Six months ago, we sent our wool to a regional mill and found out—six months later—that it had been shipped. This was our first time sending our wool from our sheep.
I felt like a character in a cartoon watching the sky for the silhouette of a stork delivering my bundle (box) of joy wrapped in a blanket.
What would it be like?
Clumpy with vegetable matter because I hadn’t skirted properly?
Too loosely spun for this beginner to knit with? To thickly spun?
What about scratch factor? I talk a Big Game when it comes to hard wearing wool but that doesn’t mean I am immune to the plied pleasure of buttery fine microns slipping between my fingers and caressing my shoulders. What if this knits up like chain mail?
What if it didn’t like me? What if I didn’t like it? Could I bundle it back up, strap it to another stork and send it out of here?
I rocked. I paced. I tried to calculate the incalculable and reason with the unknown until Wednesday came and the mail cart rattled into our little courtyard. I refused to peek out the window but put my ear against the glass. I heard it:
Pummmppffhh
The dropping of a box. A box that wasn’t overwhelmingly heavy but not light. The contents sounded muffled. Insulated. Woolly.
The postman met me halfway, a little out of breath, and he handed me the precious cargo. This was our wool, from our sheep, on our doorstep.
I waited for my partner to come home from work before cracking the seal. Knitting is My Joy and I had The Idea for Sheep, but this is our wool from our sheep. He has been there every step of the way and took just as many first steps when I was too tired, scared or uncertain. He found me my first knitting lessons, while on holiday, and—as my teacher did not speak English—stood there for three hours and translated as I worked my green, garter stitch scarf.
So, I had to wait, but I could not wait until after dinner.
We sliced through the packing tape and pulled back the flaps and revealed…well…perfection. Twists of white with grey and a black, wiry outer coat (tog) all spun together. Twenty pounds of the good stuff. It’s a little bit rough and entirely lovely. This is wool to be worn, and worn and worn. It’s feels…companionable. A trustworthy, ancestor who—once knit up—will walk the trails, deflect the rain, absorb the sun and work and live alongside me.
It’s not too wispy, not too thick, not too scratchy, not too silky.
It’s just right, our one box full.
Happy weekend.
Kaitlyn
From the Swiss Camera roll: a skein from the big, box full.
But is it scratchy?!! It looks beautiful - what a wonderful feeling it will be, to wear it xx
I love the day I get the call that my wool is ready! So exciting! Congratulations!