Phinela: Part II

When we first moved to our town, we did not have any farm animals besides chickens. I did not come from a farming background, but after struggling with Chronic Lyme Disease and being rendered all but immobile, fiber became a passion. After we had lived here for only about one year, we found three angora goats on craigslist (I wouldn’t do that again!) and the rest is history.

During that year after we acquired the goats, I began thinking about sheep, as a way to use up all the mohair the goats were producing. So, we then found ourselves with two finnsheep. One day my husband came home from a run and asked if I had seen the ruins of the mill around the corner. I said no, and he began to tell me about how this mill was the first water-powered fiber mill in the country, and that it had a crazy story to go with it. So I went to check it out.

“Beginning a mill in 1791 along Collyer Brook in what is now Gray, Maine, Samuel Mayall's operation became the first successful water-powered woolen mill in North America. Establishing the mills in Gray was not easy. Woolen interests in England had prohibited the production of goods in the colonies and worked diligently to prevent British wool-making technology from being put to use in competition with them. Realizing this, Mayall smuggled plans for his machinery out of England hidden in bales of cloth meant for trade with Indians. When British woolen guilds learned of his deception, they tried at least twice to kill him. Once they sent him a hat in which they had hidden pins laced with poison and another time a box with loaded pistols rigged to fire when the box was opened. Suspicious of both packages, Mayall managed to avoid the untimely death his enemies had planned for him.”

“In time, the original single wooden structure grew into a sprawling mill complex, featuring two large buildings known as the lower mill and the upper mill, each powered by the water of Collyer Brook. Built in 1816 to expand Mayall’s production, the Upper Mill continued to produce woolen cloth until it was destroyed by fire in 1886. Despite the fire and decades of decay, one corner of the Upper Mill still stands.” A photograph of the Upper Mill can be found here.

“After Samuel Mayall died in 1831, his daughters Mary and Phanela took over the milling operation and built the Lower Mill in 1834. This building continued to produce cloth in all but a few years until 1902. This photograph shows the Lower Mill and the buildings that once surrounded it. These include the original 1791 structure that was converted to a carpenter shop when the Upper Mill was built, the Picker House, where wool was picked, cleaned, and graded before being spun into yarn and the old Picker House.”

It felt serendipitous, at the least, to discover that the area we were living in was once home to not only an incredible piece of history, but many farms that raised sheep for fiber production. This beautiful, serene location has also become our family’s favorite swimming hole. It is so far off the beaten track, and without any signage to point visitors to the spot, that we rarely see another soul. There is a lovely path that winds around the ruins of the mill and along the water’s edge, and the current is usually a great deal slower, but perfect below the mill for young children.

So there you have it. The story behind the names of our two lines of yarn; Phinela and Mary. It felt only right to honor them in some way, and what I imagine to be two smart, capable, and somewhat unusual, women. They ran a very successful business during a time when women were rarely known to do such things. I occasionally imagine them around as I am working, and wonder what they were like, if they would approve, or if running a business to them was merely a means to an end. In any case, their intrepid spirits live on in our yarn!

* All information above was found either on location, by way of informational signs, or here.

Phinela: Part I

One of the things I love most about being involved in the fiber world, is the people I get to meet. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world that I get to wake up every morning and be outside with the animals I adore, in all kinds of weather. Most days I have my hands in the dirt, and the rest of my time I get to enjoy not only the fruits of my labor in the garden, but also the fruits of working with fiber animals. Producing a fiber product from start to finish is a lot of work, but incredibly rewarding. Along the way, I work with other farmers, a shearer, veterinarians, animal supply store owners, apprentices, farm helpers, fiber mill owners and employees, vendors, knitters, artists, and pattern designers. It truly takes a village to create a farm-to-fiber product.

One incredible woman I have had the opportunity to get to know is a very talented pattern designer by the name of Beatrice Perron Dahlen (@threadandladle). She knew exactly what to do with my yarn, and created a lovely, luxurious shawl that is truly perfect for everyday use.

Beatrice decided to call the shawl “Phinela”, after the name of our staple yarn blend, which is made with next-to-skin soft 60% finnsheep and 40% kid mohair, all from our flock/herd. Although I am partial to our own fiber, there are so many sport weight yarns out there that would be stunning as well for this pattern. And as Beatrice states, and I concur, knit with something you truly love! As the second half of a two-part post, I will be talking a bit about where the inspiration came from for the names of our two lines of fiber; Phinela and Mary.

As many of you out there know, my background is actually photography, not fiber or farming. So, another part of my job is getting to occasionally put those skills to work. Most often I use them for my own products, but I LOVE photographing knitwear! This photoshoot was particularly fun, and Beatrice was a trooper when I asked her to go wading in the ocean to get to where the light was most beautiful.

I am just itching to get this shawl knit up for myself in a couple of our naturally-dyed skeins. (See the previous post…I’m thinking that beautiful goldenrod…)

If you are interested in knitting this shawl, please head over to Beatrice’s ravelry page, and snatch up the pattern. Also, while you are there, take a look at some of her other stunning work; she has also written a wonderful book!

August Dyeing

Let the dyeing marathon begin! These upcoming weeks will be devoted almost entirely to dyeing fiber in preparation for the Common Ground Fair. This is really my favorite part of the process, as creating the colors never does get old. This first batch is with some of our "Mary" yarn; a blend of 70% mohair, 30% finn, and the combination is just out of this world in terms of the luster. Because of that luster, every skein of yarn is jewel-like in its beauty. 

I am particularly fond of this gradient of blues into greens. I'm just itching for someone to purchase the lot of them and knit up something divine. My favorite of the whole dye batch is the second photo...goldenrod and weld. That color is a shade I begin to crave in the middle of winter, when I can't remember what the sun's rays feel like on my face...

(Late) July, (Early) August

We've been so crazy busy the past few weeks that it's rare for me to have a free minute to sit down at the computer and write. There have been many beautiful, wonderful moments and family times of connection; a 60th birthday party, a visit from my brother and sister-in-law and their little boy all the way from Hawaii, a few perfect days at a lake, a new barn in the works, a bountiful and productive garden, and a quick getaway for just the two of us up North where there is nothing but silence and each other.

July.

Tonight was one of those nights. It rained off and on for most of the day, and when it stopped, we were left with every beautiful scent of a humid July evening. The fog hung in the air like a thick blanket, wrapping itself around our bodies and filling the air with a sticky dampness that clings. There is nothing quite like the smell of damp earth and forest, but those who are lucky enough to know what I mean, well, you're lucky.

The challenge for me during this season is, as always, to slow down. I don't mean slow down and do nothing, I mean slow down and appreciate. Take notice. This can be done simply by taking an extra deep breath on a particularly fragrant evening, such as this. Or, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my lids for a few seconds in the garden. It is difficult to remember to do those things, but they are imperative. Those few seconds of noticing have the power to change the entire day.