RASTAFARI

As I sit out in my backyard, wondering if I’ll get a photo of McSpinagain’s sheep, the weather we’re experiencing reminds me of the changing seasons – specifically of fall. It was fall when we moved back here.
We had scheduled a Taos moving company to pick up our stuff - even though we didn't have an actual place for the delivery of our belongings and had to give our destination simply as the city where we planned to live. The movers were supposed to be out at 9 a.m. They finally arrived after dark (but I'll give them this, it was the same day). And even though they had come in advance and seen how much stuff we had they came in a truck the size of a small U-haul. When questioned about this puzzling choice they explained that their big truck was broken.
They loaded up the little truck, and then decided it was getting so late maybe they'd just come back in the morning and move the remaining six rooms of our belongings at that time. I told them they had to move it that night, that the final walk-through was scheduled for 9 a.m. the next day and we still had a 3,000 sq. ft. house to clean. After agreeing half-heartedly they went out to their truck and drove away.
Since we had made motel reservations for that afternoon and since it was already nearing 9 p.m., I called the motel and told them we wouldn't arrive for several more hours but that we were definitely coming. The woman didn’t sound like she especially cared when she replied, "Okay," before hanging up.
Two and a half hours later, as we sat on the floor listening to our stomachs growl (we’d gotten rid of all our food, that morning), we heard a loud engine, looked out the window and saw a big truck all lit up like a Christmas tree. We watched as it pulled up to the house and were happy to see that the movers had come back after all. They'd decided that since it was so late (and whose fault was that?!) that 120 more trips to town in a tiny truck was somewhat inefficient so they got the big truck started and drove out. The only problem was that if they shut off the engine the truck wouldn't start again. So through the noise and exhaust fumes they got all of our things loaded.
Needless to say we were too tired to do any cleaning, during what was left of the night, so we started out for the motel in town after agreeing to get up really early and do the cleaning in the morning. Since we'd gotten rid of our car my oldest son loaned us the old car he’d purchased the day before, to be used as his work car. It was a tiny, beat up, red car with cracked windows. In black, bold letters across the front windshield it said, RASTAFARI. It’s my understanding that Rastafarians are people of a certain religious belief (a belief that was started in Ethiopia or Jamaica), who listen to Bob Marley, and wear their hair in dreadlocks (which is supposed to look like clumps of marijuana - a plant that the Rastafarians like very much). But don't take my word on this, this could be one of the very few times I am wrong about something.
Although the engine of the Rastafari car did a lot of smoking (no pun intended) it did run and in fact got us to our motel which was closed and locked up tighter than Alcatraz (we found out later that the place had a night bell and had we been crawling through the shrubbery we might have spotted it). By this time it was well past midnight and so we spent our last night in the Land of Enchantment driving up and down the main street in the Rastafari car looking for a motel that was still open. I have no idea what time it was when we finally got to bed I just remember that it was very close to the time to get up and start cleaning the house for the walk-through. Good times, eh?
To see some of my spinning (as well as Liam McSpinagain's) go to www.recklessspinner.etsy.com

GREED

I guess I’m getting greedy; after retrieving the baby skein of Laralaine’s fleece I became obsessed with seeing one of the colored sheep or goats belonging to McSpinagain.
After much thought I decided to write a note myself, asking Liam if he had a camera and if he did would he leave a photo of one of his animals. I’m not very hopeful about my request – after all someone so shy (and from all accounts very, very small in stature) wouldn’t be about to show up in the mall to purchase a camera. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed that perhaps he, at some time, found a camera…dropped by a curious tourist…someone brave enough (and naive enough) to enter the dark, over grown forest… and then startled by wild creatures living three dropped the camera as he/she ran for safety. It’s possible!
But while the waiting game continues I have more spinning to do.

To view soft, curly mohair yarn (as well as other items) go to: www.recklessspinner.etsy.com

LARALAINE

Although I still haven’t clearly seen any of the visitors to my garden, I did spot a flash of color as something (or someone) dashed past my fennel plants. This surprise appearance and the baby skein of tweedy looking yarn left lying nearby, served to reinforce my belief that there is something (maybe an entire civilization) living beyond the embankment.
It wasn’t until much later in the day that I caught sight of a piece of paper fluttering in among the string beans. Trained up garden wire that is stretched between metal stakes, the plants are nearly spent now and the handmade paper was easily seen from my patio swing. After carefully detaching the fragile sheet I took it back to my swing and read the spider scrawl: Happily provided by Laralaine, daughter of Lara. A young snip of a lamb, Laralaine’s colors are not as yet set in their ways, hence the wee sections of both black and white along with the tan and turquoise. I gathered up as much of what I call “lamb tails” as I could but seeing as how she’s yet a wisp of a girl she didn’t shed much a’tall, a’tall. But it is soft and pretty by my standards. Signed, Liam McSpinagain.
Laralaine’s wee bit of yarn can be purchased at: www.recklessspinner.etsy.com

Since Liam McSpinagain’s last communication, I’ve begun to keep a very close watch out my kitchen window – but so far there’s been no sign of him or his rainbow goats and sheep. It wasn’t so long ago that the idea of yellow, green and purple animals (while fantastically exciting), would have seemed ridiculously incredible…but after the skeins of yarn left in my garden as well as the whispered stories of life forms in the trees beyond the embankment, my mind is aflame with curiosity. Although, after hours of useless staring out the window I decided to set up my spinning in the patio, hoping that the singing of the wheel would draw McSpinagain to my yard. It did draw a neighbor with some plump, heirloom tomatoes from her garden. It attracted two young, brown and green iridescent humming birds who stopped in mid-air and watched my brightly colored mohair twist into yarn. And it coaxed a feral tortoise shell cat who wouldn’t let me touch her, but sat a mere foot away as if taking lessons. As for Liam McSpinagain? There wasn’t a sign of him.

