On a recent grey and rainy day here and across the pond in Drumnadrochit (near Inverness) in Scotland, I “Zoomed” with Dwynwen, owner of Loch Ness Yarns about her business, wool in the Highlands of Scotland, and her approach to natural dyes.

We hear quite a lot about “natural” and “sustainable” these days, but the execution doesn’t always live up to the reality of just how difficult and time-consuming those processes can be. For that reason, it’s always wonderful to come across an artist willing to spend the time and effort to put her philosophy front and center, and stick to her principles.

I started the conversation assuming that there are many flocks of sheep throughout the Highlands (there are) giving knitters, spinners and other crafters easy access to raw materials (not so!). In fact, nearly all of the sheep are committed to meat or textile producers, so there’s not much left over for other purposes. And, aside from the well-known Shetland sheep, there isn’t an emphasis on other local, specialized breeds for wool craft production. For the most part, the sheep are a broad mix that allow the shepherds to focus on specific outcomes — like meat or specific wool quality. The flocks still are mainly raised on small croft holdings, rather than large, industrial models, and the “sheep business” in the north of Scotland hasn’t changed significantly over time. There also is the important need to breed sheep that can withstand the climate, leaving out the softer fleece breeds like Merino.

Dwynwen’s method of sustainable dye practices have a strong link to the community. She works with the local cafe to acquire things like onion skins, and with the woodland conservators to harvest some of the traditional plants from the region. Her work has had enough impact to garner celebrity attention. In the fall of 2018, two historic oak trees were felled at the Gordonstoun School, and she had the opportunity to collect bark, leaves, lichens and acorns to use in creating dyes. Over the winter she processed the dyes, dyed the yarns, and created a line of bespoke items for the school to sell in support of the Mighty Acorns scholarship program.

Her project helped to establish the Prince Philip Foundation, and Dwynwen was invited to the launch at St. James Palace. There she presented Her Royal Highness Princess Anne with some of the finished items for her grandchildren.

Dwynwen loves teaching, and takes every opportunity to use dying to teach chemistry and maths to school children. The locals are frequent visitors to the surrounding woodlands, so the dye plants also provide the opportunity to teach a little biology.

Dwynwen and HRH Princess Anne at St. James Palace.

Loch Ness Yarns began in the manner of many small enterprises, with someone asking if her sweaters were for sale. At that time, her family had a Bed & Breakfast business, and visitors would often find her clearing her blocking boards off the dining table to make way for the next meal. There wasn’t a strong craft sales business in the region at that time, so she began small, with classes in natural dyeing and the resultant yarns. From there it grew to where she could concentrate on her art full-time, and other artisans are making their way into a growing regional craft community. Enough has changed that Dwynwen has published a book on finding yarn in the Highlands.

Curiosity also is a distinction of Dwynwen’s work. She has been trying to push the boundaries of the traditional dye cupboard by including materials from other crafts like ink-making and furniture stains. One that caught my attention was the bark and fruit of cherry trees used to make a cherry finish for furniture. That application uses alcohol for the extraction of the color, but it also can be achieved through a much lengthier process by chopping, grinding, soaking, boiling, etc. (like is done with madder). These methods aren’t really much different from others in the standard textile recipe book, but Dwynwen is looking to see if these local plant materials can expand her available choices. She has chosen to go in that direction rather than focusing on other traditional dyestuffs that were traded into the region, but not routinely available (such as woad). She also uses naturally available minerals for mordants (things like iron occur naturally in the local environment), making do with what is at hand as our ancestors did.

She has documented her processes in two books available on her website: My Colourful Kitchen and My Colourful Garden.

It actually looked better (to me) than this when I finished, but the camera shows every stitch in excruciating detail. No “fudging” this one! The offending (and offensive) seam in opened again and I pulled back 3 rows on each side to get rid of any stretched stitches. My plan is to knit the last row on either side of the graft on a smaller needle, since enlarged stitches were the biggest part of the problem. There also will be a few more swatches of the technique to learn to better control the tension,

Stay tuned. This is the last bit to finish. The sweater is otherwise seamed and ready to wear (and fits perfectly – woo hoo!). I’m still undecided about buttons on the cuffs (they would be sewn through rather than have buttonholes). It all depends on whether or not I can find something in my stash that doesn’t fight with the texture.