Festival Thoughts

Lately, so much of my time has been wrapped up in festival preparation. Dyeing yarn, blending rolags, building batts, designing labels, ordering stickers, planning the booth layout, adjusting banners, organizing displays, and trying to make all of these scattered little ideas feel cohesive once they exist outside of my studio walls.

Some days I step back and look at everything I’ve created and feel genuinely proud. The colors feel like me. The booth feels like me. Even the tiny details—the tags, the labels, the soft textures, the way the collections sit together—carry pieces of the quiet world I’ve been building over the last year.

And then, almost immediately, the doubt creeps in.

Will there be enough product? Will people understand what hand blended rolags and batts are? Will they connect with naturally dyed yarn beside acid dyed colorways, or will it all feel too scattered? I know how much time and creative energy each piece takes to make, which sometimes makes the uncertainty feel even heavier.

There is also something deeply vulnerable about preparing for a fiber festival. Online, people usually see carefully framed photographs and short glimpses of the process. A booth feels different. It becomes a physical space people can walk into, pause in, and quietly decide whether or not your work speaks to them.

I think that is what feels both exciting and terrifying right now.

Somewhere between the wool, the dye pots, the display mockups, and the late-night label adjustments, I created something that feels beautiful to me. I am proud of it. But there is still this lingering fear that I have somehow built myself a small flooffy bubble filled with wool and color stories that only makes sense from inside my own head.

Maybe that uncertainty is simply part of making things honestly.

For now, I am trying to trust the work, trust the process, and trust that the right people will feel at home in the little world I’ve created.