This past winter I met a wonderful woman. I would call the whole thing synchronistic and oddly simple, but I cannot say I didn’t put a lot of intention and thought into wishing to know more about the wool arts.
I have been feeling a bit unenthused with the routine of my work life. It has become predictable and inevitably when early spring hit I was feeling like dried out skin. I needed rejuvenation and was seeking out new potential careers, internships, anything! I browsed online classifieds and fantasied about working for some organic farmer out in Colorado for the summer; they had bees and alpacas. I had to come to my senses eventually, which was painful, and realize that I had made commitments that required me to stay put for the season, and that is what I had to do.
Once I acknowledged that I would be required to stay in the Keweenaw to fulfill my engagements I went on a search online for local places that might have a need for a farm hand. I searched “alpaca” and “wool” and “internship” on craigslist – I was at work and admittedly was taking an “extended break” as I’ll call it, browsing through all the listing when then walked in Barbara.
The tale is really too long to detail, but suffice to say, this older woman and I hit it off quite well. She was a knitter, and through conversation had let on that she raised Icelandic Sheep and had spun her own wool. I was floored at the fortuitous and oddly synchronistic meeting.
Since our first meeting we have met several times and have discussed all of what she does, what she’s passionate about, and have developed more or less a master-apprentice relationship. I have acquired roving this week and received my first lesson on how to spin.
Barbara gave me this wheel to take home and practice with. Like most things I’ve come to learn, it takes truly little handling to achieve the results you wish. A light touch, a slight weight transfer, delicate tension. So much we approach new skills with an intense vigor, like we need to beat the skill into submission to become ours. I’ve tugged, and forced, and pressed that pedal on the wheel and have ended up with squiggly over-spun messes. With practice comes knowing, and the knowing comes calm. I’m working to dance with this wool and not be a clumsy oaf stepping all over it’s feet.
Onward.