I can’t look at anything else.
I have a Merino fleece, three-quarters of the way into bags for washing, hogging space on one of my dining room chairs.
I have three-fifths of a knitted shawl, awaiting attention.
I have a neck scarf, huffily waiting on its fringe.
I have half of a winter vest, which may not be finished until spring.
I have a (beginner’s) sashiko cloth (sort of) and my first quilt, only needing borders.
But I’m spinning. Spinning until my hands ache, spinning until my legs go numb. Gotta have yarn to dye, and dammit, if I’m going to use it to embellish something handmade, it’s going to be my own handspun. Dammit.
This silk is very fine, and meant to be used almost as sewing thread, although it isn’t nearly as fine as that. For size, see the comparison to the penny. I spun and plied three bobbins, and when the first bobbin ran out I made two-ply of the rest.
Once I’ve finished the wool (I’m half done), I’ll parcel it and the silk into several yards-long samples, mordant it, then dye. I plan to do more bougainvillea, as what I finally ended up with is brilliant and beautiful, but not very fine. Also planning for rosemary, yellow dock, and more lichens. A tragedy, the lichens. I’ll likely use up what I harvested in August, and that will be the end of that.
If you need me, I’ll be spinning.