top in various blends of merino/silk -- in an endless holding pattern.

I am not a skilled spinner. I am proficient, but I have not practiced enough to be truly skilled.

With Spring in the air and a definite house-moving coming up, I pause to reflect on this.

Do I need to keep my beautiful Reeves wheel? Do I need these pounds and pounds of fiber that may never become yarn?

Is it something I can let go? Perhaps it was important in the past but I no longer feel the need to cling to it. Maybe it is something unnecessary and weighing me down. Is it something I need to shed? Will I regret the absence of something I barely noticed (except with vague feelings of guilt)?

I am thankful to have owned and had the pleasure of working on such a marvelous, luxurious wheel. It's sorta like having had an exotic sports car in your garage, that you drove once for five miles, detailed and fussed over, and then put on those special curved tired blocks and under a cover, and haven't jingled the keys since. I know how nice it is to spin on a Reeves wheel.

But if I don't spin regularly, why do I have one? I'd get much more use and enjoyment out of an etching press. And I know there are spinners out there who drool over, covet, and would cherish having this wheel.

I'm not going to make a hasty decision on this, but right now I'm leaning toward selling my wheel and getting rid of my fiber stash. I don't think it's necessary at this point in my life.

You knew it was going to happen

I made three stops on the Countryside Artisans tour.


I don't even have to tell you, do I?


Story (and photos) to follow.

Doing My Patriotic Duty

I am trying to single-handedly stimulate the US economy. Oh, sure, many people are cutting back... and what am I doing? SPENDING! BUYING THINGS! PROPPING UP THE FIBER INDUSTRY!

It's not like I'm Warren Buffett or anything; I don't exactly have billions to pump into KnitPicks, Etsy or my LYS. But... in the wake of spending a significant chunk of my savings on my wheel (and getting it here), it somehow made logical sense in my brain that what I needed -- despite the two large, full, 100-gallonliter Rubbermaid containers in the lower level that argue otherwise -- is brand-spanking new roving!

Finn sheep Lambswool.
Photo and roving from matahari spinnery.
"Finnsheep/ Finnish Landrace: Native of Finland;
this wool is semilustrous with long staples and crisped silky handle (24 micron)"

Wensleydale roving, 4oz.
source: ibid.
longwool, wonderful. I think I have some Wensleydale somewhere
but I can't remember...

And this one is just way cool:

Black Diamond, Carbonized Bamboo fiber, 4oz.
source: ibid.
from matahari's description:

"Black Diamond is a Bamboo carbon fiber. Bamboo fiber is carbonized through baking at high temperatures producing an all-carbon fiber with the exact same shape. Black Diamond is resistant to ultra violet rays and possesses anti-odor properties. It also adjusts well to humidity and dryness. Black Diamond is a dream to spin. The top glides from your hand and the natural gun metal grey color is mesmerizing. Blend it with your favorite grey or black wool for amazing results. this fiber will keep you up late dreaming!"

Black Diamond sounds like a challenge to me. I'm eager to get my hands on this and give it a whorl... (sorry, couldn't help it).

ADDENDUM: Of course, I'm also keeping in mind that in a post-economic-apocalyptic-OMG-PANIC!!!! world, the knitters, spinners and weavers will come out on top. We can barter endlessly with fiber. The farmer-fiberists will trade for something they can't grow (fibers not on their farm, finished goods they don't have time to make); the urban/suburban-fiberists will trade exotic fibers or finished goods for something they can't raise (fleece/meat). We'd all be able, whether through production or trade, to produce sufficient clothing and fleeces to keep warm even if there is no heating. We could live on lamb kebabs and goat's milk.

In a worst-case scenario, the world will go for the fiber-loving community. I'd even open up my own fiber bank. It shall be called the First Bank of Roving. It would not only be awesome, but also probably true. And I would grow rich on fiber! MUAHHAHAHAHA! Yes, the perfect plan. Now all I have to do is wait for the market thingy to drop another 5 gazillion points by lunchtime.

