For the past week or so I’ve been patiently pulling locks of Gute lamb fleece through my wool cards to remove the last of the vegetable matter and as much of the long black outer coat and kemp as possible. I hadn’t thought that cards could be considered a dangerous weapon until the lock I was pulling on suddenly got caught in a fuzz ball that turned out to be some kind of spiky burr and my thumb jammed into the pins.

Harsh words were spoken, and the lock of fluffy white wool that had taken so much work to obtain was….well, you get the point.

I have been scouring fleece every day for the past week, and as each batch dries, have been trying to process as much as possible to get enough to spin a couple of ounces. The pile of what has been left in the cards far surpasses the amount I’ve managed to collect for spinning, so I expect it will be some time before I start the next step.

Fleece sorting provides a good break from sweater knitting and end-of-season vegetable prep. While things like zucchini are still cheap at the market it’s being shredded for bread and cut into slices for winter stir-fries. In fact, zucchini-cheddar bread is on the docket for today to pair with what might be the final gazpaccio of the season.

I love the band weaving from Scandinavia, and in particular some of the patterns worked on the back strap loom with a rigid heddle (photo left). They often are called Sami looms (although I suspect other groups use this style as well), and can be worked on inkle looms as well as with cards. I’m sure much of the attraction comes from my years working with bands like the ones below that come from South America. Many of them were quite ancient, but this same style is still produced today. The wild aniline colors found on some contemporary examples are sometimes the only clues to the relative age of the these pieces since the designs are timeless.

I ran into this little card set at the Kil sheep festival in February. I should say that I ran into a booth with hundreds of packets of cardweaving kits, and this set is the one that came home. It was a nearly impossible decision because all were lovely. There really isn’t a place in my house where working this with a backstrap made sense, so I searched and found a way to set it up on my inkle loom. It’s going slowly, and once again giving me insight into the patience required for weaving….patience I usually have in short supply. Still, like working with knitting patterns that reveal themselves row by row, it’s fun to see the designs emerge.

I also have to confess that this one came close to landing in a heap across the room after I dropped the warp and it became hopelessly tangled. Linen! For as wonderful as that fiber is, linen and I have a poor relationship. It twists on itself and kinks horribly given the chance. This is a wool/linen combination, and the fibers really don’t play well together with different rates of stretch and different behaviors to being pulled through the holes in the cards (the wool tends to get a little fuzzy).

The spindle collection also continues to grow. The one on the left, a variety of phang spindle comes from Bristlecone Goddess, and is also known as a Goddess Spindle. They are hard to come by, and you have to stalk the Ravelry group for a chance to purchase from her limited offerings. This one spins like a dream, and I suspect will become one of my favorites in the support group.

The upper right is a suspended (or drop) spindle from Judy Kavanagh whose studio is in Canada. Judy has many talents, and has recently published an article in the Ply magazine blog: A Woman’s Work was Never Done: Spinning in Medieval Art. It is a beautifully illustrated piece that shows her deep connection to the spinning arts and our spinning ancestors. The spindle itself is dyed Box Elder burl. I haven’t really put this one to the test, but I can tell you it’s very light-weight and fast, so I need to pair it with a fibers that will draft quickly through my hands. More on that when I learn its hidden secrets.

Finally, The spindle on the lower right hails from Australia and the Spindle Shop. Jory Freyee apprenticed with spindle master Malcolm Fielding, and then took over the business when Malcolm decided to retire. This spindle is perfectly balanced, and is heavier than I thought it would be for its petite diameter. I have a wooden lap support bowl that I like to use with my Tibetan support spindles, but the metal point on this one digs into the wood so before I spend any more time with it I need to get out a different spindle bowl.

I’ll just leave you with this shot of Bruce trying to figure out the mystery of the remote. We don’t watch that much, but one of the light bulbs recently blew out in our regular TV, so we’ve been using a little one that usually sits (unused) in the bedroom. Our normal one functions with a single tool, but the substitute needs a different remote for every activity. I promise he’s actually laughing, but I loved that he looks like he’s suffering from technology meltdown.