Caora Dubh (Black Sheep) Update #1

"Oh," Lindsay said, "I see you've dragged out your pet sheep again."  Yes. Yes I have.  But look at her!  

Notice anything different?  In the upper left corner of this shot, you can tell:  Some of her is missing.  By which you can tell I am making progress in processing and spinning the wee beastie.  That missing area amounts to just about 1 full bobbin of worsted-spun laceweight singles.  I'm shooting for 5-ply, so there's a whole lotta spinning still to do.  And, by the looks of it, a whole lotta washing, too. 

Here's what I do:  Pull off individual locks from the fleece.  I take about 40 locks, and keeping them intact, place them in these little mesh zipper bags.  These are actually packing cubes that I bought for a trip abroad once.  Each holds just the right number of locks for me to scour, comb and spin at a sitting.  It takes me about an hour and a half to do a bag, and 8 bags = 1 bobbin.  

Here's what the locks look like after washing, but before combing:

So now if you are wondering what ever happend to my big fat plan for spinning a whole fleece, you have the answer.  I'm eating an iceberg, one snow cone at at time.

Next time: Singles!

 

Caora Dubh (Black Sheep)

                There once was a lass who loved fleeces
                So much that she went all to pieces
                She gave all her money
                To bring home this honey
                And now she's far richer than Croesus

Don't be fooled by the sun-bleached tips (those come off in the processing)  - this baby is blacker than night.  Sally Bill Special Fleece, Island Fibers, Lopez Island, WA

Phillip was so relieved that I did not bring home a sheep last weekend, I haven't had the heart to tell him about this.  Difficult though it may be to believe, he hasn't noticed it yet (He distracts easily).  If my posts come to an abrupt halt, you'll know he didn't take it well.

My decision to purchase a whole raw fleece is the absolute pinnacle of overconfidence.  While I know academically what I'm supposed to do to turn this into yarn, I have no idea how the execution will really play out.  I am absolutely in love with everything about this fiber, and I don' think I'll ever get tired of playing with it.  That said, I do worry that I'm in over my head.  I have only the most rudimentary of fiber processing tools: soap, water, a dog comb.  Putting this in my car at the festival felt like declaring that I intend to eat an elephant with a teaspoon: At best, it's gonna take time.

In spite of my trepidation (intrusion of rational thoughts), I managed to pull off some hunks of this, wash it, comb it, and spin it.  Two words:  YEAH BABY.

If loving wool is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

And The Winner Is...

Congratulations to reader Janina, for her prize-winning entry in our "Name the 6-Bobbin Plying Kate" Contest!  I hereby proclaim that the device formerly known as "Mommy's Yarn-making Thingy", "The Katinator", and "What Was That Spooly-thing Again?" will henceforth and forevermore be called...

The Crazy Kate!

Thank you Janina, for your delightful play on words, and for contributing the final piece to the 6-bobbin plying Kate puzzle.  It's important that things all have their proper names, yes?

Janina will be receiving a skein of handspun yarn, made from handpainted fleece from Wales, as her prize.  I also offer a congratulatory round of applause for all of the other delightful entries I received. Thank you for joining in and playing along.

Tomorrow I depart for the Black Sheep Gathering, where all things fleecy can be learned, bought, sold and coveted.  If I don't come home with an actual sheep, it won't be my fault.  Just a BIT excited.  I will report back with all the details on Monday.  In my absence, the extremely talented and notably forthright Phillip will offer you a guest post.  I have no idea as to its subject, but I can promise that Mr. Huff's unique perspective will both entertain and enlighten.  He has the best of all possible worlds, after all:  Gets to live with a Knitter, AND Gets to appreciate her yarn collection. 

Lucky Sod.