I have learned a new word and it rather defines me in my life as though I invented it. Meandering in thoughts, as if walking through hilly meadows collecting tufts of wool, I do ponder, always one thing or another. I guess, it is ” woolgathering ” that I am up to; contemplating life-to-be when our house is finished being rebuilt. I am embracing the woolgathering, and in more ways than one.
In the painting, there are three women stuffing found things (wool) from bushes, or the ground, into their bags. One of them and her dog seems to have come upon and surprised a small group of sheep.
I am bemused by gathering actual wool too. Knitting in a frenzy ten-at-a-time, on my new birch wood dpns, and writing and testing a new pattern, and collecting wool in yarn form (mostly sock yarn presently) and in dyed roving form (for blending on my remade blending board) and to spin on my wheel (a gift, which is destined to be freed from a tightly packed shed) … to fulfill that quest which consumes me. I gather wool, thoughts, ideas, and the tools of the trade for the work in the territory ahead. Woolgathering is just what I do for now.
I am definitely a woolgatherer (noun), out woolgathering (verb).
What are you woolgathering about?