Also, we are now accepting deposits at the First Bank of Roving. Your fiber deposits are insured by the Empress of Knit Goddingdom for protection against moths for up to five years. We will be soon offering a wide range of Fiber Bank services, including moth-protection deposits, stashing, stash-enhancement, and hope to branch out into in-house spinning services. First Bank of Roving: for all your fiber-stashing needs.

Saturday at Sheep and Wool

A _____ sheep. Starts with a C.

When I returned home from MD Sheep and Wool, I knew how Scrooge McDuck felt diving into his Money Bin. I resisted the urge to toss bits of roving up in the air and burrow through piles of it like a groundhog.

But, let's start at the beginning. I set my alarm, woke up early and drove out to the fairgrounds with time to spare. It only took about 30 minutes to get there, and I wasn't sure if I'd have to queue up to get in or what, and I'd rather be early. I'm not much of a crowds person (says the woman who went to Sheep and Wool). I understand that the public isn't allowed until 9am to allow vendors time to set up and get settled and all that... but as it was open, I wandered in and started looking around.

Although I was not mindful of it at the time, this is the exact point when it was a good thing that I withdrew a set amount of cash from the ATM prior to arrival. At that point, I saw Misty Mountain Farm's tent [link]. And my eyes locked onto a long, lofty skein of gorgeous grey tweed.
The color grabbed my attention; the softness made me grab my wallet. I bought two skeins of their Prime Alpaca. The price wasn't even a consideration. I wanted it, and that was all there was to it. It was the yarnaholic's first taste of fiber; I did not fall--I leaped off the wagon and hit the ground skipping in a yarn-drunk delirious haze.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, now touch me babe...

The next tent I wandered into was Apaca [sic] Fun Fiber Works, where there were yarns and objects in colors that did not interest me. Then I saw, waving in the breeze, delicate tendrils of vanilla-colored roving peeking out of their light blue bags. I touched. I wanted. I bought. Three ounces of 70/30 camel down/silk roving went into my shoulder bag.

New mission in life: become good enough spinner
to spin this fiber so I can knit it into a scarf and wear it
almost continuously (except while bathing) during the winter
until it disintegrates like a toddler's baby blanket
and I can pack the shreds away in acid-free tissue paper
and reminisce about what a marvelous fiber it was.
Or, um, I'll knit it into a scarf to give to one of my friends.
One of those.

This was followed by half a pound of Leicester Longwool from Grazing Herd Sheep & Wool Co [link] in a gorgeous French Blue. A split second later, I grabbed the remaining two pounds in that dye lot. I didn't know what I was going to do with it; I had a vague idea of what it would look like spun up; I had a clear and definite vision, however, of it going home with me and us being extraordinarily happy together.

Imagine me and you, I do...

Then half a pound of cobalt blue 100% merino top.

Then half a pound of sky blue merino top.

Then two skeins of Peacock [ratio here] merino/tencel from Stony Mountain Fibers. [link]

oh, god. I'm the Hunter S. Thompson of the fiber industry.
"We had three ounces of camel down, two bags of merino,
two and a half pounds of Leicester Longwool,
a whole bag of multicolored Corriedale, and I had a feeling we'd
be getting into the Tencel blends pretty soon."

As I put my selections on the counter, I took a glance over my shoulder at the wall of Corriedale roving, sorted according to color. Like a candy store with the big tubes of M&M's, you grab a bag, fill it with what you want, and then pay a flat fee per ounce. I dashed back, grabbed a bag, and started pulling out the cotton-candy roving -- blueberry, indigo, cobalt, light blue -- and as I stuffed the bag I envisioned a gorgeous plied yarn, or at least spinning random bits of each color in succession to make a multicolored single-ply yarn.


