This is the not-so-excellent yarn I spun from Black Hills Woolies Teeswater/Cotswold roving. Not to impugn the fiber, which was a delight, but more the skill of the spinner. (Nobody will be locking me in a tower anytime soon and asking that straw be spun into gold. There's some consolation.)

The color is naturally variegated due to how it was carded. And it's a weetle scratchy. Again, my bad, I should have spun it woolen- not worsted-style.

Still. It's 70 yds of finished yarn. What should I do with it? Discuss, please. 

As you can see, the most attractive element in this photo is the buckeye burl spindle I bought from Gypsy Wools. The roving I'm spinning is a good starter fiber, a nice, not-too-slick Wensley/Lincoln--local, I believe. I'm spinning it as part of my half-hearted participation in Ravelry's Tour de Fleece, running in sync with the Tour de France.

The above has been a treat to spin, but the result I fear is vaguely, hmmm, pubic. Perhaps plying will help.

That I am finally spinning respectable yarn should inspire fireworks.

No doubt the bombs, whistles and sundry explosions rocking our neighborhood this weekend had more to do with the birth of this great country, but one can pretend.

And, to be perfectly truthful, there was a lot more cooking and consuming than yarn production: Homemade cherry-almond granola (the wonderful Carmen's recipe), grilled wild-caught, honey-glazed salmon spiked with Durango Hickory Smoked Sea Salt, wilted kale over grilled polenta, mixed-grain cheddar bisquits (courtesy of the in-house baker), wild rice salad with blue cheese in a white-wine vinaigrette, and to wrap up a long, delicious weekend with cookies-and-cream ice cream from Paleteria Chihuahua. Yo caro hilado!