I started spinning in the morning again. Every morning used to have some sort of fiber work (play), but then it just stopped. I stopped, and didn’t realize that I was missing it. It’s been nice to start the day with
The kids had no school last week. Spring break is usually just that. A break. We don’t go anywhere and this year the weather wasn’t being too cooperative for doing outdoor type activities. At least we didn’t get more than a dusting of snow in the beginning of the week. I asked Dr. Destructo (Kiddo has been swamped with homework and headaches) to draw a monster using yarn or fiber or fiber animals (however he wanted), and I did the same. These are pretty awesome.
This week has taught me that sharks, and Shark Week especially, are responsible for a creative storm over here at Knot By Gran’ma. It’s like a yarn tornado of crocheting, with my hook at the epicenter. My wheel feels like
I was walking out to the greenhouse once Dr. Destructo got onto the bus when I realized that I am a lucky jerk. After my Mom duties are finished (breakfast, getting those kids off to school), I get to work with fiber. I plucked up my warm, dry, freshly dyed alpaca. Then I rubbed my face in it and continued on with the morning. It was just as nice as putting on pajama pants fresh from the dryer. Lucky, lucky, lucky jerk. Anyway.
I’ve had these hand carders sitting around since October. They were purchased at the Rhinebeck Sheep & Wool Festival this past year. I have been a little intimidated to try them… even after watching a whole bunch of YouTube videos on how to work these weird looking, giant hairbrushes for wool. It’s also been insanely life busy around here since the new year, and I finally found an afternoon to play around with them.
I’m trying to take more pictures of what’s going on around me. This is proving to be challenging, as I’ve been putting my phone away and just living. Trying to keep myself disconnected from the gadgets hinders photo taking at times. Here are a few shots that I did manage to snap over the past few weeks.
Right. So I need to live on a farm. When I was little we lived with my Grandparents on their farm. We had chickens and apparently there was a pig in love with the horse. He used to break out of his pen daily and go hang out with the horse. That’s not weird. It’s awesome. I remember the smell of chickens, smashing my cousin’s finger under a rock, and fishing from the bridge that went over the stream. My Grandparents also had an outhouse (in addition to their indoor plumbing), and Grandpa taught my brother and I how to count in Irish. Yeah.