Olds Fibre Freak Week

After a lovely family visit I travelled to Olds Alberta which has a venerable agricultural college which offers an annual week for the fibre addicted. You wonder what does that mean? "Fibre Addicted"? I often say to casual acquaintances that after the apocalypse my family will be warm. I have a manageable hoard of wool and wool relatives stashed in various locations around the home place. My lovely husband sometimes jokes that he opens what he perceived to be an empty drawer/vessel/cupboard/item and a flurry of fluff will puff out at him. That is the epitome of fibre freakery. Oh, yes, in Canada we can spell it 'fibre' or 'fiber', we just swing that way.

In Olds, at Fibre Week is when I get to talk (at length) with my people. The people who make it from scratch, the shepherds, the dyers, spinners, weavers and knitters. My people are really amazing. They are kind, generous and helpful. In my imagination I have funny little cartoons to illustrate this, but since I'm more of a writer than an artist, I'll elaborate.

The accommodations are Spartan, like camping. You've got a fridge, stove and sink; but no dishes, soap or towels. A lovely gal from Saskatchewan brought me a fry pan, pot, flipper, kettle and towels (dish and drying).

My people talk about the ethics of where our 'stuff' comes from. We worry about whether we should or shouldn't buy certain things based on how it will affect our world. My people believe in climate change.

My people will joke with me about how many wool fleece I bought, but then offer me some of theirs. My people are in the cities, towns, villages, cabins in the woods and farms raising the fabulous stuff I love to spin.