I love wool, the feel of it and particularly the smell of it. I love it most when it is fresh from the sheep, raw, straight from nature, just like stones, leaves, shells and twigs (I'm particularly thinking of willow twigs to make baskets from). My house is full of these things, they are free, beautiful and can simply go back to nature when I need to move on.
I spent 2 months in Norway 4 years ago rolling fleeces all day most days. It was heaven for a wool lover like me, arm full of wool, taking great sniffs when I thought no one was looking. Unfortunately, apart from the heaven of having my arms full of fresh wool all day, I have never been so miserable in my life...but that is definitely another story..
Anyway...back to wool
|nice white wool, washed and drying in the sun|
|not so nice brown wool, ditto|
|carders and rolags (I beg your pardon?)|
|me with my drop spindle in action|
|drop spindle with nice white wool|
|flower on arm that I'm particularly proud of|