Oh man has it ever been cold in the shop this week. Part of my shop is unprotected from the elements so I have spent more time that I care to admit to standing in sub zero temperatures trying to coax giant kettles of water to boil. At one point yesterday I looked down at my hands and noticed that my fingers were blue. “Funny that, I thought I was making a batch of crimson… oh fuck!”

So to say I’m exited to move would be an understatement. I have complained here a lot about having to stand in the cold and wet to make rope, but I will miss my tiny garage shop too.

I’ll miss working outside on a summer day wearing nothing but a kilt and an ipod. Pausing to pull fresh radishes and tomatoes from my garden for lunch while my dog lays out in the warm sun.

I’ll miss the smell of hemp in my home. Watching all my rope slut friends walk in the door, take a huge whiff and get that glazed look in their eyes.

I’ll miss knowing that even when in uber crunch times, I can tuck my dearest Tambo in bed, lay next to her and watch her fall asleep, and then rise and head back out to finish my work.