Important Note: This is another series of blog posts where, when the events described within were transpiring, we did not take notes, and so here I am, thousands of years later, attempting to give context to images that, while able to trigger fragments of memories, act as an incomplete picture of the story. Sure enough, we should have been tending to these things without fail, but little did we understand the value of revisiting milestones later in life. And so, without that proverbial further ado, here we go into a murky past.

Can you, too, sense the symbiotic relationship between that cheek and the soft fibers that are being nuzzled in this photo? I’m here to share a secret: my wife is a fiber fetishist. All fiber and yarn she buys must pass the cheek test before it ever ends up in her stash, and if it’s a particularly rarified softier-than-all-other-softnesses that could be attributed to such a thing, she tries pulling me into this sordid perversion of hers and will ask me to come over and feel this merino-alpaca blend or whatever else the fiber might be so that I might ooh and ah too. The things I need to do for love.

This is a Wiccan circle of yarn witches working on an incantation meant to return humanity to its tree-hugging granola roots…I don’t know about you, but it seems to be working on me.

If you are a novice spinner, you might despise your lumpy yarn, but Adrian, who is demonstrating this “beehive” technique, is intentionally adding these flourishes of yarn balls. I find it funny that once a person learns how to make yarn correctly, they struggle to add variations (code for lumps) and must learn to intentionally influence what ends up on the bobbin. Hmm, maybe I know a little too much about this stuff?

Ooh, I didn’t know that Nikol was bringing in a petting zoo today.

Oh my god, she butchered those goats, turning one of them into hotdogs and the other two into burgers. I don’t think I’ll be taking lunch here today.

You must be kidding; it was just announced that Angora rabbit is on the menu for dessert. I’ve had about enough of yarn school now.

This is a horrible experience; in a Swedish chef voice (remember the Muppets), Nikol shaves the rabbit, explaining how the hair will be used in a burnt sugar style crust à la Crème brûlée that will top the candied rabbit meat. This Wiccan stuff is off the chart. Should I contact the local ASPCA?

Thirteen fiber witches sleep here in this kind of nocturnal coven.

This nonsense has probably gone on long enough, but hey, you try writing about a yarn school happening that took place nearly 14 years ago and see what you come up with. Caroline is demonstrating spinning on a Charka, an Indian spinning contraption. It was one of the gifts I got her for her 40th birthday.

This 7th order Wiccan circle…oh yeah, I was supposed to stop this. By the way, I don’t know if you can see this, but Caroline has been cast out and is sitting by herself off to the right in the blue shirt. It’s sad to be her.

Just like running out of things to write, aside from the bologna above, I must have run out of stuff to photograph, so I wandered into the quiet space of the dye lab and tasted a couple of flavors; they definitely don’t taste like Kool-Aid.

Always a sucker for the psychedelic aspects of the magic conjured here. Behold the sorcery of the spinning wheel and accumulating yarn.

I can only wonder how much of what I wrote here today will remain after my editor (seen above) has her chance to tease apart the folly of writing I’ve shared here.

[No worries! I’m amused, so most of it stays – Caroline]

And now, without further ado, I return to all seriousness as this cake was presented to Nikol in appreciation for her incredible efforts to make a perfect Yarn School experience.

Important Note: This is another series of blog posts where, when the events described within were transpiring, we did not take notes, and so here I am, thousands of years later, attempting to give context to images that, while able to trigger fragments of memories, act as an incomplete picture of the story. Sure enough, we should have been tending to these things without fail, but little did we understand the value of revisiting milestones later in life. And so, without that proverbial further ado, here we go into a murky past.

Ideas of me heading out after breakfast to photograph the surrounding landscape were dashed as I was quickly drawn into grabbing some photos, and before I knew it, I’d been at Yarn School all day. Here we go into the events of the day…

This is the Fiber Prep lab down in the gym with about half the students present; the others are upstairs in the old science lab but more of that in a bit.

Spinning drum carders are like drugs to me as I get lost in the psychedelic blurred colors flowing in and out of these medieval spiked torture devices. Serious harm would come to the person who accidentally sticks their hand into the way of these spikes. Fortunately, the women here have more sense than us guys, who’d just have to try for themselves if it really hurt, while they, on the other hand, only feed fiber into these toothy contraptions that align fibers to make batts from which yarn is spun.

Another way to prep fibers for spinning is using hand cards, as is being done here.

Yet another way to prepare fibers for spinning is combing. While hand cards function like flat paddle brushes, wool combs have enormous teeth. That round disk with a hole in the middle is a diz and is used to pull the fiber off the comb in a manageable long roving.

I jumped upstairs to check in with Group A, working the Dye Lab session.

These are the fruits of dying fiber. It will be Caroline’s turn after our lunch field trip.

Well, this is special. For those of us with cars, we loaded them up and drove to a nearby farm called Alpacas of Wildcat Hollow in Eskridge.

It’s pretty cool what Nikol is organizing here in Harveyville and the surrounding area. By bringing us to the farm where a bunch of harvested alpaca fiber, yarn, and other related things were offered for sale and arranging to have the hosts provide us lunch, Nikol is sharing the money from our attendance with the community, thus boosting her local economy.

This is where the Harveyville Project takes place, here at the old high school.

I can’t explain this “frisky” look of Caroline, and I don’t trust it.

While Group B is now in the Dye Lab I go wandering around and see this drying rack of fiber that is destined to be spun into yarn.

Old crackpots are perfect for dyeing this stuff, or so I’m told.

Back downstairs to photograph the action down there; these are rolags made from hand cards.

To facilitate faster drying of the dyed fiber, they’ve been moved outside.

She must have known earlier and had planned for this moment, hence the frisky look above. NO, Caroline, you will NOT be examining me today.

Hmm, the “art” of hand-dyeing doesn’t look that difficult to me. Just poor some Kool-aid-looking cups of colored water on a bunch of fibers and poof, dyed yarn.

Enough of the Grandpa Wise humor; this stuff is beautiful.

Out on the Great Plains with a clothesline chock full of brightly colored rovings, waving fields of wheat, some dark clouds in the background bringing a tornado, and life is perfect here in Kansas on this fine spring day.

Card the fiber, dye the fiber, spin the fiber, and soon you, too, can be knitting me a pair of socks.

After dinner, everyone gets together in the gym to practice what they’d like to do or just hang out and socialize. Tomorrow, I just know I’ll break away and focus on the beautiful countryside that is all around us.