That title just came to mind. Never mind that it was inspired by nothing: it sounded good and so I went with it.
But really, how could whorls collide unless you are spinning on two drop spindles simultaneously (and ambidextrously) and get them a little too close together? Boggles the mind. Experimentation will not be forthcoming, before you ask!
I’ve been thinking lately that one of my favorite things to do is to write, and that I haven’t done enough of it. A novel has been rolling around in the back of my mind for a long time now, though my mind is always so full of stuff there shouldn’t be room for anything to roll. But, still.
Any rendering of this novel onto legible material is still a long way off, so I tell myself that I should practice by keeping up with the blog. So I’ll pretend that I have one whorl spinning blog posts and another spinning a novel and perhaps one day they will collide, assuming that their individual momentums are long-lasting.
Meanwhile, back at Bebbanburg, time has marched on. Brian has put in a lot of hours on the interior of the house, and it is nearing completion of Phase I, which is the one that doesn’t involve replacing most of the windows and doors but does include floors, pantry, laundry room, kitchen, balcony and lights. Hopefully work on the exterior can commence in the spring.
We have adopted a house gnome to help us with these endeavors. I knit him into being a couple of weeks ago; his name is Gnorman. He’s a quiet, quirky creature who listens well and carries out his duties when nobody is looking. Probably.
My weaving studio, which I have named Vävhalla (väv being the Swedish word for weave) is mostly completed (except for baseboards and window trim) and fully occupied.
And that shawl I started eons ago on that dark and stormy day? Finally finished. A queen-sized bed was barely big enough to accommodate it for blocking, but it hangs nicely on Louisa May Woolcop, one of my venerable walking wheels.