A couple of mornings back I was given a gift sample packet of raw wool. This morning as I stood holding it in my hands in our home in West Texas I was transported back to Northern Maine to Crafts Elan, a shop where I worked for several years ordering, stocking, counting, rearranging, and pricing many varieties of yarns, among which there was some called raw wool that had a similar look to what I was now holding in my hand.
As I stood there, fingers smoothing the sample amount over the palm of my hand, reminiscing with wonder about how yarn is made from what was so recently on the backs of these marvelous sheep, admiring the beauty in the natural color combinations, I spoke to my husband, “I wonder if I could make a sweater out of this.” My reverie was promptly broken when he said, “You don’t have enough!”Laughter emerged inside and out as I had to agree and the musing for the moment was broken, but it was enough for the brief period of time to have revisited places held dear in memory and then to return to the present, all thanks to the sharing of the shearing of the sheep.
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 6-1-2010
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