la fête des bergers

There's a noticable chill in the air as I set up my little spinning corner this morning. A clear sign that Autumn is not far away. But as the waves of tourists start to arrive, the temperature slowly rises. 

By the time the little herd of sheep is rounded up and brought down the ski slope hillside, the sun is shining summer bright.

Throngs of tourists have come up to the mountain for an "authentic" day out, to catch a glimpse of a pastoral heritage which some would say is fading further away with each passing year.

They gather around the sheep fold, patting and prodding the livestock waiting to be shorn. They sun themselves on the hillside, watching the sheep dog demonstrations. They crowd around me and my spindle and wheel.
  

in the orchard

There's something wonderfully therapeutic about picking fruit. Even on an especially slow day, when I'm not up to much more than sitting in the long grass and gently knitting a few rows whilst my love does all the hard work. 

 (I've finally succumbed...Melody's enthusiasm for Fairisle is contagious...)

be kind

Be kind to your sleeping heart.
Take it out in the vast field of light
And let it breathe.'               
Hafiz

During group therapy at the thèrmes today, we were encouraged to think about being more "kind to ourselves". The psychologist asked us to share with the group the things that make us happy, that help us to be kind to ourselves.

Knitting and spinning were of course at the top of my own list. Whilst I learn to find my own rhythm once again, it looks as if there might be a lot more woolcraft going on around here for the next few months. 

la fête du mouton

A few weeks back, I joined a little association of local producers and hand crafters. Earlier in the week, we were each invited to set up a little stand at our village's annual "Fête du Mouton". 

Although I was a little nervous at first (it's not easy to spin good yarn when your hands are shaking!) I soon got into the swing on things. 

My little stand pulled a large crowd throughout the evening. I took onlookers through the processes of fibre production from sorting to carding to spinning on both spindle and wheel. It was a wonderful experience to be able to share my craft with locals and visitors of all ages and nationalities. At one point we even had a ball of my yarn and a pair of needles going round the assembled crowd with onlookers doing a row or two here and there.

And to think I've only been a spinster since mid-March. 

(Photo credit: Marie-Bernard Hourtané)

buttercup (hand-spun)

This was my first time experimenting with turmeric. I was hoping to produce a mustard-yellow yarn (I've got a burning desire to knit some mustard colour mittens for the autumn...). It ended up more like a buttercup, but I'm very happy nonetheless - especially with the heather effect I achieved by "tie-dying" the skein. 

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"Buttercup"

Ingredients: 70g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was white Barégeoise from Gèdre.

Spinning: Two singles spun from rolags in the Z direction, using the woollen technique.  

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Dyeing:  natural turmeric, dyed in the skein (tied up with elastic bands)

Quantity: 70g giving 220m of finished yarn

 

plateau de belle vue

Là-haut. Au-dessus de 1500m. L'air est pur. Le soleil tape fort. 

Des champs d'iris. Des vaches broutent. Des abeilles bourdonnent. 

Et moi, je marche. Lentement, certes. Mais je marche quand même.

C'est comme un renouveau. Comme si tout venait de recommencer: 

La vie. La santé. L'amour. L'été. 

Doucement. Lentement.

Sans s'abandonner. 

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Up above 1500m.  The air is pure. The sun is strong.

Fields of irises. Grazing cows. Bumble bees a buzzing.

As for me, I'm walking. Slowly, yes. But walking all the same. 

It feels like life has only just begun. As if everything is starting afresh:

Life. Health. Love. The summer. 

Gently. Slowly. 

Not giving up.

(Notre première balade en montagne depuis l'automne dernier /
Our first mountain walk since last Autumn.) 

taking the waters

Summer pasture lands just above Barèges, July 2010

And finally,
the big day comes.

I get up later than expected from my after lunchtime siesta and trundle over to the Tourist office in our village. The bus for the thermal baths is slowly filling with patients when I arrive ten minutes later. 

The driver takes us up the Barèges valley, along the road to the col du Tourmalet. We overtake panting cyclists wishing to measure themselves against the greats. 

Ten minutes later, we arrive in the spa of Barège, a long, thin village clinging to the hill slope along the river Bastan. The thermal baths have been here for over three hundred years. 

French people have been coming here every year to take the waters. To be taken care of. To find healing and peace in the shadow of the mountain, beside the bubbling brooks and thermal springs.

And finally.
Today it is my turn.  

black and white yarn (hand-spun)

I had kept behind some white singles from my last project because I wanted to experiment with a two-tone double ply yarn.   

I fell in love with the black fleece the moment I clapped eyes on it. Never mind if the locks seemed a little dry, or were heavily matted with straw and...well, we'll keep that a secret between spinsters.

I had already spun with it back in April, during one of my earlier attempts at the wheel. At the time it had been a real pain to spin, but I put it down to my lack of experience. Coming back to it again this time round, I realise that the difficulty lay in the fleece itself: they were brittle (probably through age) and far too short to spin easily (probably because the fleece had been twice cut).

I struggled to find much pleasure in spinning the black singles, although my mood lifted considerably once I had plied the singles together. And at least I'll have learnt that sometimes even a free fleece is a little two much effort...

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"Black and white yarn"

Ingredients: around 30g of washed and carded wool. The fibre used was white and black Barégeoise from Gèdre.

Spinning: Two singles spun from all rolags in the Z direction, using the woollen technique.  

Plying: two singles plied in the S direction until balanced. 

Finishing: Wound off into a skein, washed and dried weighted to set the ply.

Quantity: 30g giving 59m of finished yarn

Aveyron / St Affique

I am stirred from a deliciously deep sleep by the sound of the wind whispering through the trees. The golden rays of dawn are streaming through the circular opening above my head. As I drag myself fully into the day, I can feel the canvas walls around me are breathing. Only an arm width away, N is pottering beside the stove. Seeing to the early morning pot of coffee.    

N and I have a tiny germ of a dream. 

Nothing fancy or big. 

Just a secret desire to spend a lot more of our time grubby. To work more closely with the natural world. To reduce the stuff in our life so as to live more simply yet more fully, more deeply. In a more manageable manner. 

Often, that is the only thing that we want. Mountains. Tiny house/yurt/cabin in the woods. High grass. Veggie patch. Wild flowers. Stars. Sky. Fresh air. (A few sheep).  All that hippy-dippy off-grid, composting toilet, Tom and Barbara stuff.

On our way back from the wedding, we couch-surfed in an alternative hamlet in the hills above St Affrique. We ate courgettes picked fresh from the veggie patch and spent the night in a yurt, perched on the side of a steep hill.

For now, it's just a little dream. A seed we planted in our imaginations a few years ago but that we tend to regularly with drops of hope and love. Sometimes it feels as if our seed is too small, that the conditions are too harsh for it to thrive, let alone take root. 

But that last night in the Aveyron was one of those nights when we wonder. Perhaps our tiny seed will one day sprout some tiny roots? Perhaps...it might just be possible after all.

a hand-sewn wedding

Une mariée si belle dans sa robe de dentelle Chantilly cousue-main (les fleurs du joli bouquet aussi), un mari tout heureux, une témoin-interprète qui avait un peu le trac pendant la cérémonie...

Puis...avec un "oui" bref, ils deviennent époux et s'appartiennent désormais.  

Vive l'amour bilingue! 

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The bride was just stunning in her hand-sewn gown, with exquisite Chantilly lace and hand crafted bouquet. 

The groom was glowing with joy, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat.

The witness-interpreter was more than a little nervous during the ceremony.

And then...with a simple "I do", they became man and wife, belonging to one another from this day forth. 

Hip hip hooray for love in two languages!