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.
All is on the wane here; the long grass falls dry and soft yellow, sunlight is dimmed in the morning, the wind is colder. At the same time the bramble berries are bursting with plump ripeness and the Rowan berries shine red in the twilight as crows squawk in delight at them. We fall into …
It is almost always windy here in the Outer Hebrides and we have few trees for protection. And now in the coolness of Autumn the wind is blowing harder so that everything is refreshed and made to tingle like our skin and glow brighter released from under the weight of things no longer needed. We …
Ready for some easy summer knits? Be inspired! Wild zinging colours take over the machair near the sea – purple and yellow, bold and beautiful. Summer serenity make the heart glad. Sun shines on corn marigold flowers near the potato plots and freckles on faces. Twilight bring a hush of chilliness and we wrap ourselves …
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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Autumn: grasses fall, we slumber, cosy
All is on the wane here; the long grass falls dry and soft yellow, sunlight is dimmed in the morning, the wind is colder. At the same time the bramble berries are bursting with plump ripeness and the Rowan berries shine red in the twilight as crows squawk in delight at them. We fall into …
Winds of Autumn clearing the debris
It is almost always windy here in the Outer Hebrides and we have few trees for protection. And now in the coolness of Autumn the wind is blowing harder so that everything is refreshed and made to tingle like our skin and glow brighter released from under the weight of things no longer needed. We …
Summer: serenity in the heart and bold colours near the sea
Ready for some easy summer knits? Be inspired! Wild zinging colours take over the machair near the sea – purple and yellow, bold and beautiful. Summer serenity make the heart glad. Sun shines on corn marigold flowers near the potato plots and freckles on faces. Twilight bring a hush of chilliness and we wrap ourselves …