Thursday, October 12, 2006

The same part of a different forest.

Which has only the merest connection with what I am going to blather on about.

Began the day well? Not exactly! I overslept - not by a huge amount, but this would of course be the day that the builders arrived early. No doubt to catch up on being rained off by yesterday's deluge, which is very praiseworthy. But I did not enjoy being finally thrown into consciousness by heavy footsteps overhead (I have absolutely no idea what they are doing now, having finished the actual laying on of tiles). I then had a mad scramble into clothes just in case they needed access to the house, and once I start scrambling I find it hard to stop, mentally at least, so I am still all of a doo-da. Coffee appeals, but I hate to think what the caffeine will do to me - still, I have a hairdresser appointment at lunchtime, so that will calm me right down, always does.

There was another minor disaster this am, an' all. Went to take a photo for the blog, and find the shutter seemingly jammed on the Samsung! It may be as simple as needing the battery changed (crossing fingers, which makes typing difficult) At least if it is worse than that, we have time to take it in to the shop on Saturday with a day or two to spare before leaving for SF. But I could do without these little hiccups.

Now then. This was - is - intended to be a serious fibre post, believe it or not. Whilst having my breakfast in an unaccustomed spot courtesy of the early arrival of the builders, I noticed the DSM's niddy noddy full of his three ply sock yarn. It is beautiful stuff, spindle spun and plyed, and is going to make the most wonderful pair of socks. Worthy of a mention just in its own right. But what suddenly interested me was thinking about the yarn I had spun from the self-same fibre. (Well, not exactly, but you do know what I mean, so stop sniggering at the back, there.)

Now, as a teacher of spinning, and general all-round know-all, I often get into conversations about how the fibre dictates what the yarn shall be. To which I always reply, "Well, yes, kind of.) Because yes, it is true that you cannot spin a delicate fine laceweight yarn from Herdwick, if you get my drift. But I do know perfectly well, that the second half of my riposte, that it is the spinner that is in charge and decides on the form that the yarn shall take, is the fuller picture.

And here is the evidence to support the hypothesis. Please note the 50p coin for scale........

same fibre, different yarns

The upper yarn is the DSM's ultra-fine firmly-spun three-ply worsted yarn, the lower my medium weight, two-ply semi-woollen spun.

One of the reasons that I love this game.

3 comments:

Midsummer night's knitter said...

I'm not worthy....
India

Leigh said...

Loving Mabel Ross as I do, I agree that the spinner is in charge! Still, some fibers do seem to whisper their secret desires to the spinner's heart.

Anonymous said...

Hi Carol

Well we found you at last - you thought you were hidden from your intrepid students but there was no stone unturned.

See you next month!