For one seven-hour day of the year, this is my house.
This is the view from my doorway.
This is my garden.
I have neighbors who make apple cider, wine, preserves, and basketry. A little fantasy all made possible by being a demonstrator for Erntefest, the fall festival at Old Economy Village.
I brought three wheels this time, and set them up in the foyer where I had the best light.
Doris still needs work, but I brought her for historical purposes. Blondie served as a touchable display, so I could satisfy children’s insatiable urge to make the big wheel spin, but in fairly controlled circumstances. I swear, kids and wheels have a mutual attraction beyond magnetism.
I made a little display of fibers for more touching fun, and that went over fairly well. Comprised all from my fiber hoarde.
A little unexpectedly, my work wheel for the day was the CPW, who earned herself a name: Harmony.
It seems that just living indoors for a little bit was all she really needed to work beautifully. Well, that and a new footman, jiggered last Saturday morning out of a wire hangar. The tilt tension now works just fine; the mere threat of liquid wrench was enough.
Speaking of fine, skinny yarn is all she spins, and it’s all I want from her. Merino-silk was a bit too slippy for our first ride together, so I spun an ounce of natural moorit shetland from a sampler pack of natural colors that Jared got me a while ago. I used a boppy to rest my left elbow, took lots of breaks, and did the exercises my PT gave me, and survived the day with a minimum of residual ouchies in my fussy left shoulder.
One thing about Erntefest is I am always assured of good company. I spent the morning with a tour guide (also named Doris), who is a lovely conversationalist and very knowledgable about the Baker House (where we were). This was awfully convenient, as she gave me the low-down before she left at lunchtime. I spent as much of the afternoon giving tours of the house as demonstrating spinning, and I could actually answer patrons’ questions with a minimum of fiction and awkward pauses.
And, as I’d hoped, Tammy joined me for the afternoon. As it would never have occurred to me to hope, she showed up and handed me a large yellow gift bag full of tiny packages wrapped in yellow tissue paper. What were these tiny treasures, you ask?
Don’t even try to hold in the squee. You’ll only hurt yourself. Tiny baby socks!!!! Just what I wanted!!!! Eeheeheehee!!! [ahem.] I think we’re set for 0-3 months now; infants don’t get their feet that dirty, right? But that’s not all:
For next winter, a fully-loaded 9-12 month baby outfit. Blocked to within a millimeter of perfection. Don’t you just love little shawl collars? I can see pairing this with a red skirt or dress next winter, and if baby girl is followed at some point by a brother, with some dashing little blue jeans. So pleased. Thank you so much, Tammy!
The day was nearly silent until noon, when some visitors finally made it back to Baker House. It didn’t really pick up until around 3, when I was answering questions for whole groups of people stuffed into the foyer, watching me spin, and refereeing kids who all wanted a turn at the treadle.
Thanks again for a lovely time, OEV. Again, if you ever want a live-in demonstrator, sign me right up.