#craftmblr

[foragersfleece]

Raspberry Lemonade is becoming yarn.

This colorway first appeared in the studio as rolags — bright raspberry pinks and soft lemon yellows blended together into a cheerful little pile of fiber.

I put them in the shop and they disappeared faster than I expected. Then I made more… and those disappeared too.

Since then, quite a few people have asked if the colorway might eventually become yarn.

So I’m listening.

Raspberry Lemonade is officially joining the yarn line at The Forager’s Fleece.

I’ve opened pre-orders while I start preparing the dye baths and winding skeins. The first batch will begin shipping March 20.

It’s always a little magical watching a colorway grow from loose wool into something that will eventually become someone’s sweater, shawl, or pair of socks.

Now I’m off to the dye pots.

[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]

’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

[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]

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]

Today was a full dye day in the studio.

The kind where the sinks fill up with wool and skeins slowly take over every available surface.

Dye jars open.

Colors blooming in warm water.

More yarn than I expected somehow fitting into the tubs.

At one point I stepped back and realized there were forty skeins in various stages of becoming.

Right now it looks a little chaotic.

Some are still soaking.

Some are being rinsed.

And a whole shelf of fiber is now hanging quietly to dry.

This part always feels a little strange —

the moment between dyeing and finished yarn.

The colors are still settling,

the wool is still deciding what it wants to be.

Tomorrow they’ll be twisted into skeins.

But tonight the studio just looks like this.

Forty skeins and a lot of hope.

[foragersfleece]

Maker Diary — Madder Experiments 🌿

Over the weekend I went down a little madder rabbit hole.

I’ve been chasing that traditional deep madder red for a while now, and it made me wonder what would happen if I nudged the dye vat in different directions… so I ran a small experiment.

Same dye. Same wool. Four slightly different dye baths:

1️⃣ Control — our tap water (pH 8.21)

2️⃣ Alkaline bath — pH 9.6, no calcium

3️⃣ Alkaline bath — pH 9.6 + calcium added

4️⃣ Slightly acidic bath — pH 6.5, no calcium

It’s kind of amazing how the same plant can shift so much just from small chemistry changes.

I still haven’t reached that deep traditional madder red I’m chasing… but I feel like I’m getting closer with every experiment.

I definitely have a favorite, but now I want to know yours 👀

Which one would you choose? 1, 2, 3, 4?

[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.