Lovely to contemplate

Three charming alpacas from Shadow Pines Farm (Exeter, RI), enjoyed making a public spectacle of themselves outside of Eneri Knits last weekend.

And here is yesterday, in Falmouth, MA:

No matter how inconspicuous an LYS may be, I can usually find it...  Sage Yarns in Falmouth has a reasonable selection o' stuff.

K, my pal in Falmouth, models some mood-enhancing handknit socks (from my needles).  The yarn is one of Marathon's wackier self-fair-isling numbers.

And finally, Neuroknitter and I happily spent the better part of an hour last week in Wickford, RI, at The Mermaid's Purl.  Check out Neuro's blog to see the beauteous scarf she's doing with seacell-infused yarn she bought there.

Bad yarn, great yarn

Gentle knitters, it's been a frantic few weeks, hence the silence. During this blackout period, I've crammed in as much knitting as possible to remind myself that actually some things do come to a good end, even if the process is a struggle. For instance, these socks, lying peacefully next to Molly:

You'd never suspect, to look at them, that this is Yarn from Hell. To explain briefly: it's served up in a pull-skein, theoretically an efficient way to dispense yarn. Pull the string from deep inside and the yarn neatly flows onto needles. Except in this case, what came out from the depths was a huge, seemingly endless tangle, and it was maddeningly difficult to unknot. In fact, I had to cut the yarn several times to continue. The manufacturer is some German company whose name I repressed after I tore the ball-band into a million bits.

Compare this to the delightful unskeining today of North Light Fibers's Island Meadow Blend (60% baby alpaca, 40% kid mohair).

The skein is neatly tied, and the tie opens cleanly. Nothing to cut, no knots to untangle.

This ball-winding process was smooth as could be. Tweak the tie, it drifts gently apart, yarn (sitting cleanly on yarn swift) rolls into a perfect ball:  voila! the Platonic Ideal of Yarn Readiness.

How could any knitter not love this already, even before casting on? I was a goner from the get-go.

The Rain in Maine Fell Plainly on My Brain

Gentle readers, I did it!  I went to Maine for knitting-related business and pleasure. This means that in the two-plus years I've been blogging, I've finally reported about every New England state.  Whew!

Welcoming sign on exterior wall of Camden, Maine restaurant.

Admittedly, the southern three states have been granted the lion's share of coverage by moi. That has to do with proximity and my dislike of driving (I was obviously born in the wrong century). Fortunately, many factors conspired to make this northernmost trip possible, such as that H--my comrade, helpmate, and frequent chauffeur--really loves to visit the state of Maine and was more than happy to fetch us both to Camden and back. And, that I'm writing an article covering the wonderful organic yarn produced by Swans Island, about twelve miles north of Camden.

Swans Island headquarters, an 18th century farmhouse in North Fairport, Maine. Its name comes from an earlier incarnation of the company.

So, more about this estimable fiber-based company when the article appears some months hence. (I'll be tooting my horn when that happens, and you'll know.) For now, more about the knitting aspects of my trip.

First off, let it be said that five+ hours (each way) in the car can be highly productive, knitting-wise. At the start of our drive, I began one sock and finished it; on the way back, started another.

Hidden pictures:  Find the half-completed socks!

And whilst in Camden, I scoped out the one yarn store in town:  The Cashmere Goat. Here's the news: it's a very nice place.  The shop itself is airy and spacious; the two ladies minding the store were friendly yet unobtrusive; the selection of yarns (including Swans Island) is choice.

Though probably not apparent from these photos, most of the time we were in Maine it rained steadily--the sun really only coming out sporadically on our day of departure. It was English weather, actually, where you were dodging showers and couldn't leave shelter without a raincoat and umbrella. Maine had had an extraordinary accumulation of rain during the previous week--some towns recording more than eight inches; and there was a great deal of local flooding.  Herewith some dramatic weather shots:

River water rushing into Camden harbor.

Coastal islands viewed from atop Mt. Battie.  On the left, rain over the ocean.  On the right, clear skies.

On the drive home, we meandered through Damariscotta, Maine, another beautiful seaside hamlet. It was there, surrounded by the loveliest of spring gardens, that I discovered Pine Tree Yarns...which was (sigh) closed.

Note reads:  Open/When the flag is out/Or by appointment./ Call 563-5003./ I might be away in/ Nova Scotia, be/patient. I will return soon with some yarn.

 Oh well...another time. (As if I needed a reason to return....)

Meanwhile, catch my latest article, on the Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont, in the just-released issue of Knitscene Accessories.

Gone, but not forgotten.

It's a grainy Iphone photo, but perhaps that's a good approximation of the mists of time. I was meandering around Harvard Square today and thought I'd stop in at Woolcott & Co., a pretty decent LYS, and the only such one in the immediate area. Well, like so many others of its ilk and of late, it had transmigrated to the Great Yarnstore in the Sky.

Yet the signage remains, even if the store is dark and vacant. Could it be that overhead costs killed Woolcott, inasmuch as the Square, which increasingly resembles a generic upscale mall, commands astronomical rents, and most of the ambient shoppers are either tourists, or highly-focused students, or youthful fashionistas who in all likelihood don't knit much, if at all?

