Oh, my goodness. There’s something about it, isn’t there? Janine gave me BEST lesson, ever. She taught me history and technique, and she was patient, and she made me feel like I was doing great, even though it was obvious that I wasn’t — I couldn’t even get the wheel to go only one direction — it kept turning and unspinning/tangling the yarn into great lumpen messes.
Oh, but it’s fun. She loaned me her Ashford Traditional (made in my mother’s NZ hometown, Ashburton) as well as a book, and the oil, and the little picker-thing that I know has a real name, and a Lazy Kate, and she showed me what to do with it all!
Busyangelmom asked in a comment: What is behind this
recent motivation that keeps cropping up in all the serious
For me, it’s something I’ve always, always been drawn to, ever since I was a kid. I used to open the vitamin bottles and remove the cotton balls and spin them into thread. I would sit on the couch for HOURS doing this, never doing anything with the thread, just wanting to spin. Maybe it IS the New Zealand sheep-farm blood coming to the top, but ever since I saw a woman spinning on her Traveller at a bluegrass festival ten years ago, it’s been something I haven’t been able to let go of.
What I was scared of was buying a wheel and realizing belatedly that I hated spinning. Janine kind of laughed at that, I think. She was right. I love it. I’m thinking about the Traveller, myself, since I could take it to, say, bluegrass festivals. Or Lala’s house. Or, you know. Just the fact that it folds. That’s way cool. I like foldie-things.
It’s like learning anything else, though. I’m impatient. I’m frustrated when I’m not great at it right NOW. I’m getting better, and the learning curve is steep, as everyone says. But when someone tells me a learning curve is steep, I think: Great! I’ll be a master at it and spinning gossamer moonlight by Wednesday. Instead, my spinning isn’t that clumpy anymore. That’s the best that can be said. But look. I’ll show you.
That first ugly white thing was supposed to be yarn. I swear. Stop laughing. The second skein is a little better. The third, not any better than the second (all from Correidale top).
See? That almost looks like the real thing, don’t you think?
I was so excited this afternoon that my first skeins were finally dry and ready to be wound into (teeny-weeny) balls.
And then I had to:
It’ll eventually be a scrappy little scarf. I have to tell you, it’s surprisingly soft.
I’m in love. Dude. Love.
Get a Free Short Story!
Subscribe to get a free copy of Socks for Alex, a Cypress Hollow Short Story, compatible with all devices!