Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Treat

I sat down yesterday at my spinning wheel and before I realized it, three hours had gone by.  Isn't that the best feeling in the world? When you're that absorbed by something and you just can't even tell time is passing?  I am in constant pursuit of that feeling, I think.  It's such a treat.  I filled two bobbins with Buttercup's fleece, and am letting it hang out there as singles for a day, to set the twist.  By the way, spinning:  I am such a total and complete novice at this beautiful craft, and I have only the most rudimentary understanding of any of it, but wow, it is so much fun.  It is such a comfort, the repetitive treadling while soft fibers pass clumsily through my fingers.  I love love love it.  I don't know why I wait so long in between times, and why Buttercup's fleece is still such a gigantic basket full of fiber that has not become diminished in any way, despite so many hours of working with it, but that seems to be the magic of fleece. It never becomes gone, at least I've never seen it happen.  Why, as Doc has wondered, does the world need more than just the one sheep? A single fleece lasts me forever.  Buttercup, you may recall, was one of my dear friend Debbie's cherished flock of adopted orphans, and nobody knew anything about her, so her breed is a mystery.  I don't know anything about fleece yet, either, so I can't even make a guess.  The fleece is white, and it's as soft and weightless as fog.  I've been enjoying Sarah's Fibertrek podcast (which, by the way, just might make you start knitting monogamously, and also in all gray) and have  learned a few things about fleece and spinning through watching her that have eluded me up until now.  Actually, I think there are some things about spinning--don't even mention "grist"--that may elude me permanently (repeatedly I look up "grist" and try to understand it, and Doc of course understands it immediately, but I just feel my brain go dead and skip down the paragraphs looking for where the fun words start up again.  Much like photography, and "aperture".  I can't.  I can't!) but yesterday I looked down at the prepared fleece funneling out of the basket and into my lap and went "Oh!  This has been carded!  It is ready for me to spin it "woolen"!  Which, happily, is what I've been instinctively doing with it!"  Lucky break, that.  It was nice to have that lightbulb go on.  I'm getting closer, but as with all new things, there is so much more to know.  Photos on a gray day of bobbins full of spun singles are blurry and dull, so here's Catdog for you instead.  She knows exactly how to spend a slow, rainy morning.  She opened her eyes briefly, between snores, to say hello.