When you grow up in the Hebrides among your tough Harris Tweed-clad menfolk and the smell of wet tweed and feel of rough wool is as familiar to you as your own skin you have permission to mess with it.
The ancient coming together of our island sheep wool in woven and knitted form is an eternal delight for the senses.
In tiny stone homes folk carded the wool and spun it making threads that bound communities of hand knitters and weavers in industry and clothed, as it turned out, the world.
Slamming Harris Tweed fabric up against Harris wool or any other pure wool feels natural.
To be wild with it; to let the ragged edges show, bare, to cut it imperfectly, to cherish tiny pieces of fibres and let them sing a different tune feels like an evolution of our Hebridean spirit.
As an indigenous Hebridean woman taught a traditional craft of our people, playing with our natural fibres makes my heart sing.
If you like you can explore past INNER WILD articles in an arc that spans across time to 2010 on www.innerwild.blogspot.com. Some favourites include: Remember the joy that was curating and viewing Etsy Treasuries? Several Etsy Treasury fragments featuring INNER WILD remain here, maturing beautifully Animal companions love to be involved in photo shoots. Say …
Inspired in the Winter half-light listening to hooded crows cawing at twilight by luscious skeins of handspun yarn from Studio Underwood on Etsy. Tinkling silver shards on ice puddles, crushed meadow grass in gold. Bare branches and quiet clouds. Storms and wildness outside. Ancient spirits whispering.
Quiet contemplation and contentment. Short days and frosty nights. A coolness of light. The quietness of time spent observing, being aware, noticing the beauty in every tiny moment. I am knitting a sock on tiny needles with rustic 4 ply wool rough against my finger tips. Ice crystals slide down the window glass. Letting all …
As familiar as skin: Harris Tweed
When you grow up in the Hebrides among your tough Harris Tweed-clad menfolk and the smell of wet tweed and feel of rough wool is as familiar to you as your own skin you have permission to mess with it.
The ancient coming together of our island sheep wool in woven and knitted form is an eternal delight for the senses.
In tiny stone homes folk carded the wool and spun it making threads that bound communities of hand knitters and weavers in industry and clothed, as it turned out, the world.
Slamming Harris Tweed fabric up against Harris wool or any other pure wool feels natural.
To be wild with it; to let the ragged edges show, bare, to cut it imperfectly, to cherish tiny pieces of fibres and let them sing a different tune feels like an evolution of our Hebridean spirit.
As an indigenous Hebridean woman taught a traditional craft of our people, playing with our natural fibres makes my heart sing.
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Delving into the past
If you like you can explore past INNER WILD articles in an arc that spans across time to 2010 on www.innerwild.blogspot.com. Some favourites include: Remember the joy that was curating and viewing Etsy Treasuries? Several Etsy Treasury fragments featuring INNER WILD remain here, maturing beautifully Animal companions love to be involved in photo shoots. Say …
Winter: enchanted by silver and gold
Inspired in the Winter half-light listening to hooded crows cawing at twilight by luscious skeins of handspun yarn from Studio Underwood on Etsy. Tinkling silver shards on ice puddles, crushed meadow grass in gold. Bare branches and quiet clouds. Storms and wildness outside. Ancient spirits whispering.
Winter: quiet contemplation
Quiet contemplation and contentment. Short days and frosty nights. A coolness of light. The quietness of time spent observing, being aware, noticing the beauty in every tiny moment. I am knitting a sock on tiny needles with rustic 4 ply wool rough against my finger tips. Ice crystals slide down the window glass. Letting all …