Looms can be noisy beasts. Depending on which loom I’m using it either clicks and clacks or thumps and bangs. For the past couple of weeks, I just can’t bear the idea of the noise.
The world is noisy enough these days. It’s almost impossible to avoid the anger and angst of this election season. Everyone seems worn down to their last nerve.
I have retreated to the gentle whir of my spinning wheel. The wool I am spinning is white and fluffy and soft as down. I sit at the wheel and treadle - not too fast, not too slow, just right. Treadle one, I draft out a little fiber, open my fingers and the twist turns the fluff into fine thread. Treadle two, the new thread flows onto the bobbin. Repeat. Over and over again.
Eventually, slowly, the bobbin fills with thread. Eventually the talking heads, the irate Facebook memes are silent. There is just the soft whir of the wheel.