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. …
Hello Autumn you beautiful harvest season of misty mornings, long nights and mellow fruitfulness. We surrender to crisp leaves crackling underfoot, the zing of cold air sharp in our lungs and the soothing, cosseting bliss of wrapping ourselves in layers upon layers of natural, hand knitted wool, silk, cashmere, alpaca . . .
A hydrangea cutting from last year decided to make Spring even more exciting by creating its first ever flower when nothing else bloomed in the garden. Brought indoors its single blossom came to be appreciated and admired all day long for weeks and weeks. Thanks to its beautiful influence this Spring I was drawn to …
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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. …
Autumn feelings
Hello Autumn you beautiful harvest season of misty mornings, long nights and mellow fruitfulness. We surrender to crisp leaves crackling underfoot, the zing of cold air sharp in our lungs and the soothing, cosseting bliss of wrapping ourselves in layers upon layers of natural, hand knitted wool, silk, cashmere, alpaca . . .
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A hydrangea cutting from last year decided to make Spring even more exciting by creating its first ever flower when nothing else bloomed in the garden. Brought indoors its single blossom came to be appreciated and admired all day long for weeks and weeks. Thanks to its beautiful influence this Spring I was drawn to …