There is a quiet day tucked into the calendar each year — January 6 — known as Distaff Day. Long before resolutions and productivity planners, this was the day when women would begin the year’s spinning and making. It was not about speed. It was about intention.
I love that.
For me, Distaff Day has become a gentle beginning to my creative year. I don’t rush into projects. I sit by the window with my wool basket. I hold a warm cup of coffee. I let my hands remember their rhythm.
This year, I am stepping into my making with eight gentle intentions. These are not rules but a way of caring for my hands, my home, and my heart.
1. I Will Make Slowly
Not to finish first. Not to keep up. But to let my hands enjoy the work they were given.
2. I Will Choose Wool with a Story
Local when I can. Hand-touched when possible. Fibre that feels like it belongs in my home and my life.
3. I Will Honour the Quiet Days
The days when a few rows are enough. When spinning a little is still faithful making.
4. I Will Make What Is Useful and Loved
Socks for warm feet. Shawls for gentle shoulders. Blankets that wrap stories into stitches.
5. I Will Release Perfection
Crooked stitches still carry love. Uneven yarn still holds warmth.
6. I Will Keep My Basket Simple
Fewer projects. More presence.
7. I Will Let Making Be My Prayer
Each stitch a breath. Each spin a quiet offering.
8. I Will End My Days Gently
Putting my wool away with gratitude. Leaving my hands at rest, not rushed.
A Closing Word
Before I take my first spin of the year, I pause with this blessing:
“May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands.” — Psalm 90:17
May your hands be steady and your heart unhurried. May your basket hold only what your spirit can carry. May your making bring warmth into this world — into homes, into hearts, into quiet corners where comfort is needed most.
Go gently into this creative year. Your making is a blessing.
There’s something about spindle spinning that always feels like coming home.
In the middle of December, the days are short. The calendar is full, and the world seems a little louder than usual. I find myself reaching for my spindle. Not because I have to. But because I want to. It reminds me to slow down, to breathe, and to let my hands do something quiet and good.
If you’re new to spindle spinning, you are doing better than you think. Even if you’ve tried it once or twice and felt unsure, know this right from the start. You’re doing better than you think.
Beginning Where You Are
One of the first things I share in today’s video is how I make a leader. Sometimes I use a bit of pre-spun yarn. Sometimes I make one right from the fiber itself. Both ways are just fine. There’s no rule book here—only gentle guidance and curiosity.
Spindle spinning isn’t about perfection. It’s about learning how the fiber responds, how the twist travels, and how your hands naturally move. Every spindle has its own rhythm, and every spinner does too.
Wrapping, Spinning, and Letting Go
I also show how I wrap the fiber around the spindle to get started. This simple step can feel intimidating at first, but once you’ve done it a few times, it becomes second nature. A wrap, a twist, a pause. Over and over again.
In the video, I’m using one of my favorite 3D-printed spindle—this one doesn’t even have a hook! And yes, that can feel a bit tricky at first. But with a secure wrap and a little patience, it spins beautifully. It’s a good reminder that tools don’t have to be fancy or traditional to be useful. They just have to work for you.
An Invitation to Experiment
If there’s one thing I hope you take away from this, it’s permission.
Permission to experiment. Permission to try different methods. Permission to set the spindle down and come back later.
Spinning has been part of human life for thousands of years. No two people have ever done it exactly the same way. Your spinning doesn’t need to look like mine—or anyone else’s—to be right.
A Quiet Practice for Busy Seasons
During Advent and Vlogmas, spindle spinning has become a small daily ritual for me. Just a few minutes at a time. A way to ground myself, to pray without words, and to remember that slow things still matter.
If you’re spinning along with me this season, I’m so glad you’re here. And if you’re just watching and learning, that’s just as lovely.
🧶 May your fiber be forgiving, your spindle steady, and your heart at ease.
Welcome back, dear friends, to another day of Vlogmas/Spindlemas! Today’s little adventure was all about choices… so many choices. If you’ve ever stood in front of your fiber stash and thought, “Well now, which woolly friend is calling my name today?” — oh goodness, I was right there with you.
Vlogmas Day 12 had me pulling out fibers like a kid digging through a treasure box. Every one of them whispered something different, and honestly? I just wanted to spin them all.
A Burst of Sunshine: The Yellow BFL Blend
First up was the happiest little braid of sunshine you’ve ever seen — a golden yellow Bluefaced Leicester blend. And here’s the fun part: it gets its gorgeous colour from gold food dye. Yes… food dye. Who knew something from the baking cupboard turns fiber into pure sunshine? This one feels lively and warm in the hands. The kind of spin that instantly lifts your mood.
