Cross-patch, draw the latch
Sit by the fire and spin;
Take a cup, and drink it up,
Then call your neighbors in.

I’ve been spinning lovely llama lately.

I’m knitting other llama.

This is currently my soothing stockinette project. It’s to be a skirt of at least knee length. I was concerned that I wouldn’t have quite the yarn to make a length I liked so I dug my last bit of llama fibre out of my stash. The handspun I’ve been using is from two different North American small farm producers.
I love llama but do generally think of it as being alpaca’s coarser, hairier cousin. The llama I’m currently spinning is definitively not. It’s changed my perspective on llama entirely. It’s a Louet Baby Llama from Great Britian.
What are the British doing with their llamas? Is it that I’ve never tried Baby Llama before? I’m even having to spin it differently. It’s a very fine fibre with much shorter staple, 2-3 in. But with a smattering of 4-5 in.; it feels halfway between a down fibre, like yak, and our homegrown angora to spin.

The rhyme is an old nursery rhyme I’m quite fond of currently, in my life with small boys.

The other night, before bed, I asked them where wool came from. Cory thought a moment and said…….”from the mailbox.”.

West coast Canadians are unbearably smug about our gardens year round. Yes, we can grow figs and kiwis and artichokes and olives. Really though, most important element is this…..

January flowers; just as I was dreaming golden yellow, it’s popped up in the garden…..the miracle of two warm days.

And my yarn is done. Someone else seems to like the color too.

I rarely work in themes with intention but am often delighted to notice them appear. January surprises me with color synchronicity. I bounce from project to project and one day notice………color. Spinning wool mohair from batts, a quilt I’m playing with and the warp yarn I’ve set out by the loom. A part of me seems to have decided to celebrate our slow tilt back toward the sun.

Oh look a post.
This is Opal, she’s a Gulf Island sheep.