A very handsome young outdoorsy type - Chuck Norris comes to mind - came into my booth today, holding a tiny piece of an old run of roving. I recognized it right away as the yellow mohair I brought when I moved here then lost in the tractor shed. What joy when I found a giant bag of it buried in the detritus of my former life. The man said Do you have any more of this? I did, but it was broken up in pieces and put into the Mother Fiber Sampler Packs. I showed it to him and explained that when I am low on a run I sometimes break it up. I showed him the newer runs of yellow and apologized, explaining that the runs can never be duplicated the way I make them, with some of this and some of that. I was a little unnerved by his handsomeness and overt maleness, and decided not to ask if he was spinning it himself, or was sent by a female to find more. He acted like he was the fiber artist. The man was totally blown away by my Robin wheel and wanted to know who made such a masterpiece with the inlaid wood, etc. We had a lovely chat. The man bought two pounds of yellow/goldish Mother Fiber and 15 bars of soap. He paid and left, with me wondering who was that fibery, earthy, hand-made man. Such is life at the farmer's market.
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