The Forager's Fleece

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[foragersfleece]

We Are Still Here

This Pride, I'm thinking about memory.

When I was a teenager, I found And the Band Played On on a shelf in my high school library. Decades later, parts of that book still stay with me.

I also remember seeing photographs of the AIDS Memorial Quilt spread across the National Mall. I never saw it in person, only through pictures, but it stopped me all the same. The sheer scale of it was impossible to ignore. Names stitched into fabric so they would not be forgotten.

As a fiber artist, I spend a lot of time thinking about what cloth can carry.

Warmth, certainly. But also memory.

Story. Love. Grief. Hope.

The Quilt reminds me that fabric can be more than material. It can become remembrance. It can become witness. It can become a way of saying, this person was here and mattered.

This Pride, I'm thinking about those who came before us, those creating today, and those still finding their place.

We remember.

We create.

We are still here.

[foragersfleece]

Crossroads Fiber Festival happened and somehow I am still finding wool in places that wool should not be.

The studio is quieter again now. Inventory is slowly being put back into place. Skeins are being counted. Notes are being scribbled into notebooks before I forget them. The loudness of the weekend has softened back into the familiar rhythm of making.

Today’s official studio update comes from Oli, studio manager and part-time wool inspector:

The human appears more emotionally stable.

The wool piles continue expanding.

Inventory remains complicated.

Snacks are strongly encouraged.

I’ve spent most of today writing yarn descriptions and revisiting the stories behind different colorways, which honestly feels like a gentle way back into the studio after such a big first festival experience.

There is something comforting about returning to color, wool, and quiet work after so much noise.

[graceamazerocky]

Love these promo posters for The Sheep Detectives movie, sad to say the movie doesn't seem to have much of a presence in social media!

[foragersfleece]

’Twas four days before Crossroads Fiber Festival, and the wool had taken over the house.

There are bags of fiber on the floor, rolags tucked into baskets, labels waiting their turn, and a drum carder that has absolutely earned a nap. The product photos are happening in little bursts. The lists are multiplying. The booth supplies are slowly becoming less theoretical.

And somehow, in the middle of all of that, there was still a cup of coffee outside.

The peas are blooming. The mint is thriving. Oli is supervising from behind the garden boxes like a very serious little woodland foreman. For a few minutes, everything felt quiet enough to notice.

This will be my first fiber festival as a vendor, and I keep moving between excitement and nerves and that strange exposed feeling that comes from bringing handmade work out into the world. There is so much of me in these colors, these textures, these small soft things.

But maybe that is the point.

Four days before the festival, the house is full of wool, the garden is full of green, and a dream is slowly becoming a booth.

Crossroads Fiber Festival

May 23–24

Salisbury, MD

[helledeh]

Patches dropping very soon!!!! Stay tuned 👀

Utility poles, hand painted with fabric paint on denim

[foragersfleece]

Today was less about making new fiber and more about helping the finished fiber become itself.

Names, descriptions, fiber notes, weights, tags, all the little practical things that turn a batt or a rolag set into something ready to leave the studio. It is strange how much naming matters.

A pile of wool can be beautiful on its own, but once it has a name, it starts carrying a memory. A shoreline. An orchard trail. A greenhouse at night. A small flash of iridescent color. A handful of sprinkles scattered through a soft cloud.

There are still labels to type up, and I am absolutely pretending not to see them right now.

But the colors have names today, and that feels like progress.

[foragersfleece]

Some weeks feel less like graceful progress and more like trying to carry armfuls of wool from one room to another without dropping anything.

The studio has been full lately. New products drying, fiber everywhere, festival prep slowly taking over the house. My mom learned how to make a batt today, which felt strangely tender in the middle of all the noise and exhaustion.

Oli, naturally, continues to believe every wool-related activity requires close corgi supervision.

I think I’m more tired than I realized.

Still, there were small good things today:

soft fiber running through the carder,

new colorways heading into the shop,

the sound of someone laughing after finally getting the batt texture right,

a dog asleep nearby while I worked.

Not every week arrives neatly organized and beautifully balanced. Some weeks are held together with tea, wool, and stubbornness.

And honestly? That still counts.

[foragersfleece]

The studio has been full of color lately.

Not in the dramatic movie montage sort of way. More like quiet piles of wool slowly growing across the table. Batts drying nearby. Rolags lined up for photos. Tiny silk threads catching the light while I edit listings and prepare for Crossroads Fiber Festival.

Some of these colorways began as experiments. Others were inspired by orchids, weathered copper, shoreline mornings, and the strange beauty of colors changing through time and exposure.

