Oh, Cormo. I love you so much.
I know, I know. Confessing my love for a sheep could mean serious legal consequences in some states, but really now. It's the wool I'm after.
It started out as roving from Foxfire Farm in Massachusetts. It was absolutely addicting to spin, and it was a bit sad when the last bit of fluff flew from my fingers and twisted itself around the bobbin. Foxfire doesn't have a website, but she does show up at her booth in the main hall at Rhinebeck every year. You can tell when you are spinning it that the sheep it came from was loved and cared for.
It was just so crimpy and lovely. Whoever processed it did a good job of not over-processing. It still smelled vaguely and pleasantly of sheep, the crimp was still visable, and it was snowy-white and clean with no vegetation.
It was like spinning a cloud of cotton candy. Except not sticky. And not dyed a nauseating pink. I will retract that statement now.
I spun it woolen, from the fold. It made for a lofty and soft yarn- I spun lace singles and plied them into a fingering weight 2-ply. 368 yards.