Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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2 Comments:Would it be of help to borrow my drum carder or combs? I'll see She-who-remains-blogless tomorrow, and can pass on tools through her, to be returned during visits later this summer....
"The rest was slurs cast at everyone else who sat upon his legs through the afternoon cobbling his shoes and sewing his shirts." Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Wednesday, July 13, 2005 Sining my song, Erica. I remember now why I never read more Thoreau than was required. I can’t stand him! What a puritanical nagging scold. In 10 pages of Walking he said nothing about walking except that he walked to the southwest. The rest was slurs cast at everyone else who sat upon his legs through the afternoon cobbling his shoes and sewing his shirts. I make no claims to being an ecologist - though I try to be a good steward to my land - but for my part, a better nature writer is Ewell Gibbons, who not only delighted in his own forays but couldn’t wait to share his bounty when he returned. I appreciate a simple life and have incorporated many aspects of it into my own. I love to write about the particular attributes of my slower, low maintenance life - about the gifts I’ve received. But I don’t try to compare them to lesser, more unfavorable lifestyles - at least, not when I write. Perhaps it’s hypocritical of me, since I think unfavorably of many of them and smugly pat myself on the back for the choices I’ve made. But I know that is just my own indulgence in arrogance. I don’t deny myself that guilty pleasure, but I don’t inflict it on others. So. It is nice to know I don’t have to read any more Thoreau. Today it is the Greeks - and taxes! Last night was the TKN group - very small but happy. I took my colored fibers bought at MSW because I’d spun up a sample and some of the women hadn’t seen the Bag-0-Color yet. As I dumped the beauteous heaps onto the table I suddenly knew exactly what I would knit with the yarns I’d spin from this - I could see it all roll out in front of me - even the type of pleasure I was going to have spinning the different colors. It was just a flash - a visceral reaction - a knowing. But it was such a relaxing experience - that confident sensation that the spark of artistic life was not only still there but had been doing it’s thing all along, buried beneath the emotional swampland of TheQueen’s Angst. In addition, I am getting really excited about the weekend. Even though my spinning skills are rusty, I believe they’ll be good enough for the classes. I re-read the supply list and, short of a drum carder or combs, I have everything else, including the fragrance free Priss fur. Thanks to Cindy we will have wet and sticky for another 3 days, just in time for wet and sticky from a different weather source. Evidently the eastern half of the hurricane is sucking WeatherFL up the coast and wrapping it around us. My house smells like wet dog. I am still a little behind on getting those ThingsWhichMustBeDone done - but there is time - and hope. Perhaps by tonight I will feel more of confidence and less of hope. I hope so. posted by Bess | 7:20 AM |
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