On a twin tined antler, the carded and drafted fibers are wound around it. My black spindle is already started, and I have gleaned many an insight from spinning.
The rhythm, the poise, I found myself entranced quickly. I have come to to understand why men feared the spinning woman, the folklore around it, etc. My fingers began ‘singing,’ as I ebbed and flowed with the fibers. After my ritual of ‘dressing the distaff,’ the spinning took on an entirely different role from any form of hobby, into one of intense meaning, and a connection to women who have spun before.
And it is here, I place my book for Skyllaros (sp?) as he put his book online for download, and I have my book for download in honor of that: Antlered Weaver of Fate. I would like to know your opinion on the book, hell – any of my books.
I’ve still got quite a bit of spinning left to do, so I close this post with tinges of true excitement, granted however faint – but still there. Mr. County informed me of some skulls I might get which sparked the faint excitement itself. I’d hug the man if I did get them. Maybe dance a little.
It’s nice to be in a decent mood after a long while. My Friday evening has gone well, and my eyes are not so dark for once. Finally.
UPDATE: Finished the spinning, now.. I think I’m addicted.