Soft and Steady: The White-Gray Shetland
Next came a fiber that feels like home for me — a gentle white-gray Shetland I had carded and hand-batted. There’s something about Shetland that always feels right. Dependable. Cozy. Honest. This particular batch is destined for mittens, and I’m already imagining how soft and sturdy they’ll be once knit up. Truly a joy to spin.
A Luxurious Treat: Merino–Cashmere Blend
And then… a little luxury. A merino-cashmere blend that practically purrs when you touch it. I’m planning to spin just a bit of it. It’s not for a big project. I want to do it simply for the pleasure of changing pace. Like dessert spinning. Rich, decadent, and exactly what you need when your creative spirit wants to wander.
A Surprise Helper: The Kitten Cameo
And because no Vlogmas day in my house is finished without a little mischief, the kitten made an appearance. She hopped into the frame, ready to supervise, critique, or steal fiber — still not sure which. (I didn’t leave that in the video lol) But goodness, moments like that add such sweetness to the work. Life with wool and whiskers just feels right.
Closing Thoughts
Some days spinning is about a plan. Other days — like today — it’s about delight, surprise, colour, texture, and following whatever fiber feels like joy.
If you’re spinning along with me this Spindlemas, I hope today you choose something joyful. Let it be something that makes your heart do a little happy dance.
Thanks for coming by, dear friends. See you tomorrow for Vlogmas Day 13 — and may your fiber choices be just the right kind of overwhelming.
Advent always asks something of us, doesn’t it? It’s a season of preparation, of tending our spirits, of giving and sharing. A season where the heart gets stretched just a little wider — even when our calendars feel like they’re bursting.
Here in my little corner, it’s also Vlogmas and Spindlemas, which means I’ve been spinning every single day. Last time I chatted with you, I was working on that delicious red Shetland. I still can’t get the camera to capture it nicely. And yes, I can’t believe I said “y’all.” But here we are. I now have two sweet little cops of that red, and it’s sitting happily beside me.
But yesterday, I didn’t dig into my usual basket. To be honest, I know it won’t carry me all the way through December. Instead, I reached for something special. A bit of colour. A bit of chaos. A bit of joy.
I save tiny tufts of everything I spin throughout the year in a little jar. On Distaff Day in January, I card them all together into what I call my mystery batt.. That was the mystery I was spinning yesterday. It is a mix of fibres that probably shouldn’t work together. Somehow, they do. Perfect mitten yarn, I think. And I spun it on my tiny drop spindle, the one that feels like a friend.
Sock Knitting, Christmas Colours… and When Things Don’t Go as Planned
And then there are the socks. I’m knitting the Crazy Sock Lady’s Heel Toe Do-Si-Do pattern, marking each 12-row repeat. I’m on the final repeat now — foot nearly done, toe up next.
This yarn was supposed to be Christmas red, but it came out more pink-with-a-dash-of-green than holiday festive. You know how it goes… sometimes the dye pot has other plans.
So what do we do when things don’t turn out the way we pictured?
Do we fuss? Do we stomp our feet? Or do we pick up the needles and make something lovely anyway?
These socks not be Christmas socks — but the ones on my feet definitely are. My West Yorkshire Spinners Grinch Socks, knit last year, still make me grin. Warm, cozy, a little mischievous — everything December should be.
Grandsons, Slippers, and the Joy of Making
I also found out today that both my grandsons want slippers. One is a Kobe Bryant superfan — all basketball, all the time. The other is a Buffalo Bills devotee — blue and red.
So guess who’s knitting slippers? Granny is. I can make a pair in a day or two once I get these socks off the needles. And honestly? I love that they asked. There’s something special about knitters being capable of wrapping love around the feet of the ones they adore.
Advent, Expectations, and Embracing the Slow
We’re ten days into Advent now — nearly halfway — and I wonder if you’re feeling the tug too. The rush to “get there.” The impatience for the holiday to arrive already. Or maybe the wish for everything to slow down just a little.
But wishing won’t change the calendar. Christmas will come, and Christmas will go. The solstice will arrive — the longest night — and winter will settle itself in.
So what if… just for a moment… we leaned into the slowness?
What if we allowed ourselves to prepare gently, instead of scrambling for perfection?
What if the blessing is actually hidden inside the quiet?
