Another fine story

There is another "show" story I tell. My sister, too, and if she reads this, I know she will chime in. We're glad to have each other to swear to this, even while we are doubled in laughter, tears running.

In the beginning we had not established our raison d'etre; we did not know if we wanted to be spinners or weavers. Way back in the mid-eighties we began taking our tiny output to local shows, and always brought our spinning wheels.

For Jan, this was a life saving device, because way back then she was too shy to talk to people, let alone look look up at them. She always knew if the customer was a "be-backer" by the shoes. So she bagged and said "thank you very much" while I tended customers, wrote receipts and made change.

We were at a show at Schoenbrunn Village, spinning, talking to people who gathered to watch, making a few sales. Word to the wise: if you're serious about earning a living, don't demonstrate. You choke up your whole sales area in curious folks, who also beg to be allowed to try, and generally don't spend money.

The fleece we were spinning that day was "in the grease". There was no further processing to clean the wool. We had our cards and were carding the locks as we spun them. This can be a messy process, the vegetation the sheep wandered about in was amply embedded in the fleece and was falling into our laps as we carded.

Toward the end of the day we each had a fair amount of debris piled to our sides. Little stems, seeds and probably a bit of dung, too, though we would have skirted the fleece before we brought it to spin.

A young woman sat near us much of the day, watching us spin, asking questions. At the end of the day, as we were closing up shop, she stayed close, still talking. And the last thing she did was gather up our piles of carding debris, carefully wrapping all in some paper towels.

"Why do you want that?" one or the other of us asked.

"I'll take it home, plant it and grow my own sheep!"

When we retired at the end of 2003, we were established niche weavers at shows in the east of this country. There still were good stories to be had; some are coming back to me as I started to type that I don't remember any more. 

I think I'll make a list and amuse you as we sit at our virtual hearths, day after day, waiting for the end of the actual lockdowns.

PS: my sister moved from weaving to quilting, and is herself a successful business owner.

I have a few old photos archived. It actually took both of us to set up this steel framed booth. When I began exhibiting alone at shows, we bought a LiteDome, a lovely professional set up. But here is our first booth, quite home grown.