Back in September, I bought three freshly-shorn dark grey fleeces from Ruckle Farm, down on the south end of the island. They were stored in a sack in one of my closets, and soon became a favourite napping spot for Angus the cat. I always knew when he had been in there, 'cause he smelled like a little sheep. I also knew if I left them for too long, they would become just another layer in the archeological dig that is my stash, so I needed to at least wash them.
Not the most compelling subject matter, I have to admit. And there are mountains of the stuff! Every surface in the house will soon be covered with grey fluff.
I spun a sample skein of yarn: bulky, textured, pretty. There will be a mountain of that, too. Not the best colour to work with during the winter - I will have to spike it now and then with something bright.