Notes from a long hot summer
The swifts have gone and summer lingers on. Just a short while ago they filled the sky with their unmistakable screech, cutting through the warm evening air in effortless turns. The swallows are still with us skimming the top of Chagford Pool, tree tops and open fields, and with a bit of luck they'll stay a little longer. But it changes when the swifts leave. Nothing marks the true beginning of summer like the first call overhead. This week we had the first rain after weeks of dry, the days are still warm, the woods are just starting to let go of their green, and we are tipping slowly into the next season. Although the stretches of heat have felt long, and the wait for proper rain seemed longer. Summer still seems to pass so quickly. It always seems slightly unsatisfying, as I long to feel the same as summer felt as a child, time felt different, long endless days. Hot pavement on bare feet and the magic of dancing sun and shadows through dappled leaves. I can't quite get it right to capture that feeling again and I wonder if I will be endlessly chasing it. Maybe as an adult you can't feel the pure essence of being in the present like you can in childhood. I think I might have to talk to some buddhists about that, but for now I'm happy with my nostalgic search as summer quietly takes a step towards the door.
The wheel of the year keeps turning.
As ever a huge thank you for your support,
Zoë
Nick Pumphrey Photography
Notes from the Studio
a summer of learning and growing
Creativity, has been on my mind a lot lately, and what it means to be a creative. Especially after the last 18 months of going through a transition period of coming to terms with my concussion causing an auto immune disease, which I can't remember if I wrote about in my newsletter or not (blame the bonk on the bonce) I had a rather hard nosed approach of trying to not let a diagnosis become too much of what I think of as 'me' and but I've also had to come to terms with giving myself permission to go gently and not try and push too many things, as my energy has been up and down and all over the place. Which has felt difficult as my mind is full of so many things I would love to make but my body and foggy mind feels in the way of doing so. Welcome to very slow fashion. So this summer, I've tried to dedicate more time to learning, and reminding myself what lies in the joy of learning.
Annabelle who spins the magic wool for my hats is also a wonderful natural dyer and was generous in her time to teach me the basics, a day with her is a tonic for the soul and I went away inspired. I hope natural dyeing can work along side my knitting practice and bring together my other life as a gardener. I am definitely at the beginning of this journey and after my first attempt being a very disappointing sandy brown, why am I not immediately gifted right away?? am in awe of the bright colours I see others producing. Lots to learn..
wool learning
There is always so much more to discover when it comes to the biology and science behind sheep’s wool. The more I learn, the more I realise how much goes into producing a good-quality fleece, long before it ever reaches the mill.
This really came home to me recently when two batches of my wool were rejected by the mill because the fibre was too weak to spin. It was disappointing, especially as I was so happy with the gorgeous brown shades I had sourced. But it also made me realise that I needed to understand much more about what actually makes a good fleece.
Much like human hair, a sheep’s fleece can tell you a surprising amount about the animal’s health and wellbeing. Diet, illness, stress and changes in the animal’s environment can all leave their mark on the fibre. Even something as seemingly small as a dog worrying the flock can cause stress, which can show up as weak points within the wool staple.
I realised that, while I could look at a fleece and appreciate its softness, colour and character, my knowledge of what good-quality fleece actually looks like was still falling short. I thought the best place for a little sheep 101 was The British Wool Board itself.
The British Wool Marketing Board is a farmer-run, self-financed cooperative established in 1950 that collects, grades, and auctions UK fleece wool aiming to maximize financial returns for British sheep farmers.
A wool staple is a natural cluster, or lock, of wool fibres that grow together on a sheep. Looking closely at a staple can reveal a lot about the quality and strength of the fleece, from its crimp and length to its consistency and any weak points along the fibre.
On one of the last proper rainy deluge days I can remember back in June, I went to meet Aaron, a fleece grader who has worked at the South Molton Fleece Sorting Depot for over 10 years.
