Nothing but rain, so let's think silk

We're in the middle of an endless drenching windy storm, so I was happy to have interesting material in the inbox today. 

Like a good student, I give my source so you can follow up if you want to. It's about textiles, particularly silk, that almost mystical thread, strong, fine, beautiful, warm, cool, takes dyes, and is almost indestructible.

Here's something that intrigues historians, weavers, and miniature makers, a threefer

Chinese knowledge was so far ahead of Western thought, it makes me stop dead every time I come across something like this.

And this early fabric store

I can see some blogistas peering eagerly at these stacks to pick out their quilting fat quarters!

And this one really has my heart

In giant stone form, this is the singles thread I spin with my spindle. I feel commemorated! 

So that's my joy for today. I think I'll do a bit of spinning to celebrate. The wet weather is certainly good for spinning natural fibers. In Northern England, the damp climate was very helpful to the spinning of cotton, thread didn't snap. 

Alas cotton has a  terrible history, from the slavery of growing it on the plantations of the American South and the Dutch colonies, to the dark satanic mills of Northern England, quoting Blake,  where little children worked long days and their elders died young from exhaustion and  the brown lung disease resulting from inhaling cotton fibers. 

We can't celebrate fibers without acknowledging the abuses. But we can protect today's workers, and ourselves if we engage in textile work. And we can refuse fast fashion which now traps textile workers in Asia in long days of dangerous, badly paid work. We can push for better regulation and  worker protection. Closer to home,  when we make for ourselves, buy our raw materials from indie producers,  and make an art of visible mending, we're making a political statement.  

This simple wonderment about silk then cotton, quickly became a soapbox! But this thinking, thanks to my enlightened working class parents, really does underpin my life. 

Art and power, despite the denials  of the society I grew up in and escaped, absolutely are for the likes of me! And the history teacher who told me a foundry worker's daughter, me, had no business taking the national exams, because they were for future leaders, has long been proved mistaken. 

Onward, and happy day,  everyone, breathe, I'll try to, while I fight the good fight with my trusty spindle! Yes, I do laugh at myself, too, getting all worked up when nobody's disagreeing with me.