Two weekends ago, I went to the
Maryland Sheep and Wool festival. Baa! Held at a fairground outside of Baltimore, it was a two-day extravaganza of sheep breeders and their flocks; bundles of wool and other fibers of all sorts; yarn, yarn, and even more yarn; and all sort of fiber crafts. Oh, and lamb. As, in to eat. Yummers! Surprisingly to those who understand my deep passion for all things knitted, wooly, and farm animalish, I had never been to
any sheep and/or wool festival before. Apparently, these things happen all over the country – who knew? Not I.
Oh, the things I bought. I bought two big balls of roving (unspun wool) plant-dyed with indigo and some other plant-like substance, some undyed yarn, a little stuffed sheep for Ivan, etc. etc. I really could have spend hundreds of dollars there – thousands, if I had any place to store sheep... Most importantly, I got a nice, sturdy drop spindle, since I’ve picked up yet another hobby – hand spinning – thanks to my enabler friend K., a.k.a. Harmless Drudge
Check out the amazing drop spindles. Mine isn’t anywhere nearly as decorative, only because I am completely broke:
Look, purty yarn: 
Look, purty wool:
Look, pit lamb! 
Now that I’ve been to such an event, I have of course become addicted, as is my wont. Next up will be the
New York Sheep and Wool festival in Rhineland, NY.
Whilst in Maryland, I discovered how very much I love sheep. No, not in
that way, pervert. They’re just very pleasant animals, and I’d like to have some. They make a nice sound, smell pretty good for hairy farm animals, are reasonably friendly but not in that pushy goat-like way, and plus, they make wool. And they’re tasty.
I don’t think they would enjoy the stairs to my apartment, though.
Regardless, the breed I liked best at the festival was the Border Leicester. So very, very cute. Such lovely wool.
When I returned home from my adventures, I showed Ivan all of the many pictures I had taken, explaining to him that sheep fur is called wool, that people spin wool into yarn, and that yarn is what I use to knit with. All the while he had an expression on his face like, “are you shittin’ me, mom?” No, son, I shit you not.
Look, purty wool: 
Look, pit lamb! 
When I returned home from my adventures, I showed Ivan all of the many pictures I had taken, explaining to him that sheep fur is called wool, that people spin wool into yarn, and that yarn is what I use to knit with. All the while he had an expression on his face like, “are you shittin’ me, mom?” No, son, I shit you not. 
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