The inspiration for this wool shop comes from many people, places and times, but primarily it originates with the grandmothers of my own heritage – the women who sheared the sheep, carded and spun the wool, and who knit tirelessly to clothe and feed their families. They unwound sweaters as their children grew to reinvent their strands into hats, mitts, and socks, and sat together sharing stitchery and support, long before knitting groups were formally organized.

Despite hardship and repression, my Swiss grandmother knitted garments to sell at the local market after everyone had gone to sleep, hoping that her labours would provide her nine children the opportunity of music lessons.

My own mother taught me to knit when I was very young, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Those early frustrations of tight sample squares and dropped stitches, eventually gave way to a life-long love for knitting and the sweet and satisfying alchemy of transforming yarn into woolly creations.

I visit yarn shops wherever I go, and find the sight, smell and texture of wool to be instantly soothing. An old friend. A place by the hearth of life. It invites a reconnection to the simple yet invigorating joy of bringing something beautiful to life with one’s own two hands. And I am certain that somewhere in the silence that lies between the rhythmic clicking of needles, resounds the echo of the grandmothers, their voices singing gentle words of encouragement to anyone who will listen.