These golden, blustery days. I love that moody gray sky so much. It rained like a banshee the other day, so I went to my little spinning corner and lit a candle and spent a few hours spinning and plying some of this fleece, listening to the weather bang around outside. It was bliss. Listen, how I will ever spin all of this beautiful roving I don't know--there is so much of it! One sheep, a single haircut. I dumped it out of its basket and it completely covered the bed. The luxury of all that, oh my goodness. It was a gift to me from my dear friend Debbie, who raised a small herd of orphan sheep rescued from the animal shelter with the kind of love and care and attention you would wish for all the children of the world, so the wool is of Unknown Origin, but I'll tell you what, it is so soft and clean and is a pure plain joy to work with. This is the fleece of a sheep named Buttercup. I can't even. Dear Buttercup, your hair is magnificent. As a spinner, I am a complete novice [see results, above] but I am enthusiastic, and am always so thrilled when a few hours spent at the wheel, with it's comforting metronome of thumping along and a beautiful sheepy pile of wool in a basket beside me results in more yarn for my stash. Seriously, what is not to love about that? The yarn I make [I can make yarn!] always seems to be overspun and underplyed, and it always looks like garden twine before it's washed, but a little bath in the sink fluffs it up into a magical yarn cloud that weighs practically nothing. I don't even know what to make out of something as wonderful as this.