In the Grease

My spinning wheel and I have been having a torrid love affair lately. Yards upon yards have flown by between us and ultimately worked into something like love incarnate.


Last night, I worked hard to uncable the yarn I had spun on a drop spindle at Pennsic, and wound up with probably 150 or so extra yards of fabulously even yarn, perfect for the Swallowtail Shawl, that otherwise would have gone to waste since I had repurposed the roving since Pennsic. As of an hour ago, I am two rows from finishing the 14th repeat of the Budding Lace chart and switching to the first Lily of the Valley chart, and I believe I have decided to go with beads instead of nupps. Since I am already working a nupp-like stitch (Reverse Irish Knot) on the Lager Socks, I think I might stab myself in the eye with my steel crochet hook if I have to work even more such stitches.


I love how the beads line up so nicely in this picture.


Let’s not focus on the flaws, of which there are many.

Tuesday, after a whole morning spent with doctors, I decided to take Grace and Grandma on a great explore to the Chesterfield County Fair. I confess, I was hoping to see some fabulous fiber-stuff there, but I was disappointed. The quilts, which I forgot to get a picture of, were the nicest things there.

Grace had a ball though.
She knows a cow says “Moooo.”

And motorcycles are cool.

And so are the guys who look after us:

That funnel cakes are the Daisy Cutters of calorie bombs, but they are so worth it.

That this is where Mommy’s yarn comes from.

And that this was one fierce little goat who pushes everyone else around.

Did she have a good time?

The funniest thing I saw at the Fair was this ride:
Photobucket Photobucket

It is a ride. It is a slide. It is strangely uncaring of the 1500+ lives lost. It is hysterical to see kids sliding around on it like the poor bastards at the end of the movie Titanic. I had to get pictures. How could I skip that?

Last night, I found some liquid courage and dived into a box full of a corriedale fleece that was given to me in July. I don’t know how old it is. I don’t know if it is any good or not. I have never played with a raw fleece, but I do know this fleece is very matted, filthy, and not sheared by a professional. It may be a total loss, or it may not, but last night, I pulled (rather, ripped off) some small sections and started trying to clean the wool.


(Note the Sam Adams. I was not feeling very confident.)

This stuff was incredibly dirty. This picture was from the THIRD wash and you can still see how nasty the water is.

I don’t know much of anything about felting, and one thing I didn’t know was that shocking the wool with a change in temperature could cause felting, which I think is mostly what I achieved with the second batch, but the first batch cleaned up and fluffed up pretty nicely. Of course, I forgot to take a picture of it on the drying rack.

In my excitement about playing with the stuff right off the sheep, I contacted a sheep breeder in Buckingham County (about an hour away) who works specifically with Icelandic sheep, about two fleeces she was offering on her site. I received a request today from someone about spinning a heavy single in natural colors and in full grease, for a commission she has received for naalbinding for a historical reenactor. Should be fun to see what I can do.

Tonight, I pick and card the samples I washed (or wash the second one again since I don’t think it was clean enough.). Also, I am going to try cold washing some more of the fleece to see if I can come up with clean fleece complete with grease. (Always alliterating, I am.)


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