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.

And growing.

And 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?

Probably nothing.

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?

Maybe.  And I guarantee, this helps.