A clap of thunder brought me back to the moment. Sitting in front of my wheel, I looked hard at the wool in my hands. It had been cold, gray, and rainy for the past week. A few hours earlier, I’d pulled out my drum carder and decided to make a few batts from some of the beautiful Jacob fleece I had washed and separated into piles of grays, whites, blacks, and even a pile with tan overtones.
It was September 2022. Here in the Pacific Northwest we were just beginning to come back together. The small groups with masks had begun to yield to larger groups outdoors without masks. It was still precarious, but my husband, Greg and I, had decided to hold our first Guanaco Spinning Retreat.
At the time of writing this, it is already June, the season of Pride. I wonder, readers, what comes to mind for you when you think of Pride month? How has that changed over the years? Historically, I have viewed Pride as a joyful celebration of authenticity and vulnerability. While I think joyful celebration swaddled in authenticity and vulnerability is a wonderful thing, and still rings true, there is more to it. Pride is so much bigger than “Love Is Love.” Especially this year.
While researching and writing my book on festivals, Fiber Gathering, published in 2009, I went to a lot of festivals and events. Every experience was different, with so many special things to buy or new experiences! Here are some tips for how to research and plan purchases, classes, and adventures to make the most of your next fiber event.
In a things-are-somewhat-back-to-normal-but-not-quite year, 2022 became not just a time to reacquaint myself with society, it also became a year to carve a new identity.
Featuring: The Granite Web Makers of New Hampshire.
A dream trip to Scotland in 2019 culminated in a visit to the 10th annual Shetland Wool Week. After an eventful 12-hour ferry ride from Aberdeen, we arrived in Lerwick, Shetland at the beginning of our 9-day visit to the lovely Shetland Isles.
Mni Sota Makoce rests on unseated Dakota and Anishinaabe people’s land and recognizes eleven federal tribes within its borders. I am currently residing near Wakpá Tháŋka (the Mississippi River), just a few miles upriver from Bdoté, the place where the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers join. I am joyful to be living in this land with three natural watersheds, where farming and shepherding are a piece of our robust state economy.
As the world seems to be getting smaller and smaller, the place we call home is our touchstone. Where we live holds pieces to the puzzle of our identity. Our values and attitudes can be molded by our place. Place determines the comfort food we eat and the way we dress. It even inspires our art and the materials we choose to express ourselves.