These are big questions, I know. But maybe you’re feeling them too — the pressure of family, gifts, budgets, expectations. The worry that you won’t get it all done.
Let me offer you this little truth:
It is not necessary to run yourself ragged. It is not necessary to give beyond your limits. What is necessary is love — for your neighbour, for your family, and for yourself.
Smile at someone today. Give yourself grace. Let the cookies stay unbaked if that’s what your body needs. Let the gifts be simple. Let the joy be quiet.
Tonight I thought about filming a behind-the-scenes video for DollCanCreate and my 100 Mile Journey. Instead, I’m here with you — in the quiet. I’m grateful for warmth, for family, and for friends. I appreciate the little electric fireplace humming beside me. I’m thankful for the simple gift of being able to turn on the oven and make supper.
A Question for You, My Friend
On this 10th day of Vlogmas:
What are you doing for yourself? What can you let go of? And what might you gently pick up to bring joy into your life?
Hold those questions close as you settle into the evening.
And remember:
You are special. You are blessed. You are loved.
This is Grannie Doll, living the 100 Mile Life one day at a time. Happy Advent. God bless. Until next time. ✨
So welcome, dear friends. Day Seven of Vlogmas is here. Today I’m settling into my comfy rocking chair. I have that beautiful red wool you may have seen me pull from my basket. I’m working with my Dealgan—well, trying to. (Scottish Spindle) The camera didn’t want to cooperate, and the spindle certainly lived up to its name: drop spindle.
But that’s part of the charm, isn’t it? A bit of laughter, a bit of wool, and a whole lot of grace.
I picked up this spindle years ago at a fiber festival in Almonte, Ontario. I don’t use it often, but every once in a while it calls to me. Something about switching up tools brings a new rhythm to my hands and a freshness to the craft.
Today, I’m spinning a hand-dyed Shetland. I wish I could remember the dyer, but Shetland itself is one of my favourites—soft, lively, and full of character. I wind the leader through the cross at the bottom. Then, I bring it back up to the top. I give it a half-hitch and let the spindle go again.
This is my quiet joy on Day Seven.
Yesterday’s spin was different: a soft Barbie-pink Merino, a little two-ply that turned out beautifully. It will join the other colours in my blanket jar—my slow-growing rainbow of December.
What Are You Spinning? What Are You Creating?
I would love to know. Are you spinning along for Vlogmas? Knitting something soft and comforting? Trying a new craft that keeps your hands and heart grounded?
Leave a comment below and let me know what’s on your needles, hooks, or spindle this week.
Spinning as a Practice of Hope
At church this weekend, I spoke about hope. I reflected on Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones. Those bones rose to life when God breathed upon them.
I keep thinking about how our craft mirrors that story.
Every time we spin a rolag, knit a row, or weave a few inches, we are quietly hoping:
hoping the yarn will be strong,
hoping the project will come together,
hoping we are learning even when we make mistakes,
hoping that the small work of our hands somehow leads to beauty.
Our craft is a form of hope. A hope for the future. A hope that even tired hands can create something meaningful.
And all the while, we sit in our cozy corners. Rocking chairs comfort us, with cats nearby and tea cooling on the side table. We think about the future in gentle, manageable ways.
Because out there, in the world of news headlines and endless commentary, it can feel like everything is coming undone. Some days, it is hard. Grief is real. December can stir up memories we weren’t expecting, or emotions we thought we’d tucked away.
So I return to what grounds me:
“Whatever is true, whatever is lovely, whatever is pure, whatever is of good report…”
These are the things I choose to think on. These are the things we craft toward.
And one of those lovely things is you. Thank you for being here with me.
If You’re Enjoying These Vlogmas Moments…
Please don’t forget to:
Like the video
Subscribe to the channel
Share with a friend who needs a little December calm
I’m aiming for a video every single day for Vlogmas—my goal and my little offering of joy this Advent season.
We’ve just entered Week Two of Advent, and next week we move into Joy. How wonderful is that?
From My Home to Yours
Hi, I’m Granny Doll—also known as Doll from DollCanCreate, living the 100 Mile Life and enjoying every moment I can. I’m creating whether I’m in my rocking chair spinning wool with my kitty beside me. I’m creating while stirring a pot in the kitchen. I’m also creating when I write quietly on my blog. And I believe with all my heart that you can create too.
So tell me:
What are you working on right now?
Are you still deep in holiday gift-making?
Or are you turning toward something just for you? (A little self-care crafting never hurt anyone!)
Let’s talk about what our hands and hearts are connected to this Advent season.