I looked at a textile dealer who was selling new kilims, hand-woven from vegetable-dyed yarns. I was seriously tempted to buy one... as I have started to collect antique Turkish rugs and textiles. I usually get them from my godmother, who is a textile expert--and since this one was new, I had no idea of whether it was a good deal. That, and I wasn't sure whether haggling was allowed. In Turkey, it's customary -- but does that apply when buying Turkish goods in America? I decided not to buy it. After all, I was there for yarn and roving.

I went to the main exhibition building. I tried on some gorgeous shawls from The Textile Museum, but didn't buy. They're right off... one of the Metro stops... so I can go by there anytime.

I bought some pretty Brittany needles from Woodchuck Products, along with one of his hand-turned orifice hooks in Cordia. I completely forgot that a pretty wooden niddy-noddy was on my to-buy list--I would have liked to buy one from him. I have his catalog, so perhaps I still will. I had a brief conversation with a delightful lady in line with me about how she had been buying his products for years, and said that whenever she knitted or spun with them, she felt good. I can understand it.

Knitting with pretty needle increases your skill level. True.

I was so excited to see Morehouse Farm Merinos' booth. I had been eyeing their Crinoid Shawl online for a couple months, and put it on my "to buy" list for after S&W. However, instant gratification, especially when unexpected, is so much sweeter. Crinoid Shawl kit in a beautiful deep crimson lake is mine!

Then I visited Marilu, my spinning instructor. She's a wildlife artist and had all sorts of pretty scratchboard drawings and watercolors and paintings of sheep and other animals for sale.

My stomach started rumbling at that point, so I wandered into the screen-doored building where the Boy Scouts were selling sausages and sandwiches. Next to the Boy Scouts was a man selling hand-made sheep milk cheese.

On a one-to-ten scale, my love of cheese falls somewhere slightly short of a Wallace and Gromit-level obsession. It's one of the chief reasons I'm so fond of France--what's not to love about a country that's home to over 200 types of cheese? Anyway, I was a bit skeptical, as the man selling cheese didn't have any samples to try. When you go into a cheese shop in Paris, for example, you get to try it before you buy it, and the people behind the counter move about in their white lab coats to carefully select exactly the right cheese, testing them to decide which is ready to eat. I grilled the patient cheese man on the flavors and styles of his cheeses. I demanded particulars on the Metsovo's taste relationship to Gouda, and the Fromage Blanc's taste relationship to Manchego. Satisfied, I handed over my last $100. I bought a hand-molded lump of Metsovo cheese, a smoked cheese that tastes very much like Gouda at the beginning, but quickly develops a complex and powerful tang, and finishes smoothly. Here's a picture I took Tuesday morning... I guess you can tell I liked it:


Next was Fromage Fermier, a semi-soft basket-molded cheese wrapped in paper, with a natural mold rind.

If it's covered in mold, it must be good!
(Incidentally, that was the motto of my alma mater's food service, Aramark)

Last was Fromage Blanc, a wheel of hard, sharp red wax-covered cheese.


With the change I bought two roasted leg of lamb sandwiches from Greene's lamb on the other side of the aisle, had them wrapped up to go, and walked back to my car.

The change was astounding. There were people lined up 60 deep just to go into the barns where I had already wandered freely and purchased fiber. As I walked through the entrance gate, I was the only person going out, and a hundred or so were going in. Where before there had been four rows of cars, the entire field appeared to be full of parked cars, with new arrivals streaming in the drive and slowly circling around them. I had no idea so many people were coming. I was glad I was on my way out.

**Editor's Note: There's even more to this entry that I could write about the wonderful farmers/shepherds I met and in general about how friendly people there were, but that's for another post**

I stopped by my LYS and rented a spinning wheel. The owner said she had had people from New York and Michigan stop by the store who were in town for Sheep and Wool. Crazy. I bought yarn for Bryan's hat and called it a day.

You might be surprised that I didn't buy anything fuchsia. I was on a blue kick this time around. A few months ago it was lavender. Who knows what color will grab my fancy next. I hear there's another fiber festival somewhere in Virginia this fall... I had better start spinning!