Don't Get Madder About It

The slower months of winter, when everyone was staying close in for warmth and there was less to do than other seasons, was the perfect time to catch up on crafts that had been put aside while more major concerns were taken care of. A cheerful fire blazed in the meeting area of the barn, snow removal, light, warmth, and tool all in one. A pair of hefty metal cauldrons steamed over the coals scraped to one side, dye in one and plain water in another. As she waited for the dye to be ready, Corbie quietly sorted through the hanks of pale fleece that Ayer had painstakenly washed, carded, and spun so far that season. The breed of sheep she raised were a naturally colorful lot, but there were enough white and pale colored fleeces to be worth the trouble of dying them. Lamb- and sheepskins too, from the fall culling of the flock, already tanned. These were mostly what was in storage from the year before, since she hadn't yet tanned this year's take. First taking a sip of tea, Corbie glanced over the dye cauldron, judging its readiness.