For now, dear ones, this is Granny Doll signing off. I care for you. I’m thinking of you. And I pray God blesses you with peace, comfort, and creativity.
Welcome back, dear friends. It’s Grannie Doll here. I’m settling in with a cup of something warm. I’m living my 100-Mile Life one peaceful, wool-filled moment at a time.
This week, as part of Spindlemas, I found myself drawn back to a question many beginning spinners ask:
“How many kinds of spindles are out there—and how many does a spinner really need?”
Well… pull up a chair. Today I’m opening up my own spindle basket. I will share stories from the past twenty-one years of spinning joy. I will talk about learning curves and the quiet magic of handmade tools.
My First Spindle: Where It All Began
Every maker has that one tool that started it all. Mine is a sturdy little drop spindle from 2004. It is hand-painted and well-loved. The paint is now gently wearing away after decades of use.
When I hold it, I remember those early days—fumbling fingers, lumpy yarn, and that unmistakable spark of Oh! I can make this myself.
That spark has carried me a long way.
Black Spruce and Alaskan Memories
Not long after, my husband Nick carved me a lightweight spindle from Black Spruce in Fairbanks, Alaska.
The bark has thinned over time, the wood mellowed, but it still spins fast and true. I can almost hear the quiet of the Alaskan woods every time the whirl turns.
These tools hold memories as much as they hold wool.
Spindle Exchange Surprises
Some treasures arrive by mail.
Years ago, during a spindle exchange, I received a sweet little hand-painted spindle. It was light as air. It was clearly fashioned from a drawer pull. Creative, whimsical, and full of charm.
Another exchange brought me a brightly colored whorl. It still spins beautifully. It is a little chipped from life, but so am I. Aren’t we all?
And yes… tucked among the collection is a tahkli spindle. It has a metal shaft and bead whorl. It is gorgeous and mysterious. It still whispers, “You’ll learn me someday.”
One day, little spindle. One day.
The Spindles I Reach for Most
Like many spinners, I have favourites that become old friends.
My Ashford Pair
A tiny light Ashford that spins like a dragonfly’s wing.
A larger Ashford that once met the wrong end of a dog’s teeth. A little tape, a lot of forgiveness, and she still spins beautifully.
My Beloved Unknown-Maker Spindle
Purchased somewhere near Owen Sound, this dark wooden beauty is my go-to for plying. The tip is finely crafted, the spin steady and long. She feels like poetry in the hand.
The Celtic Spindle
3D-printed, light, with a triskele design that feels rooted in ancient story. It spins like a dream—modern meets myth.
Moose-Mark Spindles
A pair from the Almonte Fiber Festival, each with a tiny moose on the underside. They’re balanced, strong, and perfect for plying.
My New Support Spindle
A recent adventure. Metal tip, beautifully made, still leaving me humble and hopeful. Support spindle spinning is on my “learn this well” list for 2026.
And then… the Turkish Treasure
This one is pure joy.
Made by Helen—whose motto is “Sawdust is my glitter.” Smooth, elegant, satisfying in the hands, and spinning as gracefully as a leaf falling through still air.
What I Spin With These Tools
A spindle is only half the story. The fiber tells the rest.
Right now in my basket:
A golden BFL dyed with Wilton’s food coloring
A soft pink Merino blend from last Distaff Day
A deep botanical-dyed BFL (onion skins + avocado = magic)
My Shetland mittens—white for one pair, and a beautifully varied Shropshire fiber for another
A cheerful pink hand-dyed skein working its way into a Heel Toe Do-Si-Do sock
And yes, sometimes my colors clash with my shirt. That’s part of the charm.
Where Wheel and Spindle Meet
You already know I spin my sweater yarn on the wheel. But what about the mittens, scarves, hats, and the bits that feel more intimate and slow? Those come from the spindle.
There’s something grounding about holding a tool that fits in the palm of your hand. You feel the twist travel through your fingers. You realize you are the engine.
Slow, steady, soulful.
A Peek Behind the Scenes
If you’ve watched my Spindlemas videos, you’ve probably seen:
The lavender vase beside my spindles
The Folgers tub blocking the cat from pressing random printer buttons
My plastic bowl full of tools—scissors, needles, bits and bobs every crafter keeps nearby
This is real life, Grannie-Core at its finest: cozy, functional, imperfect, and full of love.
A Question for You
What is your favourite sheep breed to spin or knit with? Mine, so far, is Shetland—lofty, springy, forgiving, and perfect for the slow-living rhythm I crave.
