The time I spent with this yarn has formed an unhealthy attachment within me. It is some of my earliest non-novelty (ridiculously slubby) handspun. Mostly lincoln wool, with bits of black rambouliet-cross spun in. Other than black, all the colors were from natural dyes I collected in the wilds of Missouri. Well, the wilds of the back pasture. I found lichen growing abundantly on limestone outcroppings, sassafras saplings invading the field, walnuts in green husks, goldenrod flowers, and so many other plants that I would make tiny batches of.
I plan to rip out the sock, and start over. Maybe it wants to be fingerless mittens.
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