So I’ve been composing in my head for two days, trying to come up with a way to explain the beauty of the Massachusetts Sheep & Wool Festival. I had a fabulous time with friends and fiber but the words just weren’t coming.
Well. When I came in the house last night, after a very pleasant cook out on our deck with only my father-in-law for company, I read my dear friend Cate’s post about this past weekend. You must go read it, too. Now, please.
Yeah. I’m done with the words for this because there’s no way I could say it better than Cate did. My little knitting hobby has become such a huge part of my life and the friends I have made because of it, well, it just amazes me. For these are not just blogging acquaintances but real life friends. Even now, I feel like words are failing me. Just read Cate’s post again if you want to know how I feel.
I do, however, have pictures.
The fairgrounds. Really, the whole festival wasn’t much bigger than this. And yet the size was perfect. I know, I sound like Goldilocks, but this was just right.
Sheep in crazy, psychedelic coats. I’d be embarassed to wear either of these coats, were I a sheep.
Morris Dancers. Or, dance softly and carry a big stick.
A fleece. Half of this belongs to me and the other half belongs to Laurie. Because, when Laurie offers to split a Blue Ribbon winning Coopworth fleece with you, you just don’t refuse.
Oh. Another fleece. This one is all mine and, while it only won a red ribbon, I fell in love with the crimp and just had to have it.
Assorted fiber purchases. I’ve decided that I buy fiber according to the weather. New Hampshire was grey and cold and rainy and everything I bought was either beige, grey or brown. Massachusetts was bright and hot and sunny and everything I bought was bright colored and fun. So, really, between the two festivals, I’ve got it covered.
I would be remiss in this whole fiber story if I didn’t recognize and thank my husband. Dale is a trooper. He not only visits and socializes with my friends but he also lugs around 12.5 pounds of fleece, assorted fiber and bottles of water. He’s willing to sit and talk with virtual strangers until 10 pm at night, even while facing a 2.5 hour ride home, just so I can spin on Marcy’s new gossip wheel. And he only mildly makes fun of me when I try to spindle spin the day after the event. Despite being taught by a master and enoucouraged by the various members of the Spindicate, I still have issues with the spindle. I guess this means I need another get together for more lessons with my friends.
So, really, that about sums it up. Just one more thing, in case I haven’t said it yet. I had a fantastic time.