Down the Rabbit Hole

When I first started playing with yarn, I crocheted. While I now admit to being secretly envious, I scoffed at knitting. Those knitters were just crazy.

And then I learned how to knit.

I shopped at Michael's and Joann and I was happy. I made a few yarn friends who told me about local yarn stores, but after hearing about luxury yarn prices, I scoffed. Those yarn addicts were just nuts.

And then I went to a yarn store.

I petted the alpaca blends and admired the luster of silk. I marked sale dates on my calendar and discovered online sources of luxury yarn. I decided that as long as I kept to one project at a time, I could justify buying these beautiful yarns. I scoffed at yarn addicts who had huge stashes of yarn. Seriously, didn't they understand the concept of self-control?

And then I had to buy more storage containers.

I kept knitting and crocheting, now using gorgeous yarns, and I heard about some utterly mad people who actually spun their own yarn. Why would anyone want to go through the trouble of spinning yarn when all of these lovely yarns are already available? I scoffed at this foolishness.

And then I received a spindle & hand-dyed fiber on my birthday.

It's less than one year since I received that spindle. I now have 9 spindles, a spinning wheel, and enough fiber to fill three large plastic storage boxes. But at least I wasn't insane enough to start with raw fleece. I had the good sense to buy soft, beautiful top & roving, all ready to spin. I saw no need to mess with fiber preparation. I scoffed...

And then I bought a lovely raw Romney fleece at the 2010 Shepherd's Harvest festival. And I have English combs and a lovely pair of hand carders and I have my eye on a drum carder and I now have the supplies to dye my own roving & top. The Romney fleece is washing beautifully and I cannot wait to start combing it and dyeing it, and eventually make something beautiful with it. I gleefully anticipate the bone-deep, soul-quenching satisfaction of wrapping a gorgeous hand-knit scarf around my neck, made from my own hand-processed, hand-dyed, hand-spun yarn.

But at least I'm not crazy enough to raise my own sheep...