Walk Along The Ocean

After hours of useless staring out my kitchen window (in hopes of catching a glimpse of McSpinagain – or one of his cohorts), I decided that today I’d leave the house and take a walk – as they say, a watched pot never boils.
Although it was damp and foggy, Hubby and I made our way across town to walk along the ocean. The tide was out. Dark rocks covered with growth the color of moss, loomed up through the mist. The sight always has a calming effect on the soul. And as we peacefully made our way along the sidewalk an old car stopped next to a trash can in front of us and a wreck of a woman (probably in her forties) got out and began to dig through the trash in search of cans. It was a pathetic sight for sure. Hubby and I both wished we had brought some cash with us.
Further on down the street we saw a man also digging through the trash in search of cans, while his three young children entertained themselves by crawling around on a picnic table. Along the curb sat their old van with the side door open. As we approached we saw that the back of the van was full of clothes and old blankets, and another person was far in the back. Sleeping in the front seat was a young woman and in arms she held a new born baby. This family was obviously living in their car…it was heartbreaking. If only we’d had a hundred dollar bill to silently drop into her lap…but we didn’t.
With our spirits now at rock bottom we started back, but as if our powerful need to regain some peace of mind and a positive attitude was obvious, we were soon entertained by some of the antics of other walkers: an older man jogging while bouncing a huge ball – it might have been do-able if he’d been a basketball player…or at least coordinated – he was neither. But the crowning glory were the three stout women who were very, very slowly making their way toward us by doing lunges (in unison). I figure that even if they only live half a block away it’s going to take them two days to get home.
I’m back at my kitchen window now and after this morning’s experience I’m trying to remind myself that all the world’s a stage and we’re all just actors on it. And as I continue my watch for Liam McSpinagain…or at lest one of his rainbow flock, I focus on sending feelings of peace and hope to those struggling and in poverty – it seems the best I can do at the moment.

A NOTE FOUND IN MY GARDEN

From yours most truly, Liam McSpinagain

This yarn comes to you compliments of Maeve. Maeve is one of my old girls…but I wouldn’t say that to her face. And it’s a darling girl she is, too… but I wouldn’t say that to her face, either. She’s a bit touchy now she’s in her advanced years, but I’m thinkin’ she has earned the right to be as grouchy as she wants, and I say that even when I’m the one getting grouched. Shuffled from one end of God’s green earth to the other since she was only a kid she was most likely middle aged when we met up…and it was admiration at first sight…well it was on my part anyway: the darlin’ bouncin’ curls, eyes a lovely shade of green that reminds me so of the Emerald Isles (the land of me…I mean…my… ancestors). She’s heaven come in a small bundle. The old girl has only one bad habit, does Maeve, it’s her voracious appetite. She could eat a ream of paper in two ticks of a tock! I must forever keep a close watch on the darlin’ or my Sunday newspaper (which, due to my habitat makes it very hard to come by) disappears faster than a flea can dance the rumba. But on the odd Sunday she does manage to partake of the Arts & Leisure section before I can get me a cup o’ the creature and climb into me…my hammock. But I forever forgive her, darlin’ that she is. Because I know she can’t help herself…’tis a mild addiction that has its paws on the old girl. But on the other side of her sweet personality is her helpfulness. She learned from Ebna (the blitherin’ old gossip!) that I was sharin’ the lamb tails with another artisan and Maeve immediately trimmed her locks and left them just outside the barn door for me so I could spin them up for you.
Yes, Maeve is a real dear…well actually she’s a goat, but then you knew that all along, didn’t you now?
MAEVE is available for purchase at: www.recklessspinner.etsy.com

Liam McSpinagain

Out past the garden where the green cabbages grow, beyond the embankment where the tall grasses blow, is a wooded area, a sanctuary to many animals that live just so.
Some say that aside from seeing the masked faces of the raccoons, the possum snoozing upside down, the silky feral cats and a red fox or two, they’ve also seen the muted shades of green (worn by the wee people) flitting from a mountain of black berry brambles to duck behind a maple tree with star shaped leaves.
I never believed such stories, although I thought it would be wonderful if it were true, until one morning when I looked out my kitchen window and saw something hanging from a wooden stake that was propping up a lush green tomato plant. As I swung open the little, white gate to my garden, I could see soft gold tones, pale pinks and lovely blues that matched the cloudless sky. I never would have guessed how this beautiful hand spun came to be in my garden if it hadn’t been for the handwritten note attached to it. In a spidery scrawl that looked like it had been written using a sharpened stick, the note read: From one artisan to another; I have a small flock of rainbow colored sheep and goats that leave wee bits of fleece shaped like little lamb tails, stuck to the brambles. Please accept this small gift of hand spun “lamb tails” and share it with other like-minded folk.” The note was signed: Liam McSpinagain. I’m still in shock and can only hope this little person will be back!