Dyeing wool is almost as bad as eating chocolate. I find myself thinking about it at the oddest times. Different color combinations dance through my imagination. In the produce isle I find myself thinking, orange and purple, how would that look in roving? The world has become yarn for me, I'm seeing through a haze of fiber.

The red roving that I dyed a few days ago is slowly becoming single ply that I'm planning to make into two ply. This bobbin is single ply and the second bobbin is almost full. There may even be a third. I think it will make a lovely scarf woven in plain weave with some rayon thrown in the warp for sparkle.

Surely Santa would approve.