Important Note: This is another series of blog posts where, when the events described within were transpiring, we did not take notes, and so here I am, thousands of years later, attempting to give context to images that, while able to trigger fragments of memories, act as an incomplete picture of the story. Sure enough, we should have been tending to these things without fail, but little did we understand the value of revisiting milestones later in life. And so, without that proverbial further ado, here we go into a murky past.
Can you, too, sense the symbiotic relationship between that cheek and the soft fibers that are being nuzzled in this photo? I’m here to share a secret: my wife is a fiber fetishist. All fiber and yarn she buys must pass the cheek test before it ever ends up in her stash, and if it’s a particularly rarified softier-than-all-other-softnesses that could be attributed to such a thing, she tries pulling me into this sordid perversion of hers and will ask me to come over and feel this merino-alpaca blend or whatever else the fiber might be so that I might ooh and ah too. The things I need to do for love.
This is a Wiccan circle of yarn witches working on an incantation meant to return humanity to its tree-hugging granola roots…I don’t know about you, but it seems to be working on me.
If you are a novice spinner, you might despise your lumpy yarn, but Adrian, who is demonstrating this “beehive” technique, is intentionally adding these flourishes of yarn balls. I find it funny that once a person learns how to make yarn correctly, they struggle to add variations (code for lumps) and must learn to intentionally influence what ends up on the bobbin. Hmm, maybe I know a little too much about this stuff?
Ooh, I didn’t know that Nikol was bringing in a petting zoo today.
Oh my god, she butchered those goats, turning one of them into hotdogs and the other two into burgers. I don’t think I’ll be taking lunch here today.
You must be kidding; it was just announced that Angora rabbit is on the menu for dessert. I’ve had about enough of yarn school now.
This is a horrible experience; in a Swedish chef voice (remember the Muppets), Nikol shaves the rabbit, explaining how the hair will be used in a burnt sugar style crust à la Crème brûlée that will top the candied rabbit meat. This Wiccan stuff is off the chart. Should I contact the local ASPCA?
Thirteen fiber witches sleep here in this kind of nocturnal coven.
This nonsense has probably gone on long enough, but hey, you try writing about a yarn school happening that took place nearly 14 years ago and see what you come up with. Caroline is demonstrating spinning on a Charka, an Indian spinning contraption. It was one of the gifts I got her for her 40th birthday.
This 7th order Wiccan circle…oh yeah, I was supposed to stop this. By the way, I don’t know if you can see this, but Caroline has been cast out and is sitting by herself off to the right in the blue shirt. It’s sad to be her.
Just like running out of things to write, aside from the bologna above, I must have run out of stuff to photograph, so I wandered into the quiet space of the dye lab and tasted a couple of flavors; they definitely don’t taste like Kool-Aid.
Always a sucker for the psychedelic aspects of the magic conjured here. Behold the sorcery of the spinning wheel and accumulating yarn.
I can only wonder how much of what I wrote here today will remain after my editor (seen above) has her chance to tease apart the folly of writing I’ve shared here.
[No worries! I’m amused, so most of it stays – Caroline]
And now, without further ado, I return to all seriousness as this cake was presented to Nikol in appreciation for her incredible efforts to make a perfect Yarn School experience.
