Today is one of those lazy, dreamy, summer days. I tried to make myself sit and write but all I want to do is create and dream. I keep getting lost in the colours of my fibre for the Tour de Fleece and of course Daisy, my wheel is in need of a little clean before we kick off on Saturday. As I cleaned and carefully buffed the wheel spokes, questions kept popping into my mind.

How many times had Daisy been cleaned in the past? By how many different pairs of hands? Where they skilled? Did they love her as much as I did? Did she reward them with beautiful handspun? When they cleaned her roughly, did she repay them by fighting their spinning sessions? 

My mind has a tendency to run off in tangents. It’s so hard some days to reign myself in and focus especially when I’m fighting burnout. Days like today when I’m cleaning Daisy and prepping my fibre, I try and pull my inspiration from my daily tasks but today the kids won’t stop fighting, even after a beach walk and I don’t remember the last time I got to finish a hot cup of coffee. When my brain is this tired I try to loose myself in the mundane, everyday tasks and dream. Usually, that’s easy because I’m so tired I drift naturally. So, I cleaned and the questions kept coming.

Where did her beautiful wood come from? How old was it? I knew she was made in Co. Donegal and as Irish as I was but before that, before she became my beautiful spinning wheel, was she a magnificent oak tree and what was her view like? How many people had she sheltered from the rain, how many secrets had she heard whispered beneath her boughs? As I worked, I found myself just tracing the wheel shape with my hands. I felt the weight of her beautiful main wheel, how sturdy it was and how it responded to the gentle buffing. She was starting to glow and I knew I was finished. Oh and for those hand spinners Daisy is just fine, she’s just impossible to photograph:

In the back of my mind recently I have been taking note of what possessions we are keeping and what we need to give away or rehome. Anyone who has been a parent understands the build up of stuff from gifts to hand me downs to charity finds to emergency purchases. The children grow and it becomes clutter and I have been starting to feel boxed in. I have been trying to find reasons to keep our things and that has made me look at them differently. Not the “Do I feel joy?” but are they handmade? Are they natural? Are they sustainable? Do they tell a story? Will I look at them in 5 years and still love the curves or the wood? When I clean them will I get lost in their backstories?

As this is our permanent home, I don’t want to clutter her with things. I want to have a home that functions but when we walk around it has history. I guess that’s why we chose a 100-year-old cottage. She has an innate beauty of her own and I want to find a way where can all come together and get lost in daydreams when we need to. I’m just not sure on how to do it just yet but therein lies the challenge.

I have hidden in my blog enough for today and I have yet more tasks to do but it has been nice to share these thoughts with youas I let another cup of coffee grow cold.

xxxx