Weaving Weekend Part 2- What we did

I taught two classes in the bunkhouse day room on Saturday-

one on knitting mitered squares (this is Laura, Kelly, Connie and Ruth), and another class of Tips and Tricks (I forgot to take a pic). As always, my classes were filled to the brim with genius students. I was especially pleased with the Mitered Square class, because this was the debut of that workshop, and it went very well (the one minor glitch was easily remedied- just a shift in the size of the mitered square sample to be knit to two four-square pieces, to be sewn together later. That gives everyone time to work the entire progression, and the fast knitters can repeat the set for practice).

But Friday and Saturday evenings were all for play- and boy did I play.

The spinning circle set itself up almost immediately, and during every waking hour (except when we were eating, and sometimes even then- it is possible to spin and eat at the same time- spinners have Mad Skillz, lemmee tellya), spinners made glorious yarns. I counted at least six different styles of wheel,

including this Ettrick Wind Wheel that Marie brought and demoed.

It may not be obvious in the first shot that the treadle just sort of hangs there, on that loop, steadied by its own weight and the pressure of the spinner's foot. It gently sways back and forth as it's being treadled. It's a hypnotic wheel, and Marie says that it takes a bit of getting used to. I loved looking at it, but did not consider trading in my Ashford Joy.

Kelly brought along some fiber, fleece and yarn to sell from her shop. It was all very tempting, but I brought along my own wool, and a whole bag of cotton sliver to spin (and the Yarn/Fiber Buying  Moratorium is still in effect).

Connie brought her loom. She's making table runners, and I do not want a weaving loom. Nope. I. do. not. want. one.

Marie brought a triangle loom, and worked on a shawl throughout the weekend. I. do. not. want. this. loom. either.

We laughed and learned and enjoyed the company of folks who don't look at you funny when you say that you love the smell of raw fleece.

I wish I could tell you the story of the legless pet chicken (named, I kid you not, Peg. Peggy Eileen. seriously), but Peg's owner doesn't want the whole world to know that she carts a hen around with her on overnight trips.

I can tell you about the yarn we made, and the yarn we dyed. I'll do that tomorrow.