Fiber is Somebody's Hair

I just realized why I was drawn to that gorgeous auburn alpaca I spun into the yarn for Hubbest's neck-warmer:  it's the color of my mother's hair.  Actually, I have spun my mother's hair itself.  You see, when I was born all those many years ago, Mom had long, thick braids she wore in a coronet.  But dealing with a newborn, the tresses were too much work, so she took the shears and lopped them off whole, with the rubber bands still on.

A few years later, some of the hair from one of those braids became the tail of my toy pony, sewn by Mom to delight me.  The other braid I still have, but when I began to spin, I worked a goodly quantity of it into some yarn I sent my sister-in-law to knit into a scarf for David, my brother. 

Fishermen's wives used to knit some of their hair into the sweaters they made their husbands, as a talisman and a link to home.  And who among us hasn't found a stray long hair of her own accidentally knitted into a garment?

Mom saved the sheddings from her Australian Shepherd, Sam (what a lovely dog he was), and I spun some of it for her.  Yes, you can spin a dog.  Or a cat. 

Fiber is somebody's hair, so it's no surprise I'm attracted to Pygora, that crossbreed of pygmy goat with angora goat.  Breeders sell their fleece by the animal's name, so what I recently spun, the roving milled from the fleece from a critter called Buckwheat, was sold as Buckwheat, along with the little fellow's picture.

That really brings it up close and personal.  Who wouldn't love a rascal like this?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyaqlnqHRA4&feature=related  (You might have to copy/paste that link, but it's worth the trouble:  pygmy goats playing on top of a pot-bellied pig.)