the Village Knittiot

Rhinebeck was, in a word, wonderful. Last year it was such a blur and I didn’t really feel like I truly absorbed even a quarter of what I saw. This year was another story and I was struck with how much I have grown in craft and confidence these past 12 months. Since so much of my spinning has been done in isolation, one of my main goals at Rhinebeck was to see as many people as possible spinning. You know, to make sure I was doing it “right.” I certainly saw my fair share of spinners. But as it turns out, I only needed to meet one.

I think it was in the third or fourth barn we were wandering through — the sheep barn as a matter of fact. The showcase barns that have information about the animals are my favorites. They are typically less crowded. I suppose this is because they are pretty much purely informational and aren’t selling anything that doesn’t require a considerable investment and a farm with which to sustain your purchase. This was where I encountered Cranberry Moon Farm. It was truly magnetic. This woman sitting there in one of the stalls spinning on her Louet and I wish I had a picture of her, but I’m kind of glad that I don’t, because I don’t think it would do her justice. She’s one of those people who is so absolutely in possession of herself that she is just there. She was strong and no nonsense and gave me the only advice that I am sure I will ever need about spinning. Just spin.

Now, I have heard this before, but it never quite sunk in until then. Yesterday I was talking to my friend Kari about it and we started discussing how we sometimes get stuck believing there is this order of events and a right way to do something. It is, of course, entirely self-imposed, but for me it can become a real obstacle to just living (or just spinning, or just writing, or just being). In essence, this is what the spinning lady of Cranberry Moon Farm taught me. I asked her “How long does it take you to spin xx amount of yarn?” She answered, “Who cares?” I told her “I really feel like I need someone to teach me what to do.” And she said, “You learn as you go. You learn by doing.” She talked to me about sheep and different fibers, she told me about her Leicesters and told me to experiment with the various types of breeds and animals. She basically told me to trust myself. Or rather, she expected me to go back to my spinning wheel and trust what I was doing, trust my own process. That was the best thing I could have gotten from Rhinebeck.

Shortly after that we ran into Joe and Marilyn which would have been wonderful and of itself, but was even more exciting, because I knew that meant Franklin would not be far behind. Before getting to the goods on Franklin, let me just say that Joe is one of those people whose face contains so much genuine warmth and happiness that you truly enter the land of cliche when trying to describe him. He lights up a room. Has a sparkle in his eye. He is the kind of person who when he looks at someone, really sees them. This is such a rare and surprising thing in life that when you run across it, you feel struck with a little wonderment. Later we got to see him give a little mini spinning lesson and that too was just a revelation. But more on that later…

Anyway, Marilyn and Joe told us to go look for a miniature Ben Kingsley (ala Ghandi) in a baseball cap and then we would have Franklin. And so we set off. Now, let me just say, if you have read Franklin’s blog, you know how absolutely witty, charming, intelligent and talented he is. Multiply that by about 107 and you get a pale reflection of what he is like in real life. I truly can’t say enough nice things about him. It was certainly one of the high points of my day.

And even though Lee Ann couldn’t be there in person, I managed to bring her with me in a very small way. You see, last week in a comment to Franklin she suggested that perhaps with all his talk about sheep he ought to at least have a drop spindle, and at that moment something in my brain clicked. I promptly dug out the drop spindle I bought last year at Rhinebeck, wound up some super soft merino rovings and set them aside to bring with me. So, Lee Ann, your plan to make wool not war progresses one person at a time. Franklin owns a drop spindle, and even better than that — Joe gave him an impromptu lesson right at the picnic table and I have to tell you, if you haven’t seen Joe talk about spinning, you just haven’t seen anything. He was like a little spinning Buddha dispensing wisdom from on high. It was awesome.

Other highlights include:
Long and vocal conversations with noisy sheep.
A fast and brief encounter with Too Much Wool and Enchanting Juno — two bloggers whose thoughts are first rate and who manage to convey them with so much grace and aplomb.
Finishing Rogue in the car on the way to the festival (and then not being able to wear it because it was so bloody hot! Who has a sheep and wool festival in 70 degree weather? The nerve.)
Chatting with Carol (hi Carol!), who (if I’m not mistaken) is responsible for the following excellent knitting patterns, which you might recognize from Knitty, and her willingness to share all things Philadelphia with me.
My conversation with Marilyn which was just delightful.

Most importantly for me, though, was the opportunity to spend some much needed time with my sweetie, whose schedule has been running pretty much opposite of mine for a month and a half now and who I have been missing terribly. We are big fans of the road trip and the three and a half hour drive out there was just a treat. I finished weaving in the last few ends of my sweater listening to Cypress Hill tooling down the Interstate with my charming husband by my side. Lucky, lucky me.

Later, after we’d had our fill of fiber, we decided to drive into Rhinebeck and look for a little vegetarian food. The local health food store sent us back out on the road to the nearby town of Red Hook, which was just a little slice of heaven. The restaurante, Cafe Luna 61, wasn’t slated to open for another hour and a half, so we just perused the local antique stores and ended up resting our feet at The White Rabbit Coffeehouse and Cafe where it was finally cool enough for me to slip my sweater on. I pulled out some knitting and just sat there for awhile with a large, steaming mug of peppermint tea. It was pure bliss. Shortly before we left to go eat, a girl and her mother came up to me to tell me that they liked my sweater and that they too had made one. It was a lovely moment. So nice to encounter so many enthusiastic and excited knitters, spinners and artists everywhere I went.

Our dinner at Cafe Luna 61 was super. I had the best Seitan I have ever had in my life and I’m considering making the three and a half hour drive out there every Saturday just to have dinner. Yeah, they totally put crack in their food. Either that, or I am long, long, long overdue to live in a city where I can eat out every once in awhile. It’s probably that last one, huh?

Anyway, I leave you with some pictures:

Pulchritude Sanguine, (or Pulc, as we call him) our constant travelling companion who comes with us on all our road trips, here nestled happily in my newly finished Rogue.

Conversations with the Ben Kingsley of knitting

Obligatory Goat Photo

Very vocal sheep

Blogger convergence

Time with my sweetie…

This entry was posted on Monday, October 17th, 2005 at 6:20 am and is filed under this Knittiot Life, this Random Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.