Last November, I finally finished spinning my four-ounce bag of fiber from Unplanned Peacock in the colorway Frog Prince.
I can’t remember if it is 100% Merino or if there’s some nylon in there, making it socky. In a completely uncharacteristic move, I’ve lost the tag. And I’m not enough of a connoisseur to tell a fiber’s contents by its feel.
I loved spinning the singles—pale to vibrant greens with tinges of mauve scattered here and there. Just gorgeous.
And then came the plying decision. To two-ply or chain ply?
(No, of course, I don’t start spinning with such a plan in mind! Why on earth would I do that?! Yours truly is a process spinner/knitter/yarner. When people ask me what I am going to make with what I’m spinning, I try not to be a gigantic smartass when I say, “Yarn.”)
For the life of me, I can’t remember what made me do it, but I decided to do a two-ply. Maybe it was because I had two relatively equally weighted bobbins.
(Maybe I did start off the spinning project with the plan of doing a two-ply… How am I supposed to remember these things?)
As I guided the two singles through my fingers and onto the bobbin, I knew almost immediately it wasn’t turning my crank. I mean, I did like the barber-poling. Barber-pole yarn, specifically this colorway of Zauberball Crazy, is what got me into spinning to begin with, but I just didn’t like how the colors were getting muddled.
Despite this, ever onward I plied.
And when one bobbin ran out, of course there was still a bit left on the other one. (The two bobbins weren’t that equal…) So I did as I always do and chain-plied the remainder for scrap—spinning leaders, waste weft, provisional cast-ons, etc.
I have a little collection of these leftovers stuffed in the front pocket of my spinning wheel bag.
This is what I should have done.
In general, I love the rounder smoothness of a three-ply. In this tiny ball of yarn, I love the solid gradations of color. See that little pop of pink peeking through in the ball? In the two-ply, it got diluted.
I have just over five hundred yards of the two-ply stuff—and just this tiny little ball of what I really wanted but didn’t know it.
I niddy-noddied the yarn off the wheel and neglected it for two months. I didn’t wash it. I didn’t wind it. I didn’t even take it out my bag.
But I did solemnly swear that I would chain-ply my next yarn, a lovely braid of Polwarth from Sheepish Creations dyed to soft springy hues of leaf, peach, and apricot.
And as you might have guessed, I’ve made peace with the Frog Prince.
To be continued…