I want to share with you a little something I’ve been working on.
It’s my first ever handspun.
It’s not much, and goodness knows if you’re a spinner you know it’s horrible. But it’s mine.
And it’s not just handspun. Hand grown handspun.
I planted seeds, watered and waited. Then came all the growing.
Good grief, who knew cotton grew seven feet tall?
The first blooms were another revelation. I had no idea how beautiful they would be.
The forming bolls were such a treat.
And then, when the first boll split and burst open? So exciting.
I’m easily excited.
Seeding cotton is the perfect sitting-in-front-of-the-tv activity. It doesn’t require much focus. When I knit and tv-watch, I either lose half the plot (hey, who’s that guy?), or I lose track of the pattern.
The bolls open a few at a time. I packed the seeded cotton into ziplock bags and watched YouTube videos of cotton carding and spinning. Not a whole lot out there, but much more than there was before internet. Yes, I remember those days. Days when being able to watch something as niche as cotton spinning on a tahkli would require a trip to India rather than a short search on the ‘puter.
Days when people standing on the sidewalk talking something in their hand were given a wide berth.
Days when making a phone call involved standing in the kitchen, sticking your finger into a dial and moving it around and around.
Nines took SO LONG.
And zeros, don’t get me started.
There was a rhythm to it: Dial. Wait. Dial. Wait. Dial. Wait. Et cetera.
What does all this have to do with my handspun?
But maybe it has to do with why I do it. Sometimes I’m too impatient to wait for a telephone dial to spin around, and sometimes I like to do things the slow and laborious way. It may not make any sense, but there it is. Am I correcting an imbalance? Do I have a sort of technology-feuled jet lag?