COOK — In a corner of the multipurpose shop at Cook’s Country Connection, the hum of conversation blended with the rhythmic whisper of spinning wheels as three women twisted fiber into yarn by hand, by habit, and by heart.
The farm, known in part for its friendly alpacas and hands-on charm, marked National Alpaca Farm Visit Day on Saturday with its annual “Barn to Yarn” celebration. While the alpacas drew the usual oohs and aahs from children and parents, it was the trio of local fiber artists who drew curious onlookers into the quiet magic of transformation. Fleece became thread, and stories became community.
Among those leading the demonstrations was Cindy Sandberg. She smiled as a child looked on while she worked her wheel, the same one she fell in love with after test-driving two dozen at a festival.
“I just saw some women spinning at a craft sale, and it intrigued me,” Sandberg said. “Years later, I figured it was time to learn, and a girlfriend said, ‘Well, you can take my spinning wheel. I’ll teach you how to spin.’ So she did. And then she said, ‘Call me when you fill up the bobbin.’”
From that point forward, she was hooked. She filled one bobbin, then another, discovering a soothing rhythm in the work. The wheel she eventually chose became, as she described it, “an investment into my future, because this will be my way to relax.”
Next to her sat Lori Scott, focused and thoughtful. Her own spinning history was rooted in a long-held dream.
“I wanted to knit a sweater from scratch. I wanted to raise, shape, and knit a sweater,” Scott said.
That vision set her on a path toward raising sheep and alpacas, learned to shear, process, and spin the fiber, and finally cast on the first rows of her dream garment.
“That goal has taken me decades,” she said with a chuckle. “I have half a sweater knitted.”
Across from them, working with a drop spindle, was Nickole Dahl, who found her way into spinning by way of books, podcasts, and a timely Mother’s Day gift.
“Spinning’s nice because I used to be a perfectionist, but this is a habit I picked up after kids, and I had that perfectionist streak kind of broken out of me by then, so I can just relax,” Dahl said.
She had first seen a drop spindle in third grade during a classroom visit from a farmer. It wasn’t demonstrated, just held up and tucked away, but it left her with a question that lingered for years: How does it work?
When her children were young, Dahl stopped reading for pleasure and turned to podcasts instead. One hosted by a yarn company owner rekindled her curiosity about spinning.
She casually told her husband that someday she might like to try it.
He bought her a spindle and some wool.
And like that, someday became now.
While Dahl prefers the portability and pace of the drop spindle, as well as the quality she gets from using it – “my spindle yarn is better,” she said – all three women had deep opinions about the fibers themselves, especially alpaca.
“Alpaca fiber tends to grow with use,” Sandberg said. “So you start out with a size large, and after a year or two of wear, it’s an extra-large. So blending with a wool, theoretically, the wool should be able to help keep its shape.”
Scott, holding up a section of her work, laughed.
“This is my alpaca. It’s really nice, but it’s bulky,” she said. “But I’m a bulky spinner.”
Sandberg nodded and offered up a ball of yarn she had made from yak, sourced directly from the animals at the farm, and silk.
“This is from the yaks here from their spring shed,” she said. “I had it blended with silk, and it made a bunch of balls of yarn. And this white is super soft.”
Visitors took turns touching the yarn, their eyes widening at the texture. It was smooth, soft, and surprisingly light. The three women passed samples around, each one spun from a different animal or process, each with its own character.
For Dahl, a supply of fiber has a way of finding her.
“When people find out you’re a spinner, it’s kind of like when people find out you’re a knitter, they throw yarn at you,” she said. “I found the same is true if you’re a spinner, people throw wool at you.”
Not all of it is top-grade or clean, she admitted, but even that has its place. Raw fleece waits for a second life. Processing fiber takes time.
So does life. And spinning, for all three women, is threaded through everything else they do.
“We can’t knit fast enough compared to all the fiber ready to go,” Sandberg said with a laugh.
Still, they keep spinning. Some days it is a solitary pursuit. Other times it is shared in public spaces, like this one, where a farm shop was filled with laughter, curiosity, and quiet admiration.
“It is fun. It is cool,” Sandberg said.