Wednesday, 1 May 2013

Giving it a spin

(Irish spinning wheel - around 1900 - Library of Congress Collection - from Wikipedia)

Back to the sheep farm. I was wondering... can we emulate that photograph? I mean, this is a sheep farm after all. Let's see...

We got the wool, we got the spinning wheel, and we got... the graceful spinning lady!

She seems to know what she's doing. But I'm easy to impress :-)) 
And we have much, much more. A bonfire, a few glasses of wine, a caravan palace, and tchitt-tchaaatt of course. What a great evening it was.

(photo by Henny)


  1. I thought that first pic was me at first glance!
    I don't know about graceful, but if you mean spinning lady as a noun, then yes, I was indeed...
    It looks as if we live in some kind of poorhouse! Reminiscent of Steptoe and Son!

  2. Viz, the joke only works because you don't look a thing like her. But maybe the joke didn't work as well as I wanted it to? Hmmmm....
    It's not a poorhouse it's a caravan palace!! I would swap my very flat 40m2 with it any time!

  3. Whatever time and place these wonders are occurring in must be a very fine time and place. Understanding of course that it is here and now but the feeling of faraway and long ago is also very powerful -- and securing.

  4. Thank you, Tom. You are right, it is securing to think that this place exists, somewhere and somewhen. Even from a distance. Things will be alright.

  5. Sorry about the abrupt ending to Mavis's homecoming, there. Here she gets to take us all the way home to that place she knows... where we'd all like to go.

    Staple Singers: I'll Take You There (live, 1971)

  6. Mavis Mavis. I would let her take me there, no doubt about it.

  7. You're right, IS a caravan palace! And anyone who can see that is welcome anytime! Fancy mansions and show-homes are boring. Thanks for shaking me up again with your wisdom!

  8. Well, as the book says, there are many mansions. (Which book was that again?)

    I do love that glowing hobgoblin furnace-face in Henny's bottom photo, where there's a hearth there's always a caravan palace somewhere in the neighborhood.

    Indeed I like all furnace-faces, including and maybe especially the faces of the disused furnaces from ancient superceded industrial epochs, they have a curious sadness about them, as if to say, who has taken away my warmth, my glow.

    For example, the sad furnace-face in an abandoned paper factory in Poland, pictured in the lower photo here.

    Perhaps it is sad because paper is another of those obsolete technologies.

    But of course the trees aren't sad about that.

    (And the paperbark trees don't mind either way, as their friends treat them so kindly, in particular by memorializing them in wondrous little boekies.)

  9. Oh Tom, that paperbark comment is so sweat. Thank you.

    And this particular little furnace shall now be named Hobgoblin.

  10. Tom, if you ever think there might be a way for the P and the Sweat to send you a few boekies and the like, please do not hesitate to let them know. I know the two of them and they both would really like that.
    Don't discard obsolete. It feels real nice out of the ark. Obsolete is warm, obsolete can warm your hands.

  11. Oh for sure, they are really nice gals. Especially the tall one. ;-P

  12. Oh, I do love obsolete... indeed, this is no more than a form of amour-propre, for I am, as has probably already been noted, entirely and in every way obsolete myself.

    Vizma, it's definitely no sweat to hear the brilliant news about the naming of the warmly glowing little hobgoblin furnace.

    Marie, your generous offer tempts me to do a frightening and forbidden thing, and that is, to tell you that the snail address is 1740 Marin Avenue, Berkeley CA 94707.

    So there, another first!

    Of course your snail address is "out there for all the world to see"!-- you daring thing you! -- but, and I am sure this is wisdom -- not your "private" email (I have strong doubts as to whether there anyway exists any such thing as private email, in practical reality, somebody or something is always logging-in every keystroke, but still...)... and for that matter neither is ours, as in fact I don't have one, the one I am permitted to use on strict (well, semi-strict) condition of secrecy belongs to the sensible Kiwi companion... but I will admit that a certain amount of poking-about, some time back, yielded a lab email address for you... which may or may not be current and which in any case out of discretion it seemed unwise to ever use... see above, under "every keystroke"... and so do forgive my even mentioning this, dear Alphonse, said your faithful correspondent, Gaston.

  13. Oh, fantastic!! Thank you for this "first"! I was a bit afraid to ask, but then I thought oh well who doesn't ask will never get anything anyway. Now the short legged-one and her very Sweaty sister can start on boekies, yaay. This makes me happy, thank you Tom. And if the Kiwi companion with the soft skin and shiny hair ever lets Gaston close to that machine activated by flat keys, here is another address in return (Oh I miss Italy....)

  14. What goes up, must come down, spinning wheels got to go around. Great photos and stories. They really make me want to visit, but the I saw the snake. I think it was brave even to take a photo so close.
    Thanks again Bug glasses. dm