It’s only wool

In the short period since I started spinning, I’ve acquired quite a stash of fiber:  pillowy natural wool asking to be bathed in color and cleverly dyed braids that sit, like artifacts in a museum, adored and admired from a distance. They are too dear for my clumsy hands and my unsophisticated understanding of color.

They live in the same rarified world as the amazing Gocco set that V bought for me. Too precious and intimidating for me to use. Over the years, I have amassed a huge collection of these beautiful objects: paint sets, canvases, and fabrics.

I have to fight the fear to collect even more.


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