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Mohair rituals
There is a quiet rhythm to working with mohair.
Not rushed, not forced - just a return to something slower, older, and deeply human.
Mohair is not only a fibre. It is a practice.
A ritual begins long before the first stitch. It starts with choosing - cones of airy, luminous yarn, each thread holding the story of the Angora goat, raised with care and respect.
When your piece arrives, it may still carry a trace of something softer - fresh flowers, from the way I finish and block each knit using my favourite fabric conditioner. It won’t stay for long. The scent fades quickly, leaving only the fibre itself.
To knit with mohair is to slow down.
The yarn resists urgency. It asks for presence. Each loop is lighter than expected, yet full of character - haloed, alive, shifting in the light.
Many of these pieces are made in the greenhouse.
It becomes my studio when I need a change of scenery. Light filters through glass and leaves, softer somehow. Seedlings stretch quietly beside me. There is something in their presence - the quiet resilience of growth that mirrors the fibre itself.
Even something as unexpected as a cactus holds a similar strength beneath its surface.
There is always quiet company.
A cat, sunning herself in warmth, occasionally drawn to the movement of yarn - though she knows she is not allowed. Chickens linger nearby, unhurried, watching in their own way as things grow.
And still, the knitting goes on.