At the beginning of each month, I make a short list of goals I'd like to accomplish in the next thirty or so days. Nothing concrete. Sometimes scribbled in the margins of my daily planner. But mostly just a mental note. One of these goals has been to devote more time to spinning.
Oh, spinning. I've been daydreaming about spinning for years. Romanticized visions of meditative sessions, spinning soft wool into sturdy, smooth yarn, gaining some sort of spiritual and wooly awakening. I dabbled a bit, here and there, last year, with my drop spindle. But somehow, I never found the time to really dive in. Or so I told myself. You know what they say: if you want to do something badly enough, you make the time.
So, I added "spin" to my daily to-do's, determined to make that time. Then, every night, I scribbled it out and moved it to tomorrow's list. Day to day, month to month, it was a to-do that kept rolling over. Maybe I really wasn't ready for spinning? Maybe I didn't want to forfeit any of my precious knitting time to the messy, uncertain beginner phase of spinning?
Last month, kismet stepped in and a sweet, new wooly antique shop* announced their first class--Drop Spindling. I grabbed a fellow yarn-loving friend and went. It was fun experience and I feel like I left with some new knowledge and a much better understanding of what I was doing (and wasn't doing.) But, most importantly, with a new confidence and interest in drop spindling. Since then, I have indeed been making the time to do a little spinning every day. The drop spindle is spinning and spinning and spinning. It's also 'clunking' on the floor as I get the hang of it. But the spindle is filling up with thick and thin, nubby, awkward, uneven, and perfectly beautiful beginner yarn.
*It's called Hope's Favorite Things and if you're ever in the Bangor, PA area, I highly recommend you stop in.