Tell me yours in the comments so we can start a lively woolly conversation.
A Closing Thought for Advent
Whether you’re celebrating Christmas, lighting Advent candles, or simply leaning into the hush of winter…
Let’s prepare our hearts for a world that is gentler, kinder, more hopeful.
Handwork teaches us that small things—twists of fiber, quiet moments, patient stitches—add up to something much bigger than we imagined.
From my home to yours, this is Grannie Doll living the 100-Mile Life.
Like, subscribe, share if this warmed your heart—and remember:
There’s something quietly revolutionary about knitting with yarn that hasn’t traveled farther than you have. So much arrives by truck, plane, or cargo ship. In contrast, the idea of local wool feels like an act of stewardship. It is grown, shorn, spun, and dyed within a hundred miles. It connects our hands to our land.
The Story Behind Local Wool
When I began exploring the 100 Mile Life, I thought mostly about food. Local apples, farm-fresh eggs, and bread from the mill down the road were on my mind. But soon, I found myself tracing another thread—wool. Where did the yarn in my basket come from? Whose sheep had offered their fleece? Was there a mill close enough to spin it into something beautiful?
The answers were closer than I imagined. A small flock of Shetlands grazing in the next township. A local mill humming beside the river. A dyer who uses plants gathered from her own garden. Each step, within that hundred-mile circle, felt like re-discovering the rhythms of home.
Spinning for Socks: From Fleece to Footwear
This season, I’ve been spinning with socks in mind—turning local fleece into sturdy, beautiful yarn that can handle daily wear. There’s a deep satisfaction in transforming raw fiber into something so practical and personal. Each draft of the spindle feels like a prayer, each twist a meditation on patience and purpose.
Sock yarn needs just the right balance of softness and strength. A little Shetland or BFL for durability, a touch of Merino or alpaca for comfort. When you’ve spun and plied the wool yourself, you know its story. You know what farm it came from and which sheep. You also understand how the fiber behaved in your hands. It gives new meaning to “putting your best foot forward.”
Knitting Socks that Stay Close to Home
Knitting socks from local wool is a small act of grace. Each stitch carries warmth from the land beneath your feet, quite literally grounding you in your community. Handspun yarn adds a touch of unpredictability. Those subtle color shifts and texture changes remind me that perfection isn’t the goal. Connection is.
There’s joy in knowing that every step I take in these socks is supported by a circle of care. The shepherd, spinner, knitter, and home soil are all woven together. It’s slow fashion at its most intimate, and every pair becomes a quiet testimony to place, patience, and provision.
Why It Matters
When we knit with local wool, we’re not just making socks or shawls—we’re investing in our neighbors. Every skein carries the story of a shepherd, a spinner, a maker who lives nearby. It reduces transport costs, supports small farms, and encourages sustainable land use.
And there’s another layer of warmth that comes from knitting local. The texture of local fleece often reflects the land itself—soft and sturdy, windswept and rooted. When I hold a skein from a nearby farm, I can almost hear the echo of the fields. I can also hear the hum of the spinning wheel.
Living the 100 Mile Way
Living local isn’t about restriction—it’s about relationship. It means knowing the hands that feed and clothe us. It means buying less, but cherishing more. It’s walking into a farm store and greeting people by name. It’s mending a sweater instead of replacing it.
This autumn, as the nights grow cooler, I’m wrapping myself in that slow, local warmth. My projects for October are built from within that 100 mile circle—simple knits with a story in every stitch.
How to Start Your Own Local Wool Journey
Map your fiber circle. Search for farms, mills, and fiber festivals within 100 miles.
Visit and listen. Talk to shepherds and small producers—they love sharing their process.
Start small. Buy one skein from a local farm and use it in your next project.
Share the story. When someone compliments your hat or shawl, tell them where it came from.
Every local project begins with one conscious choice.
Reflection & Faith
“She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands.” — Proverbs 31:13
When we live and create within our local circle, we echo a sacred rhythm of gratitude and provision. The earth gives; we receive; and through our craft, we give back beauty.
Now it’s your turn:
What’s growing or grazing within your 100 mile circle? Could your next skein—or your next pair of cozy socks—come from a nearby farm or mill? I’d love to hear about your discoveries. You can share your local wool stories in the comments. Tag me with #100MileWool on Instagram.
There’s something about August that invites a slower pace. Maybe it’s the heat, or the way the golden light lingers just a little longer in the evenings. Or maybe it’s the feeling that summer is quietly slipping through our fingers. Whatever the reason, I find myself drawn to the rocking chair more often these days. I sit with a spindle and knitting needles in hand. My heart is full of reflection.
