I had reserved Sunday morning for plying, as I’m sure many do. It’s not my favourite activity, but I was determined to get my linen singles off the bobbin and into a skein. My first 100g bobbin had languished for quite some time, and I’d worked hard this past week to get the second half spun up.
I plied my way through a podcast, and niddy-noddied through part of another. My deltoids were nice and toasty warm by the end.
I double checked with the all-knowing internet that I should be boiling this thing before throwing it into the magic cauldron. I added a teaspoon or two of washing soda and a glug of Dr. Bronners.
And simmer, simmer, simmer away she went. (I gotta say, there was something deliciously honey-like to the smell of my linen worm spaghetti.)
A loud POP. A shatter.
The glass lid to my (cheap ass) pot had imploded, sending little shards and squares of glass in every direction. The bulk of the centre of the lid had fallen straight down into the water turning my yarn into a glittery, barbed mess.
Here’s the thing: I know this feeling. I’ve learned this lesson before. I can still relive the interminable instant when that heavy cylindrical piece of kiln furniture keeled over onto my precious clay crab, knocking its right claw clean off its body. It’s one of those slow-mo realizations about the linear nature of time. Nope, no take-backs. No do-overs. And no freaking way to pick out each microscopic piece of evil glass that didn’t even exist mere moments ago!
I do eventually get to some trite place of peace. It’s the journey, Allison. The fields of flax are already sprouting anew. Kumbaya.
Yes, but it still hurts.
- Fibre: 100% flax top – natural brown, from The Fibre Garden
- Weight: 200g, lace/fingering, two ply
- Length: 736 yards in two skeins
- Notes: First flax experience. A 2014 Christmas gift from family. Spun with damp fingers.