Saturday Sky: All About Joan
She was sitting next to her booth (or maybe a friend's booth? truthfully I didn't think much about that part) spinning Icelandic wool on an old Ashford Trad with a new jumbo flyer on it. She and I talked about wheels and drop spindles and wool and her sheep, and after a while Grant and Miss B ambled by, and Grant said, "Trust you to gravitate to the only spinning wheel here."
"Well, yuh," I said, and asked Joan for a business card, remarking that she lived in Oquossoc, which is right next to Rangeley, and she asked where we were staying, which actually is also in Oquossoc, and invited us to visit her and her sheep.
These are some of Joan's Icelandic sheep.
This is Joan's flower garden, which has nothing to do with sheep but is quite lovely.
This is the fleece Joan gave me.
I have to sing Grant's praises here. You know that conversation you have with your spouse from time to time, where he (it's nearly always a he) points out to you that you have an awful lot of wool, and you tell him what SABLE means if he doesn't already know, and he says, so you'll never need any more wool, right? and you say what does SABLE have to do with acquiring more wool? Grant and I have had this conversation a number of times, most recently at Joan's house. Despite his belief that I am clinically insane, not only did he not prevent Joan from giving me the fleece, but he is proposing to drive for four hours today with it in the van. (We didn't bring the clamshell this year because everything fit without it. Ah, the clarity of hindsight.) At least cool weather is forecast.
Thank you, Joan!
And, honey, I owe you (another) one. As if you didn't know.