British Wool processes roughly 20 million kilograms of fleece each year, collected from more than 30,000 sheep farmers through 14 regional depots across the country. With more than a decade of experience, he can assess a fleece within seconds, judging its quality, strength and fibre fineness almost instinctively. What might look to an untrained eye like simply a pile of wool is, to an experienced grader, full of information. The feel, appearance and characteristics of the fleece all help determine where it sits within the grading system and ultimately what it may be worth.
One of the changes British Wool has been working on is making fleeces more traceable. Each farmer now has their own code within the system, allowing the movement of their wool to be tracked and giving farmers a clearer picture of where their fleece ends up.
It was clear from speaking to Aaron, though, that there is still a bigger issue around the incentive for farmers to look after their wool. Sheep are, of course, kept primarily for meat, milk or breeding, depending on the system, and wool has often been treated almost as a by-product rather than a valuable part of the farm's output. That can make it difficult to justify the extra time and effort involved in keeping the fleece in the best possible condition.
That is particularly interesting at a time when the value of wool is changing. The price of wool has increased by more than 70% over the last year, making it more important than ever to consider the fleece as a product in its own right.
gathering fleece
Earlier in the summer, I sourced the most beautiful dark brown Bluefaced Leicester fleece from mid-Devon. I loved the rich, natural colour and wanted to turn it into a beautiful brown yarn, but I struggled to find enough locally to reach the minimum quantity required for spinning at the Natural Fibre Company in Launceston. So the hunt for more brown fleece continued.
Looking through my wool books, I had a few breeds in mind that could work alongside the BFL. Then, through my membership of the South West Fibre Shed, I spotted a call-out from local farmer Peter, who lives just 15 minutes away, looking to sell his Castle Milk Moorit sheeps' fleece. A brown fleece, from a farmer just down the road — fate?
The Castle Milk Moorit is shorter stapled than the BFL, but I was reassured that the two could be spun together. It seemed like the perfect solution: I could increase the quantity of my original fleece while keeping the wool locally sourced.
I met Peter on another beautiful, hot and sunny morning. He is such a kind and interesting person, and we spent the morning chatting about his love of the Shetland Isles, their rich history of knitting and cottage industry, and how that connection eventually led him back to Dartmoor.
His journey has been anything but conventional. After spending time living and working in Dubai, he found himself back on Dartmoor, where his passion for Shetland sheep really took hold. He told me about the all-night journey he made to Scotland to meet the ferry from Shetland and collect the first members of his herd. And as if raising Shetland sheep wasn't enough, Peter also has more than 70 beehives!
Now I can't wait to see what they create together when they reach the spinning mill in Launceston.
Experimenting outside of wool
I've been experimenting outside of wool and playing with something a little different: deadstock Italian silk.
Deadstock yarns are yarns that have been left over from a previous production run, designer collection or project. Often available in very limited quantities, these beautiful yarns might otherwise go unused or end up in landfill.
I love the idea of giving these special fibres a new lease of life, while also using them as an opportunity to experiment with something outside of our usual woolly world.
At the moment, I am playing around with deadstock Italian silk and experimenting with headscarves for an end-of-summer offering. There’s something so lovely about the drape, texture and feel of silk, and we’re excited to see where these experiments take us.
A little something different is on the way…
More soon.
Summer Loves
Summer reading
In an easy to read conversational prose, Art Work is a memoir in the guise of a ‘how to’ guide, a series of essays on living a creative life. ‘Always trust your ambivalence,’ urges Sally Mann, on the question of knowing whether your art is good enough to release into the world.
Summer Wearing
My Opana Mules by Plasticana. Made in France from 100% recycled PVC and hemp. They have quickly become my summer favourite slip on, errand running, tomato gathering shoe.
Summer Visits
Morgans Gallery, Falmouth
Catch the end of Collection No. 3 of paintings by Martha Holmes, Iona Sanders, George Lloyd-Jones, Clara Holmes, Charlotte Trounce, Hannah Eavis and Jasmin Riva. New to Morgans this show are painters Sophie May and Dror Cohen and ceramicist Henry Bird. Until 29th August.
Painter Sophie May in her Morgans Studio wearing her River Guernsey.
Happy woolgathering!
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