World Of Yarn
Living with a weaver has its peculiarities. Besides the looms and all the strange wooden contraptions for wrangling wool, silk and linen, is the yarn. Lots and lots of yarn...
I'm not complaining, I buy most of it myself (at the thrift store). When I am feeling house-bound and bored I sometimes wander into the weaving room to examine the skeins and balls and bags of yarn there, and the labels they have from faraway places and exotic creatures and plants.
Swedish, Irish and Scottish linens, tough strings for delicate runners and place mats. Some outrageous pink-n-black tweed wool from France. A few balls of Norwegian wool here and there, and, of course, all that Icelandic Lopi for knitting. Some færie-like mohair from England is nestled between a bag of Brazilian Santos and a lonely ball of merino wool/possum fur from New Zealand. There is some Peruvian alpaca somewhere, I just can't put my finger on it...The weaver is trying to get me hooked on looms, or maybe some 'nittin'...I dunno, is this old dog up to learning some new tricks?