I had so looked forward to going to the Kentucky Wool Festival. And as with most things, I had an an idea of what I thought it would be. I knew I’d be with good company. I knew there would be fiber involved. I knew it would prove to be a fun roadtrip. I hadn’t anticipated the gorgeous weather. I hadn’t expected that a four-hour one-way drive would provide such lush, colorful and beautiful scenery. And I certainly hadn’t fathomed the size of the festival.
We had a game plan and stuck to it a bit, with a few hiccups. We left early, well before the sun was up and made our way to Frankfort, Kentucky to visit the Woolery. The idea was that I’d have an opportunity to try out a few spinning wheels and perhaps get a handle on what I’d purchase if/when I did. Frankfort is our capitol and a beautiful town nestled between rivers and knobs. A parade in progress made for an interesting venture getting to the downtown shop, but once there, it was well worth it. I spun. I chatted. I asked lots of questions. And I also picked up some yarn, some roving and even some wool wash.
Next up we made our way to Falmouth. We’ve learned that there is no quick or easy way there, so sit back, enjoy the ride, drift through counties and towns you’ve never heard of. Gorgeous. Literally incredible views around each and every curve.
We arrived at the festival and were dumbfounded as we saw the traffic leading in and the lot after lot of cars and the number of tents. It was situated in a valley, next to a sweet little stream. . . and was packed. We were directed to remote parking where we caught a bus back into the festival. I can’t decide which delighted me most: the setting or the food. Honestly, anything and everything you could ever want. We ventured through the wool tent, talked to a “shepherd” and perused her wares a bit, visiting other booths before deciding on some sustenance in the form of all sorts of things that weren’t good for us. Eventually we found a seat in the shade, watched as people trotted by carrying musical instruments, finds from one of the many arts and crafts tents and children carrying ice cream cones. Revived we made our purchases from the wool tent, I snagged a handmade wooden basket and we made our way to catch the bus. Back in the car and home we went, round and round the knobs, riding along the ridge, treated to even more incredible views before making our way to the interstate and home.
We were tired. I got some sun. And I want to do it all over again.