Yarn, Roving and Big, Black Horses Under the Big Sky

There is no such thing as coincidence in my humble opinion, I’m sure the knitting goddess has everything planned, quite often together with the horse goddess. Together, they are a force to be reckoned with and they quite often rule my life. I’m often at their joint mercy and they don’t take no for an answer.

I dragged my sister and mom up to Hamilton, MT for the Big Sky Fiber Fair June 8-10, 2007 at the Ravalli County Fairgrounds. If you can ever make it, do it. The beautiful drive through the Montana Rockies alone is worth it. The fiber fair is just the really, really good, thick icing on the cake.

I wasn’t in the door one minute before the yarn fumes had overtaken me and I was fondling a skein of sock yarn that was talking sweet words to me. Sock yarns always know what to say to me. “We will make beautiful socks together,” they whisper sweetly into my ear. It nearly makes me weak in the knees.

Somehow, I put the skein down, but….um…only after my sister said something about seeing all the booths first. So I…um…carefully hid the skein of sock yarn under a pile of boucle. I didn’t want it to go home with anyone else. You know how much a needle slut sock yarn can be. They’ll go home with anyone they can and they will tell anyone anything. Hell, give a skein of sock yarn half a chance; they leap into someone else’s arms even after you buy them.

Contrary to what my family thought I did refrain from buying every single skein of yarn. It was hard, very hard but I should willpower that would have impressed a marine;

I found the basket of Mountain Colors millends at Willow & Wool for $2.50 an ounce. The entire basket of yarn begged to go home with me. I could have been lured by it all. Its siren song was lovely, but a bit sad, “We are rejects; we need a good home!” they cried. I did grab two skeins of sock yarn in lovely muted blues and browns along with a skein of wool ribbon in their Winter Night colorwary. I jumped on a skein of their Bearfoot yarn in the Winter Sky colorway.

Next was the booth of discontinued yarns straight from the mill. Rayon chenille yarn in every color for the low, low price of $15.00 per pound. I resisted, I love chenille; its lovely sheen, its velvety softness. However, I detest working with it and then caring for it afterwards. Many a chenille sweater has died in my washer and dryer. Somehow I walked away empty handed.

However, if I showed my willpower at the last booth, six booths later was my undoing: sock yarns I had only seen on the internet and never, ever gotten to touch in person: Schaefer Anne, Great Adirondack Silky Sock yarn, Regia bamboo, Opal handpainted…too many to name. I caved so quickly I didn’t notice as I snapped one after another up. They had to be mine, mine, mine!

Remember that little skeins of sock yarn? It lured me back. After feeling like I wiped the place clean, still feeling a little weak from all the yarn fumes, I went back to that little skein. It was from Sweetgrass Yarns; handpainted local sock yarn, I never can resist its charms and wiles. If you ever get the chance, look them up. Their line of Toe Jammies sock yarns are beautiful and they come three ways: 100% superwash wool, 65% superwash wool 35% bamboo, and last but not least: 50% superwash wool 50% tencel. Tencel and superwash wool is the greatest sock yarn on earth, perhaps only rivaled by wool/silk blends. It’s the shininess, you know. I had to get one of each: [list colors and types]. My only regret, I should have bought more.

My mother and sister? My mom bought 1 foot of beaded, embroidered ribbon, my sister, one 2 lb ball of navy superwash wool roving with 4-1 oz packages of sprinklies to spin into it. They fondled lots of yards of roving: silk, bamboo, wool, tencel, alpaca and they only bought one thing of roving? I’m extremely disappointed in their shopping powers. Normally my sister is the power-shopping queen. Such talent gone completely to waste. Oh well, they left the sock yarn to me, so I might forgive them someday for their disappointing performance.

Now the Intermountain West is normally Quarter horse country, great horses for working cattle and working the ranch, but not my cup of tea. Don’t get me wrong, they are great horses, but I’ll confess I’m a bit of horse snob right next to being a yarn snob. While my first horse was a Quarter horse cross/mutt that I loved greatly, I quickly moved up to a Morgan mare and now currently the proud momma of a Morgan/Friesian cross, Storm Dancer, my 1,100 lb lapdog.

The rest of my family has taken this horse snobbery to yet another level. Last fall my mother took a giant leap and bought not one, but two purebred Dutch Friesians: a 5-year old gelding, Dante, and a yearling filly, Crystal. A Friesian is to a Quarter horse what a BMW is to a Chevy. Friesians are the horse equivalent of quivet. Grace, elegance, power, personality; I could wax poetically for hours upon their talents and merits. In short, Morgan/Friesian crosses and purebred Friesians stand out like sore thumbs in our neck of the woods.

So what are the chances of finding a Friesian farm in Southwestern Montana? Pretty slim-to-none. Coming down the Montana side of Lost Trail past, we see Friesians, lots of Friesians. I thought Mom was going to stop the car right there in the middle of the road after I yelled “Friesians!” (If you are going to be a horse snob, you have to have a luxury horse detector.)

Since we had whirled through the fiber fair in record time, we had plenty of time to spare. You drive that far, it had better be worth what you paid for gas. We stopped to see the Friesians, just pulled off the side of the highway to drool.

But something this wonderful, you can never admire at a distance. “Let’s go knock on the door to see their horses,” Mom stated. Three women just go sauntering up to someone’s door and say we want to see their horses? Uh…okay. Maybe they won’t be home.

Someone was home.

Someone was named Carrie, a lovely, very nice lady who was more than happy to show us her horses after we explained that we had Friesians and were always on the look out for a few more. Within 3 minutes, we found out she had not one but two Friesians stallions, but sadly both were back in Virginia for training, and five other purebreds and several Friesian crosses on the farm. Instead, we were quickly escorted out to the paddocks to see the two foals and mommas. I never can resist new foals; I’m putty in their hands.

After that we were introduced to the rest of the herd: a very lovely Ster+Preferent mare that would probably soon make Model. And then, the most stunning yearling filly I have ever seen in my life, Tiana. Friesians tend to go through an ugly duckling stage from 6 months to 3 years. Not Tiana. Tiana is gorgeous. I’ve seen fully grown Ster mares that couldn’t hold a candle to Tiana. I seriously contemplated horse-thieving but I believe in Montana that horse thieving is still down in the law books as a hanging offense.

We had a lovely time and got to know every single horse on the ranch. If you have a chance, go to http://www.onepondranch.com to see all of Carrie’s beautiful, friendly horses. It was worth the entire trip.

OTN Report:
Grape Harbor Shawl from Wendy Knits out of Intereplacements Kansas, 109. (Yes, still. This is the shawl that will never end!)

Sarah’s standard socks in Great Adirondack Merino Superwash in Deep Blue Sea.