Just a wee spot of yarn...

I've mentioned my stash a few times lately, on der blog, in email, when chatting with friends... then today my dear ol' Mum got her plane tickets to come visit for the whole month of May (woot!) and this got me thinking of my stash again. How on earth are they related, you ask? Because my stash occupies my Yarn Room (yes, a whole room of yarn) and, while Mom is here, she also occupies my yarn room, while it is cleverly disguised as my Guest Room. Yes, it's true: I stash my yarn AND my mother in my yarn room.

It's not a very big room, mind you, and our inflatable bed is a huge monster that fills up almost the entire thing. We literally have to wedge either end of it under the shelves. Mom sleeps there, surrounded by walls of yarn. She says it's very inspiring. She says she loves staying in there. I believe her 'cause, you know, I would too. I like just going in and looking around. I'm only in this whole gig for the yarn. It's always been the yarn.


So here is the part of my stash that actually fits in the yarn room:

The south wall: cones and spools of wool, mohair, chenille, acrylic and cotton. Recently some of my spools of heavy cotton snuck over to this side of the room when the opposite wall got too full... Note Mom's bedside table. Those are her pillows poking out the bottom left corner, too! (Yay! Mom is coming in May!)


The west wall: balls of knitting yarn, skeins of wool not yet turned into balls, and more stuff that's leaked over from the production wall. Also Mom's bedside bookshelf. Once upon a time this wall was organized by colour from left to right and by fibre from top to bottom. This did not last.

NB: The Tim Horton's cups are absolutely critical pieces of weaving equipment. I sort the little bits of string I use to tie my warp chains into them. Long strings go in the large and short ones in the medium, OF COURSE. I've got more cups near the looms in which I collect the little strings as they come off the chains. Am I neurotic organized or what? (Please don't answer that.)


The north wall: spools of the cotton and acrylic that I use in most of my weaving for sale. Lots of other spools of stuff that I've bought with the intention of using it to weave for sale, including those big grey cones of really fine and really yummy "cashwool". Why did I buy such fine stuff? I do not weave with fine stuff! I am such a sucker for mill ends. The clamp lights are also guest room accoutrements.


Back of the door: more knitting yarns. I am told that some people actually use this kind of yarn holder for shoes. Shoes, in a perfectly good yarn holder! What are they thinking!? Who could possibly have that many shoes anyway?



The closet: wool yarns that don't fit anywhere else, alpaca and wool fibre for spinning, and some cotton warp chains wrapped in newspaper that my sister found at Goodwill. The newspapers are from 1967 and I'd be very much surprised if the warp chains aren't as well. I'm afraid they'll fall apart if I unwrap them.

I know, I know what you're thinking: "Where does your Mom put her clothes if that's the closet?" Do not fret! Buried under all that stuff is a little filing cabinet, and I've very generously emptied out the front half of one drawer for her use. AND there's also a spring loaded closet rod just out of frame at the top of the closet for her to hang her clothes on. Lap of luxury, that is.

All I can say is: it's a darn good thing Mom caught the weaving bug from me or I don't know where the heck I'd stash her when she came to visit. Who but another weaver would put up with this? And who but a mother would be coming for an entire month to help me make stuff for the shop -- for the second time! Who's the luckiest thing? I am the luckiest thing!

Not pictured: the shelves filled with cones of wool and the other shelves filled with Pendleton wool selvedges near Mabel, the big boxes of vintage wools (circa 1952!!) and the laundry hamper filled with 2 ply for blankets in the library, the chest filled with fibre for spinning in the living room.... the list goes on and on. And I haven't even touched on the basketry supplies, the fabrics, the beads (omg, the beads!)...

Clearly, my husband loves me as much as my mother does to put up with all this. I repeat: I am the luckiest thing!