Llamarama
Being sponsored by the Maine Llama Association, the Fiber Frolic centers on llamas and alpacas rather than on sheep as at other fiber festivals. Everywhere we went we saw llamas...
walking,
humming (that's my dad joining in),
and being groomed.
Eventually I dragged my dad and Miss B away from the llamas to do some shopping. I fondled a lot of yarn and fiber but didn't buy any. I kept looking at gorgeous purple/blue/green batts and saying to myself, "Very nice! I want to dye some that looks just like that." You know how creativity is, right? You get an idea, complete and perfect and yours alone, in the privacy of your own head. You tilt it to one side and then the other, watching it catch the light and sparkle like a humongoid diamond you couldn't begin to afford. And then... well, and then you have to actually do it. What a tushy-pain. Right now, however, with dyeing I am still in the sparkly stage, confident of my ability to bring these purple visions to life, if it ever stops raining. (It stopped for two days while I was working. Now it's at it again.)
I did buy some dye for me and a drop spindle for Miss B. I think I am getting the hang of it, being able now to produce, oh, almost a foot of yarn before the spindle falls on the floor again.
After the shopping, it was time for the highlight of the day, the llama drill team. Llamas are not really team players, but they can be persuaded to humor their people.
The drill team is always followed by a meet-the-llamas party (cocktails are not served), during which everyone gets a chance to walk,
hug,
and possibly even kiss a llama.
One final purchase (they had purple Fiber Frolic sweatshirts! how could I resist?) and we headed south. We opted to go home early on Sunday to surprise Grant and the Tasmanian Boy, regretfully missing the Leapin' Lamas and Lama Limbo contests, the Costumed Lama Parade, and a workshop on getting your lama to consent to wear a costume. (Lama with a single l denotes any member of the genus Lama, including alpacas as well as llamas.) We still haven't decided: does close association with camelids do strange things to people, or does one have to be somewhat odd to begin with to choose to live with camelids?
walking,
humming (that's my dad joining in),
and being groomed.
Eventually I dragged my dad and Miss B away from the llamas to do some shopping. I fondled a lot of yarn and fiber but didn't buy any. I kept looking at gorgeous purple/blue/green batts and saying to myself, "Very nice! I want to dye some that looks just like that." You know how creativity is, right? You get an idea, complete and perfect and yours alone, in the privacy of your own head. You tilt it to one side and then the other, watching it catch the light and sparkle like a humongoid diamond you couldn't begin to afford. And then... well, and then you have to actually do it. What a tushy-pain. Right now, however, with dyeing I am still in the sparkly stage, confident of my ability to bring these purple visions to life, if it ever stops raining. (It stopped for two days while I was working. Now it's at it again.)
I did buy some dye for me and a drop spindle for Miss B. I think I am getting the hang of it, being able now to produce, oh, almost a foot of yarn before the spindle falls on the floor again.
After the shopping, it was time for the highlight of the day, the llama drill team. Llamas are not really team players, but they can be persuaded to humor their people.
The drill team is always followed by a meet-the-llamas party (cocktails are not served), during which everyone gets a chance to walk,
hug,
and possibly even kiss a llama.
One final purchase (they had purple Fiber Frolic sweatshirts! how could I resist?) and we headed south. We opted to go home early on Sunday to surprise Grant and the Tasmanian Boy, regretfully missing the Leapin' Lamas and Lama Limbo contests, the Costumed Lama Parade, and a workshop on getting your lama to consent to wear a costume. (Lama with a single l denotes any member of the genus Lama, including alpacas as well as llamas.) We still haven't decided: does close association with camelids do strange things to people, or does one have to be somewhat odd to begin with to choose to live with camelids?
posted by Lucia at
3:39 PM
3 Comments:
Great photo essay. Except that now I'm going to have That Song (http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/llama.php) running through my head for days.
Ah, well. There are worse things I could be pondering.
By
Ruth, at 9:06 PM
I love your dad. There's a Swedish movie - "The Apple War" where one of the characters is always kissing frogs because - you never know - one MIGHT be an enchanted princess. At the end of the movie, he kisses the female villian, and she turns into a frog. What would an enchanted lama turn into?
By
roxie, at 9:53 AM
That's a lot of llamas. (Say that three times fast.) Will there be photos of some stash-enhancement, too?
By
Anonymous, at 4:42 PM
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