On returning home I did a Web search to see what I could learn about Woolcott's demise after decades in business, and learned that it went belly-up about three years ago. Has it really been that long since I'd strolled around Cambridge?

Yarn as a way of life...

Some loyal readers may recall my post last June about North Light Fibers, the first yarn mill on Block Island and, I believe, the only small business in the state of Rhode Island that produces and maintains an inventory of unique luxury yarns.

After my visit in June, I had hoped to return soon to check on the progress of Sven and Laura Risom's enterprise, but breaking my leg in August effectively put the kibosh on that. However, I was able to realize my hope earlier this week, now that I'm hale, and was happily amazed to note growth in many directions, including not only a refinement of NLF's yarn products, but a measurable commitment to sustainability and the economic well-being of the Block Island community.

What most of us mainlanders don't realize is that seasonal communities, dependent on short-term income, undergo long periods of dearth during off-times. In isolated places like islands, unemployment and attendant social problems may become extreme after the high season ends. A solid business like North Light Fibers not only provides year-round employment security to several locals, it also becomes a destination during the spring and fall margins when the weather is in general pretty nice but tourism has abated. Recently some of my friends in the Hook and Needle Knitting Guild that meets at the Slater Mill in Pawtucket, RI, spent a weekend exploring the knitting scene and beauty of Block Island, and returned with overwhelming praise for the workshop that North Light Fibers had created especially for them. This included a partnership with the charming Hotel Manisses, practically adjacent to the mill, so that not only were the accommodations lovely, they were also convenient.

H and I were lucky to stay in a similarly beautiful spot, The 1661 Inn, run by the same management as the Manisses. Here's a photo of the view from our room, and like the Manisses, the hotel is easy walking distance from North Light Fiber.

An added bonus of the walk from either place to the mill is that one passes by a number of exotic beasts, some of which produce fiber (alpacas, a yak), who hang out on the surrounding grounds.

***

As for the mill itself, there's much to say and I will do so over time, including a forthcoming article. For now I'll leave you with some images of the mill (second floor of the building) and the retail store (ground floor). If these inspire a visit, I promise you'll have a great time. To come to Block Island for a day from the mainland is easy by the ferry from Point Judith, RI, and NLF, restaurants, beaches, shops, bike rentals and beautiful scenery are close by to the harbor. But if you can, staying over is even nicer. Check the North Light Fibers website for info about knitting retreats, too.

Upstairs at the mill.

Downstairs in the shop.

Yarn!

Hand-knitted hats for sale, by resident knitter Renate Fitzgerald.

The North Light by Sachem Pond.

All we, like sheep....

Gentle knitters, let the music commence.

Multipurpose: 4-H exhibit at yesterday's  Connecticut Sheep and Wool Festival,  friend, fleece, fiber, sheepskin, meat.

The annual Connecticut Sheep and Wool Festival was a splendid affair, enhanced by perfect spring weather, just chilly enough to allow knitters to parade about in hand-made outerwear. I saw designs by Kristin Nicholas, Kaffe Fassett, EZ and other luminaries worn by real people (mostly middle-aged, "de-conditioned") in real time, which was most instructive. The takeaway: do not wear a voluminous Fassett coat if you're excessively large in any dimension, else you'll resemble a yurt with feet. The knitting, however, was spectacular. I photographed this elegant shawl, edged by tiny pearl-beads, as its proud creator displayed it to nearby admiring fiberholics:

Although the event was sponsored by the Connecticut Sheep Breeders Association, other animals were much in evidence, either live or in fiber form:

Mowing a rabbit.

Angoras for sale.

The alpacas brought their own fans (partly visible at left)

Cashmere goats were represented by this practical bikini top (left)...

...as were canines.  This Samoyed-merino blend was soft and fuzzy, like angora.  Damn, I wish I'd bought some! But do you suppose it smells like wet dog when it's damp?

On the balance, this was one of the better fiber expos I've attended. The setting was more rural than suburban, the selection of fibers and yarns was wide and varied, affiliated craftspeople (soap-makers, artists, etc.) sold quality rather than kitsch, demonstrations (border collies, sheep and bunny shearing, carding, spinning, knitting, knitting with beads, and so forth) were what you'd expect but done effectively (demos were easy to see, speakers could be heard because there were no overwhelming crowds), and one gained an excellent sense of the liveliness of fiber arts in New England generally (I met vendors from all over the region, though the majority was from Connecticut). Alas, the festival is only a one-day event.

So here's my advice--if you weren't able to make it to Tolland this year, try to go in 2013. Meanwhile I'll leave you with a few more postcards.

Purist spinning.

Holding pen for the shearing demonstrations.

There was always music in the air.

Neuroknitter went roving.

Gorgeous yarn by Dirty Water Dyeworks of Arlington, MA.  I bought some.

Gorgeous natural colors.  Sorry, I forgot the name of the farm!

Sheep, when not badgered by eager and active border collies, may safely graze (at a distance).

"No big deal," she said modestly.

One of my all-time favorite sock yarns is Online Supersocke, fortified with aloe and jojoba so that it's extremely soft to knit and wear. It's self-fair-isling, and looks fabulous and difficult and impressive (wink, wink).

But here's the real magic--the yarn is as great in miniature as in adult socks. Aren't these booties adorable? Fabricated entirely from leftovers, of course.