
The geneology bug has bitten me big-time. About a month ago, a couple days before my grandmother’s birthday, I woke up with a burning desire to visit the home where she gave birth to my mother, a now spooky ante-bellum, hand built, three-storey Georgian in the wilds of rural Mississippi. I’ve only been there a couple times, nobody home, only to stand in front of the house and wonder which room held the spinning wheel and the loom, how they lived back then. It must have been where my mother learned to knit and crochet. Family stories are sandwiched in my head so that I see my turn of the 20th century relatives running around in hoop skirts and frock coats. After a month of study I’m able to pry some of these layers apart, but it’s like dismantling a baklava.
All the women in my direct motherline were adept at textiles. Mom taught me to knit and crochet when I was very young. Grandma Jo was an incredible crocheter, who made stacks and stacks of filet crochet potholders which I use to this day. I mean, how tight do you have to crochet something that tiny so that it’s dense enough to use? Tight. Mighty tight. Check out the crochet collar in Jo's portrait photo, probably taken around 1910. I know she must have crocheted it herself. Hook size? 00000000000. Pronounced “oooooooh!” Her mother Penelopy was a spinner and weaver, most likely of cotton and flax. And she must have learned it from her mother, because in rural Mississippi there were few other options.
Spinning, knitting and crochet are a rich inheritance indeed. I have no doubt that they are genetically hardwired; blood memories. These skills that have brought me through both tough and happy times, have been as important as friends. I find it totally fascinating that all the fibery women in the family were on my mother’s side, and most of them straight down my motherline. Somehow this makes what I do even more precious, even more an integral part of who I am. My love of these crafts is indelible, inseparable, undeniable. Where are my needles? Gotta go knit.











l on Kentucky Avenue on the campus of the University of the South at Sewanee, TN. I believe hours are 9-5 CST. The sampling of yarn here is my own handspun to be offered as a Justify Kit. Below is a view of a recent hybrid I knit of 




Rita always gives me a mini lesson when I visit and this year it was a cotton spinning lesson.She had me spinning cotton on a Schacht Matchless in 5 minutes! And it held together...I was speechless. Rita spins everything on either her Schacht or her electric spinner. The bowl above contains some of her handspuns awaiting the loom in silk, cotton, linen and hemp. We used her handwoven dishtowels in the kitchen (can you imagine?), woven in subtle patterns from handspun cotton and linen. Her terry handtowel above is so cushy, so utterly touchable, all handspun and handwoven from the natural colored fibers, green cotton and linen. See how the terry stripes are one fiber and the flat stripes another...and it's reversable! What an elegant asthetic! What remarkable craftsmanship. Stunning! To top it off we took the kayak and canoe out on a local lake and picked blueberries from the boats. These became sublime muffins the next morning...the ones we didn't eat, that is. Rita loved my kayak...looked like a little girl with a new toy as she paddled. Thanks, Rita, for such a great time!
Barb when she took my class at SOAR in 2003. She spoke so lovingly of her animals then that I've always wanted to see her again and meet the flock. Finally this year I got to do just that. And her remarkable love for her flock pays off in the sweetest, most affectionate sheep I've ever had the pleasure to meet. The little black ram lamb snuggling against me is Cinder, who followed me when we started to leave and snuggled me for more pets all the way to the fence. Barb takes such great care of her animals that it shows in her fiber and yarn. I bought some of her cormo, alpaca and silk millspun that she had dyed because I just could not resist it's cush and cuddly softness. Those skeins glowed in the front seat of my car as I traveled south to Webs and all I wanted to do was whip out my needles and start knitting. I bought some square needles at Webs and started in on some Spiralling Leaves Fingerless gloves, altering it for the worsted weight yarn. You'll see them soon.