It was the early morning of a hot August day when I set out with my camera and my Summer Fields Cardigan, the one I had just sewn buttons on at dawn and met the sun as it was ascending from the valley, before I had even blocked the sweater. I was out photographing in the field, hanging the sweater on a rusty old fence post at the southeast corner of the high vineyard, just a short distance from our house. Suddenly, two ewes ran past me with their lambs, undoubtedly escaping the herd to find tastier grazing further up the ridge.

As I was setting up the photo, next came down from the high vineyard running after them, a girlish woman with wise eyes, a patient smile, a straw hat, and a long thick braid the color of the dried summer field. She ran past me … well, almost past … but not without introducing herself first as Sarah, with a handshake. Believe me the coincidence of the situation was remarkable; she was chasing sheep, and I was hanging a handspun, handknit wool sweater on a fence post. That was how we met, completely oblivious at the time to the imminence of she and I becoming teacher, prodigy, and friends.

That is the story of how we met. Since she lives on the mountain and works nearby, I see her whenever she has an hour to spare to weave or spin, sharing a cup of fresh ginger chai after she is done at the sheepfold, working on the projects that she wants to do, and over time I see her to the finish. On occasion a few from the herd get loose, and Juno gets to chasing them, then I call Sarah to tell her the details of where they went. Although recently they have been more settled in their seasonal fenced areas out of the vineyards while the vines are producing, protected by a huge guardian dog named Tucker whom Juno is absolutely enamored with.

In the spinning and weaving, Sarah has caught on quickly. She keeps a drop spindle tucked in her belt while she is out with the sheep, just like the Andean sheepherders do, and she has even learned to spin while walking as they do. In fact, she learned so fast that it became necessary for me to teach her backstrap weaving like the Andeans too. I provided her with one of my backstrap looms, and we learned the warping together while we watched the Laverne Waddington method in the tiny house. Her first backstrap project went quickly, and she kept up with making belts for her family. Gradually adding skills—so capable and inspired—she is now additionally weaving balanced weave on a rigid heddle loom, the first loom I learned from: the Ashford Knitter’s Loom. These are just more feathers in her cap of textile possibility.

But when she doesn’t have time to spare to come over from the sheepfold (being a homeschooling mom aside from shepherding), I decided to create a new category on my blog dedicated to showing her the necessary steps so that she can continue to learn at her home. Introducing “Notes for Sarah” which is devoted to teaching her virtually and creating and sharing a regional fiber heritage right there on the mountain ridge, passing down the slow art of spinning wool and weaving cloth, and designing our own artful woven wear. As always, it is also just a place to document and share my enthusiasm with the larger textile audience, from this far corner of the world.

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Our very first project in this series is a simple summer poncho top, made specially for her to wear during these hot mountain days, and I wanted to create something approachable for a narrow panel loom that requires minimal shaping, and no cutting. We’ve been contemplating a most primitive and simple top that can be made on the Knitter’s Loom, and we have found just the thing—which is structurally very similar to a short, fringed Andean unku, and I couldn’t help myself to make one for her first, as breadcrumbs to draw her into the siren’s call of handwoven clothing!

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