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.
BEFORE: Four yarns who might never meet one another come to Inner Wild and ask, ‘what will become of us?’. First, a flamboyant hand dyed pure merino frill yarn with orange pops like Chinese lantern plants. Next, a lilac and purple variated feather yarn, a mauve wool mix yarn and some pure burgundy merino DK. …
The wind is howling, the rain is lashing our faces. Suddenly it is dark when last week it was light. Sunless days have arrived with Autumn. And we love it. The fire is lit and tended with care. Wool blankets and downy quilts warm our bodies while good company and laughter warm our hearts. Mellow …
Rejoicing in the colours of Spring, brown grasses turning golden and lining the corncrake’s new nest. Rudely fresh green grass takes over slopes and flat meadows. Robust leaves of Angelica poke from bare earth and make olive feather shapes. Bright pink buds of crab apple trees burst open with pale pink white flowers. Homemade Harris …
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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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BEFORE: Four yarns who might never meet one another come to Inner Wild and ask, ‘what will become of us?’. First, a flamboyant hand dyed pure merino frill yarn with orange pops like Chinese lantern plants. Next, a lilac and purple variated feather yarn, a mauve wool mix yarn and some pure burgundy merino DK. …
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The wind is howling, the rain is lashing our faces. Suddenly it is dark when last week it was light. Sunless days have arrived with Autumn. And we love it. The fire is lit and tended with care. Wool blankets and downy quilts warm our bodies while good company and laughter warm our hearts. Mellow …
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Rejoicing in the colours of Spring, brown grasses turning golden and lining the corncrake’s new nest. Rudely fresh green grass takes over slopes and flat meadows. Robust leaves of Angelica poke from bare earth and make olive feather shapes. Bright pink buds of crab apple trees burst open with pale pink white flowers. Homemade Harris …