once, I must have done something good...

because the other day, I got sent this.


And this isn't just ordinary wool, either. This is special, surprise wool, present wool, bouncy, soft, comes from a named flock wool (the Pyefinch flock, if anyone wants to know), lace weight wensleydale wool, creamy gorgeousness that must be used for something good wool. And all because Ms Ruth WoollyWormhead is a kind and generous person, who fell for my 'pity me, pity me' posts about having 'flu (in winter too, who would have thought).

And the wool has passed the cat test, and been pronounced good. But because this wool came out of the left field, it is demanding that it be treated differently, and it wants to evoke, EVOKE, I tell you.

So although there is knitting going on (no, I didn't shut down completely after, what was it now, some kind of knotting or macrame jamboree, but it was close), and things are being done, and things put away half-done are being brought out of storage to complete, and there are some projects that have due dates (who knew that small boys could be so very demanding as to precise colour combinations and models of diggers to be depicted). And that is all very fine and good, and fun and productive and, and, and. But my mind is dreaming of creamy white swirls.

And the wool, it wants to be this when it grows up. It wants to be the trip to Iceland I made years ago now, the trip where I heard silence, walked behind waterfalls, talked and talked and talked (and sat in silence, quite comfortably) with a very dear friend, found lava and sulphur and guinness and amazingly good coffee, and black sand and sunlight (oh, the light), and ice lakes. So now, I just have to work out how.