There is still a great deal left to do before the festival, but the woolery is beginning to feel full again. Alive again.

I’ll be at Crossroads Fiber Festival on May 23–24. If you’re attending, I hope our paths cross somewhere between the wool and the color.

[foragersfleece]

the dye side quest got me again

I intended to practice spinning today.

That was the plan, anyway.

Instead, I started thinking about color for “just a minute,” which turned into soaking wool, mixing dye, watching water shift shades in the pot, and standing in the kitchen/studio doorway holding dripping skeins while wondering how it got dark outside already.

The spinning wheel never even had a chance.

Still, I don’t think the day was wasted.

There’s something comforting about following curiosity wherever it decides to go, even if it means abandoning the original plan halfway through.

The wool usually knows before I do.

[foragersfleece]

Wool Study

Today was a study in contrast.

The Dorset. White, clean, almost too neat. it didn’t quite agree with me. Maybe it was the preparation, maybe just the wool itself, but it felt coarse in my hands. Resistant. It didn’t want to draft so much as it wanted to hold its ground.

And then there was Bob.

A small bundle of Southdown, soft brown and full of life. He was the opposite in every way. Springy, warm, easy to move through the fingers. Short staple, yes, but forgiving.

The kind of wool that meets you halfway.

It’s funny how different they can feel, even before they become anything at all.

Just wool.

Just hands.

Just learning what works, and what doesn’t, and listening closely enough to notice the difference.

[foragersfleece]

I’ve been working on this setup for a while.

Not just putting it together, but sitting with it.

Moving things around. Stepping back. Wondering if it felt right.

I don’t think I realized how different this would feel.

In my old work, I could rely on what I knew. There was structure in that.

This feels softer. More personal.

Like I’m placing something of myself out in the open and hoping it lands gently.

There were a few moments where I wasn’t sure I would share any of it.

Jonathon kept reminding me to keep going, even when I got stuck in my own head.

So I did.

[foragersfleece]

Every time I pull fiber off the drum carder it looks mildly surprised.

As if it just woke up mid-dream and isn’t quite sure what reality is yet. There’s always this moment where the fibers lift back into themselves. They're soft, unsettled, and a little disoriented from being held in place.

I think that’s my favorite part. Not fully formed, not fully undone. Just in-between.

I understand that feeling more than I’d like to admit.

[foragersfleece]

The spindle turns, a little wobbly but unhurried. Normally, I use my e-spinner but my spindle looked a little sad and forlorn.

There are other things waiting, pieces half started, ideas not fully shaped. It's the story of my life. But for a little while, I let them rest.

This is where I rest. Where my mind takes a break from everything else. I don't have to rush. I don't owe anyone anything.

Right now, it's just fiber, hands and a quiet kind of focus that my tired mind needs Right now.

[foragersfleece]

I started with rolags today.

I even moved everything to the office so I could take photos, like I was going to follow through and finish something from start to end.

Somewhere in the middle of that, I picked up a bit of wool. Just a small piece. I told myself I was only going to test something.

And now there’s a small star sitting on the table, half-formed, and the mini batts are still waiting where I left them.

I keep thinking I should go back and finish them. But this felt quieter. It was easier to hold onto for a little while.

[amnhnyc]

Behold the Panamanian night monkey (Aotus zonalis)! Also known as the owl monkey, this pint-sized primate weighs up to 2 lbs (0.9 kg) and can be found in parts of Panama and Colombia. Actively primarily at night, especially around dusk and dawn, this critter uses its huge eyes to forage for food. Its diet includes flowers, nectar, leaves, and insects. It’s a monogamous primate, and mating pairs can remain together for life. 

Photo: cmmteixeira, CC BY-NC 4.0, iNaturalist

[foragersfleece]

This week didn’t stay in one place. It moved in and out of the studio, between color and quiet, between the things I meant to finish and the ones that quietly asked for more time.

I started with wool, as I usually do. Rolags came together slowly, color settling into itself as I worked. Batts followed, softer and more open, holding texture in a way I didn’t fully expect when I began.

There were moments where I stepped away without really deciding to. Outside, things are growing again—basil reaching upward, small flowers tucked into the edges of the woods, the kind of green that feels almost too bright after winter. I let myself linger there a little longer than planned.

Oli kept watch over all of it, moving between rooms, between work and rest, never in a hurry to get anywhere.

Not everything was finished. Some things are still waiting where I left them.

But the week felt steady in a way that doesn’t need to be complete to matter.

[nature-travel-photography]

Three Sisters Peak, Arizona - Author: TinglySofia