Some wools arrive in my hands like a whisper, others like a friendly knock on the door. I don’t try to force them into something they’re not; I listen, draft a little, and wait for the yarn to tell me where it wants to live.
Merino is the hush at the edge of morning.
It slides and blooms, and when I spin it a touch finer, it gathers itself into soft, floaty yarn that loves shawls and anything worn close to the skin. I think of wedding mornings, small knots of light caught in lace, and the kind of warmth that doesn’t shout.
Corriedale – a cheerful conversation
Corriedale feels like a good conversation – springy, steady, cheerful. It drafts in an easy rhythm and gives me a yarn with a little bounce that behaves beautifully in socks, everyday hats, and cardigans you reach for without thinking. It forgives small wobbles and still looks tidy in the fabric.
Romney has a straight-backed honesty I admire.
There’s body and a clean line to it, and the yarn asks for work that sees weather: sturdy mittens, outerwear, a throw that travels from the sofa to the porch to the car and back again. It holds shape and wears its miles with pride.
