Yarn on the Hoof

Our Saturday football game was in the middle of nowhere this week. Miraculously, it was the same middle of nowhere as the sheep farm where I bought my spinning wheel in August. So, naturally, a field trip was in order!

The boys enjoyed feeding these guys dried leaves, which the goats munched down like potato chips.


I did wonder aloud what you get from this type of goat, since they're clearly not cashmere or angora goats, and I don't think the males give milk. The owner set me straight. Shhh. They don't know they're "meat goats."

Now, these are clearly wool sheep. You can tell by the neat coats that protect their fleece from dust, leaves, and, well, poo. Apparently, the coats keep them much cleaner than sheep without coats. They certainly appeared clean and well-cared-for. But they must have heard about the "meat goats," because they looked decidedly suspicious and wouldn't come any closer than this.

As for me, I proved once again that I am helplessly wanton in the face of beautiful fiber, even in the presence of witnesses.

That's a sweater's worth of merino/silk, which I've had my eye on for a while, plus a shawl's worth of alpaca/silk, which the owner of the farm shamelessly induced me to buy through the simple and expedient tactic of opening the bag and inviting me to touch the fiber. I've felt butter that's scratchier than this fiber. The only question then was whether I should buy all she had, cackling madly and repeating hoarsely "Mine, all mine!" or perhaps exercise a little self-restraint and keep the total bill down to a merely hair-raising amount, instead of an amount that would cause my very-tolerant (but still fiber-resistant) husband to balk, or make pointed comments about the difference between income and outgo. I held myself to a mere eight ounces, which, if I can master spinning lighter weight yarn, should be enough for a lovely shawl (Icarus? Who's Icarus? La, la, la--I can't hear you!). The picture does not even come close to doing justice to the exquisite colors and sheen of these fibers. I am almost afraid to attempt spinning them, for fear I'll make a hopeless mess of such artistry. But since I can hear them singing to me when I'm looking the other direction, I probably won't be able to hold out long.

Icarus Countdown: Stalled. Friday arrived as expected. My yarn, alas, did not. UPS assures me it will be delivered Monday. I'm trying to ignore the film of sweat behind my knees as my deadline looms ever nearer...