This small collection of handspun yarn began much earlier than the dye pot.
The fibre came from farms around Loch Ness, where I collected, sorted and skirted the fleeces myself. It was then washed and carded by a Border mill before returning to my studio, ready for the next part of its journey.
I naturally dyed the prepared fibre in my kitchen, working with a palette that gradually grew into garnet, copper rose, peach, old gold, lichen green, sea-glass and smoky lilac. Rather than keeping each colour separate, I blended them by hand, allowing the shades to drift into one another before spinning.
The resulting skeins are not a conventional rainbow. They feel more like a sequence of weathered minerals: colour softened by natural fibre, with small flashes of silkiness, shadow and light appearing as the yarn turns.
This is the part of fibre work I find endlessly compelling. A fleece carries its landscape before it reaches me. Then the process adds further layers: sorting, washing, carding, dyeing, blending, spinning. By the time it becomes yarn, it holds a record of many decisions, materials and places.
These skeins will become weaving studies, photographs and samples as I prepare for autumn events. Some may also lead to small, limited fibre sets for spinners who would like to make their own version of this Highland palette.
For now, they are a reminder that a rainbow can be quiet, local and full of weather.
0 comments