Paying it forward
Saturday, Mom and I went to Townsend, TN to participate in the Smoky Mountain Fiber Festival. When we arrived, Carol and LouAnn were already set up in a corner of the vendors' room, the Townsend Elementary gymnasium, ready to demonstrate weaving. They had their Shacht Wolf Pups warped, and LouAnn had lots of straw weaving kits to sell and demonstrate. Kay was there, in her beautiful handwoven skirt and shawl.
We taught people to weave with the straw kits, young and old alike. We had families, stray children and adults, bleary eyed from their morning classes in need of less stressful creativity. It was a little slow getting started, so I wandered through the vendor area. I fondled Alpaca rovings, met friends who lured me to angora skeins, bumped into Mom at Walter Turpening's booth of amazing stools and chairs.
And then, it happened. I fell in love. I didn't mean to. Does anyone ever really mean to be unfaithful? I've been ignoring the siren song of spinning for a very long time, since that day the Center had "spinning day." Everyone who had them brought their spinning wheels and drop spindles, their rovings and plies. I tried each method briefly and announced to all that "that's why there are yarn stores!" And went back to my loom. But here, among the perfectly good, already spun yarns, was the wheel I wanted. Sleek, unadorned, complete in every way; sealed ball bearings and lazy kates and bobbins and multiple speeds, able to do stuff I do not understand the importance of.
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