The wool in my hands

It’s funny to think that seven years ago, wool wasn't part of my normal vocabulary. Okay, maybe when I worked in the fashion industry, but not with the meaning it has now. Wool carries a weight that it didn't back then. It is vital to my physical and mental well being. Wool feeds me, gives me exercise, and brings joy to my life. It filled a void I never realized I had. I’ve always enjoyed looking at sheep, alpacas, and rabbits, but never did I think those animals would become so important to me. I never thought I would be working with their beautiful coats ever day.  The first time I received a shipment of wool, I opened the box with much anticipation. Till then, I considered it scratchy and just plain uncomfortable. Everyone I knew who owned an Irish wool sweater loved it and bragged about it. They aren’t cheap. I also considered it hard to care for (dryer be damned). I was pleasantly surprised when I touched cleaned, carded and naturally dyed wool. It was very soft and the colors were amazing. Not at all like an Irish wool sweater which by the way I have come to appreciate.  Over the years I’ve learned the feel of different wool, carding processes and which wool or fur is needed for which sculpture. Someday I hope to shear a sheep, clean its wool, dye it, card it myself and sculpt something amazing. For now, I will leave the process to the masters and focus on my sculptures. And for that, I thank them for the wool in my hands. ​