Ravelings: Wool in the Family

When I received a beautiful antique wooden secretary from my grandparents and began going over it with lemon oil, I was surprised to find two hidden compartments—and even more surprised to find a stack of letters and a picture of my father, probably age four or five, sitting atop my grandfather’s shoulders on horseback. The photo was taken in the late 1940s or early 1950s in Montana, on the sheep ranch where my great-grandparents lived.

At the time I found the photo, a friend had just asked me if I wanted to learn to knit. It was to be a shared adventure into a new pastime. I had crocheted and cross-stitched, and although my mom had attempted to teach me to knit, it hadn’t stuck—not for her lack of trying, but for my preference for self-directed learning.

At my friend’s suggestion, I drove straight to the nearest yarn shop and asked for two sets of needles, two skeins of yarn, and two knitting bags. When the owner of the yarn shop asked if I “even knew how to cast on,” I said no and asked for a book on knitting. She handed me a pamphlet titled How to Knit and offered to show me the long-tail cast-on. I reluctantly agreed, feeling the pinch of my independent streak.

At the time, I didn’t realize that I would spend the next 15 years eyeball deep in the yarn industry, nor that I was unwittingly wandering into a dance with my family’s long ties to all things wool.

Related: Ravelings: Appreciation of Craft

Artifacts of a Family History of Fiber

My family history has been preserved through the sharing of photos, stories, writings, tools of various trades, and handcrafted items. In a brief memoir written by my grandfather, he described his life on the sheep ranch in Montana. Among the heirlooms I have are a branding iron with my grandfather’s initials, seat covers done up in needlepoint by my great-grandmother on my father’s side, and the circular knitting needles used by my great-grandmother on my mother’s side. I even have a collection of intricately adorned and carefully modified eggshells-turned-art, crafted by my father’s other grandmother. But of all the precious things I have, one stands apart.

At some point, my mother gave me a small, yellowed envelope. On the front appears the address of someone with the last name Steele, a 1.5-cent postage stamp, and a May 16, 1940, postal cancellation stamp. Inside it holds a collection of stitching samples including some tatting and a small piece of embroidery with an image of a bird on it. But what makes this remnant of the past so special is this handwritten note on the back of the envelope: “Margaret your grandmother made this little piece. Am sending you all my samples. Some are very old. Hope you keep them and when I’m gone and you are an old woman you will look at them sometime.” 

I’m not entirely sure who made the samples or to which of the Margarets in my family these were originally sent, but I occasionally pull out this envelope and read the note on the back, and I quietly let the maker know her work is valued, and that she is remembered through her handiwork.

Related: Sentimental Musings About a Crocheted Cape

Do you have a family history of fiber arts? Tell us about it in the comments!

Ladianne Henderson is an artist, writer, and avid yarn and fiber whisperer. She co-owns Hand Dyed Diva, an independent dyer of yarn and fiber, with her wife Sheri. Ladianne has a Master of Fine Arts degree in Interdisciplinary Arts, a Master Hand Knitter certification, and was honored to be inducted as a Tory Burch Fellow in 2022. See her hand-dyed yarns at www.handdyeddiva.com.