Trenchwork

is over, and I’m a little sad to see it go. I go into every swap a bit nervous because I really do want to find things that the recipient will not only be able to use, but enjoy, and while I look forward to what will come to me in those mystery packages, I don’t want my pal to go over budget or feel pressed in any way. After all, postage to Norway is not precisely cheap.

I also go into the swaps a bit excited, in part because I always learn something new in each swap. Yarns, needles, patterns, and neat little knitterly gizmos go swirling by in a wonderfully tempting kaleidescope of possibility, and I gain an incredibly valuable opportunity to pick other knitterly brains and “talk” to folks whose eyes don’t glaze over when you kvetch about the endless repeats on the edge of a lace pattern or drool over the softness or play of colors in a new yarn, or who really do commiserate when you rip out that six inches of colorwork sweater for what must be the sixth time.

This time I felt particularly fortunate. My secret pal was Hoi-Yan (www.hysenecal.blogspot.com) in New Jersey, and bless her heart but she had the worst end of the deal because of the impossible postage. She’s a lovely, engaging, intelligent, sensitive knitter who did a downright brilliant job of matching my preferences and wants with her gifts, and those gifts came in beautifully creative packages that made me feel like a little kid at Christmas. And don’t let her blog kid you—she got into the Master’s program entirely on her own merit.

My pal recipient was Stine (saga-i-farver.blogspot.com) in Denmark. Stine works with historical reenactment (the Viking period, folks), and it’s because of Stine that I now know about hemp and aloo as something other than dock ropes! She has an eclectic set of interests, and I found myself reading about her work and crafts in total fascination.

Of course, much as ya gotta love ‘em, I have to blame both of them as well. You see, thanks to them, I—I who have never had extra yarn—now have a legitimate stash. Because of Hoi-Yan’s gift of Zephyr, I now have four (count them: f-o-u-r) pounds of the stuff waiting to be knitted up into lovely shawls, most of which are destined to be given to family later this year. And I have sock yarn: Claudia, Lorna’s Laces, Meilenweit. And some other lovely stuff which, while a large percentage is destined for gifts, is momentarily in a 45-liter plastic box where I can still see and be amazed by all its yarny goodness.

But it’s Stine I really have to blame for being a bad influence. (smile) You see, when you go looking for gifts to encourage someone else, you inevitably find things you’d like as well. Historically, I’ve been able to browse and buy for other knitters without getting much for myself (which is partly why I’ve never owned a stash), but that has obviously fallen by the wayside, as you can see by the amount of Zephyr! This time, however, I was looking for something I was already interested in, and that proved fatal. Stine had said she wanted to learn to spin, so while a spindle and some fiber headed out to Denmark, a similar package was headed out to Norway. That’s not bad, right?

Two months later, I now have two very good spindles (a 1.8oz Cascabeles, a .7oz Bosworth) with a third (a very long-stemmed plying spindle from Tracy at Wooly Designs) on the way. There’s also a small fiber stash of BFL, corriedale, merino, cormo, alpaca-corriedale, and merino-tencel. Not a lot; there are only about three pounds total fiber. Er, but that doesn’t include the eight pounds of Brown Sheep Mill roving coming from The Sheep Shed Studio. And in the spirit of confession, I should tell you that those eight pounds are not destined for the spindles.

They’re destined for a Majacraft Rose as soon as I get the vendor and price settled.

And there you have it. I’ve suddenly found myself thinking not in terms of ounces of fiber, but pounds. It’s crossed my mind to wonder if I could convince a local sheep farmer to take in a couple of Merino. I’ve started gathering information about sheep breeds and looking up micron counts for goats, llamas, alpacas, and all sorts of furry critters who lend spinnable wool. I see carders or a drum carder for blending fibers somewhere down the road, and have started keeping an eye on the used goods shop and dollar store for a cheap but big enamel or stainless steel pot or two for setting and dyeing yarn.

There is a certain insanity to new passions, and I think I’m smack in the middle of a new and growing one. But I have to tell you that I’m totally fascinated, charmed, and a bit bemused. There’s something nearly musical in the sight and sounds of making new yarn; there’s a visual poetry, a dance in the space between creativity and physics. So for Stine and Hoi-Yan, I owe special (and genuinely sincere) thanks.

Now if I could just figure out how to stash a couple of sheep and an alpaca or two in the garage . . .