A Better Kind of Spinning

“Should I get a spinning wheel?” I asked Tom.

“What?”

“A spinning wheel. Should I get one?”

“Why?”

I considered why. The possibility of bigger projects to coincide with my weaving. Something to do while watching movies with the kids. More yarn. The fleece that’s on the way from Tom’s cousin.

“I dunno. Just thinking.”

I relistened to podcast episode 26 not too long ago, because I read Elizabeth’s (very good) new novel, The Solace of Water. What struck me is how focused she was. She knew her craft, and gave…gives…it her attention. I don’t seem to know what my craft is. Is it writing? Weaving? Herbaling (trademark Keri Mae)? Gardening? Mixed media art?  Lately, it seems to be spinning–just not the yarn kind.

So I chatted with the local dealer to see what kind of stock she had on hand, hoping for a long lost dusty wheel buried under blankets of roving. Nada. A sign, perhaps. I then sat in the social fiber nook next to a woman expecting her first baby and learning to spin cotton from seed. She was doing a good job, and I told her so. She discovers I have many children and the questions begin.

“Co-sleeping?” she asks, spin spin spin spin spin.

“Up to you, you’ll find the way; it’s different for every mom,” I say, mesmerized and planting the I-need-a-wheel seed even deeper in my head.

“On-the-back sleeping?”

“I think, yes. But some of my babies slept better on their sides. Or even in their carseats. You’ll find the way.”

spin spin spin spin spin

What’s the one thing, she’s curious, that she and her husband need to know? What can I leave them with? I sense trepidation and uncertainty, beyond her fingers learning to draft. I’m the expert (cough), the one with nine children.

She picks up another cotton seed, and deftly brings the threads together, forming a lovely first yarn. Impressive for a new spinner, I think.

“All you need to know,” I say as I gather my things, “is that it’s going to be ok.”

Her husband nods, thoughtfully. This spinning lesson is his anniversary gift to his bride, cotton being traditional for the second year. I find it sweet.

“It’s going to be ok,” I say again.

That night I scroll through Craigslist, looking for spinning wheels. The one I want shows itself, and I answer the ad. I’m not sure why yet. But between mental gymnastics and making yarn, I figure it’s a better kind of spinning.

Save