Wrapping Up Tour de Fleece
As Tour de Fleece came to a close, I finished my final skeins. I felt both a sense of satisfaction and a tinge of sadness. There’s such rhythm in spinning daily — a meditative motion that anchors the day. I loved watching my handspun pile grow, knowing that each yard was crafted with intention.
My last skeins came off the spindle with a deep sense of pride. Some are destined for a vest, others for future projects I haven’t dreamed up yet. But more than the yarn itself, I’m grateful for what the tour gave me: routine, resilience, and connection.
Sock Knitting & Small Joys
Now that the spinning has eased, my knitting projects are taking center stage. The socks on my needles are growing steadily — a simple pattern, yet rich with purpose. Socks are such a humble knitting. They go where I go, stitch by stitch becoming something warm and useful.
Alongside the socks, I’m knitting a cozy hat and a lacy scarf. These feel like comfort knitting — pieces that ask little of me beyond time and attention. And that’s what I need most right now.
What’s Next?
That’s the big question, isn’t it? As I rock and stitch, I’m letting ideas bubble up. Maybe a sweater from my Tour de Fleece yarn. Maybe a mini spin-along. Maybe just more rocking and dreaming. August feels like a bridge between the seasons — the perfect time to listen for what’s next.
Living the 100 Mile Life
Lately, I’ve also been leaning into my 100 Mile Life journey — choosing local wherever I can. It’s food from a nearby farm. It’s wool from a local flock. It’s supporting a maker just down the road. I’m reminded how rich and full life can be when we look close to home.
It’s not always easy, and it’s definitely not perfect. But it feels right. It feels rooted.
So tell me — what’s on your needles or spindle right now? What small joys are anchoring your days? Pull up a chair and let’s chat. 💬🧶
As July draws to a close, I’m looking back with a full heart and yarn-covered hands. Whether you’ve been spinning alongside me for Tour de Fleece 2025 or merely enjoying the long days of summer with a cool drink. You might also be enjoying a quiet stitch. I hope you’ve found your own rhythm. I hope you’ve found your own rhythm. Enjoy this beautiful season.
🌀 Tour de Fleece Reflections: What I Learned
This year’s Tour de Fleece was about consistency and grace. I committed to spinning every day. Some days were spent at full whirl on my wheel. Other days were spent quietly on my spindle in the shade. There were moments of fatigue and others of elation (especially when I measured that surprise 125-meter skein!).
Key takeaways:
Small steps add up. Even a few minutes each day built up to sweater-worthy yardage. (or a vest)
Rest days matter. I embraced the official Tour rest days — and a few bonus ones too!
Joy in the process. Watching fibre transform in my hands still feels like a small miracle.
🧳 Summer Vacation: Rest and Play
July wasn’t just about production — it was also about pause. I walked, beached, puzzled, swam, and sat in my favourite chair with yarn in my lap. I visited museums, picked blueberries, and yes — ate ice cream with loved ones. This is the life I want to keep spinning toward: slow, full of joy, and rooted in beauty.
✨ It’s Not Too Late: How to Join Tour de Fleece Anytime
Have you been watching Tour de Fleece unfold online and thinking, “I wish I’d joined… but I missed the start”?
Here’s the good news: Tour de Fleece isn’t a race. It’s a rhythm. And yes—you can start anytime.
Why Join Late?
Tour de Fleece is about celebrating spinning, building community, and connecting with the joy of fibre. Whether you’re seven days in or seven days out, your spinning still matters. The “rules” are more like suggestions, and the most important one is: just spin.
5 Reasons It’s Not Too Late
There Are No Spinning Police. No one is tracking your start date or yardage.
Your Journey, Your Pace. Maybe this week is when you can spin—life happens.
More Inspiration Now. With Week 1 done, you’ve got loads of spinning posts to draw ideas from.
Mini Goals Are Magic. A single spindle full, a bobbin cleared, or one new technique—that’s plenty.
You Belong. Late or early, you’re part of the community the moment you show up.
☐ Share your spin with the community (if you want to!)
Join the Spin Now
Even if today’s your first spin of the Tour, that counts. It matters. And it’s worth celebrating. So whether you’re picking up your spindle after a break or just discovering the event—you’re in. Welcome!
Let me know what you’re spinning this week in the comments. You can also tag me on Instagram at @dollcan. I want to cheer you on!
