Fiber Festing

This will be a picture-heavy, word-light post today. Why? Because I have once again been submitting myself to the city's public health system. I spent the day there beginning at 10 a.m., when an ultrasound revealed that the inside of my boobs look like a gumball machine, which may explain why they're so sore so often. I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for my 1:40 appointment to get my Vitamin D prescription filled. Finally, at 4:00, they told me they couldn't do the blood work I needed before I could get a refill because the lab closed at 3:45. I am to come back on Wednesday. We'll see.

The weekend, however was much nicer.

My friend Vivian and I spent all weekend at the Boone Home for their Fiber Festival. And you're right Jenn; it's not at all well publicized. More on that another time.

We arrived Friday evening and were invited to spend the night in the Squire Boone Home, built in the early 1800s.

I've stayed in many of the buildings at the Boone Village before, but never this one. It's sweet.

Vivian stayed upstairs in the loft, but I opted for the rope bed, after outfitting the feather mattress with linen sheets and reproduction coverlets. It's a bit like a hammock, but I slept great, for the first time in days.

We spent all day Saturday dressed out in early 1800s clothes, talking to the tourists, working on some projects, and visiting with Doug, who was able to get the day off and spend it with us. He was working on a hemp cloth cover for his covered wagon.

At one point, I heard a mom in the back room quizzing her son if he knew what this odd item was:

I thought, please, oh please, don't pick that thing up. It was well employed last night.

There were several yarn vendors there, with some lovely things, but I was really looking for natural yarns, or vegetable dyed yarns in weights of DK or thinner. There weren't as many options on that front, but I did manage to buy yarn. I can always manage to buy yarn.

This lovely indigo and natural comes from The Shepherd's Wife and I also bought a pattern for 18th-century mitts. I probably don't need the pattern, but was overcome by Fiber Festosis.

I also bought two lovely hanks of chocolaty brown merino that are just gorgeous. I can't remember the vendor, but I'll try to find out.

After the tourists were gone for the day, Vivian and I took turns winding it all into balls by candlelight.

That night and Sunday, we had the whole village to ourselves. We walked down to the creek to plan for some summer swimming, then climbed the hill to see the old stone fortress the site has moved there.

I don't know much about the fort, but it was quite a sight after I climbed to the top of the hill.

It's box turtle mating season right now, and I was able to help one who had climbed down into some sort of concrete WPA-era project and who couldn't find its way out again. It headed off in search of some turtle lovin'. Sorry about the blurry pic.

There's also an old graveyard there. I don't think it holds Boone descendants, but there were some great old stones. The oldest was this one, dated 1843, and the "newest" was from 1861.

All in all, it was really relaxing and peaceful. I certainly couldn't have been as serene at the clinic today had it not been for the thought of feather beds, box turtles, linen sheets, perforated paper, and yarn, yarn, yarn.