Tyddyn Bryn

September arrives quietly at Tyddyn Bryn.

The mornings have a different feel to them now. There is a coolness in the air when I open the door, the grass is damp beneath my boots and the light seems softer somehow. The hedgerows are beginning to change, the first leaves are turning other than the ones that suffered in the summer drought, and the sheep are looking particularly content as they graze their way through the last of summer.

And, almost overnight, I find myself wanting to knit more! And bake!!

Not that I ever really stop.

But there is something about the arrival of autumn that makes wool feel especially inviting.

The evenings draw in. The fire becomes tempting. A cup of tea becomes an essential knitting accessory. And suddenly the project that has been sitting in the basket since June is calling my name.

For me, September feels like the beginning of the woolly year, not just the usual school year!

From grass to fleece to yarn

One of the things I love most about working with wool is that it doesn’t begin in a factory.

It begins in a field.

Here at Tyddyn Bryn, our sheep are at the heart of everything we do. They graze the land, grow their fleeces and quite literally provide the raw material for the yarn that eventually makes its way onto your needles.

That makes the phrase farm to yarn much more than a marketing term to me.

I know the animals.

I know the land.

I know where the wool has come from.

And I know the journey that wool takes before it becomes a skein.

There is something incredibly satisfying about that.

A sheep spends months growing a fleece. Once shorn, that fleece can be sorted, processed and spun. Eventually it becomes yarn — something that can be wound around your fingers and transformed yet again by a maker.

Sheep → fleece → fibre → yarn → stitches → garment.

What a journey.

Every fleece tells a story

If you’ve ever had the opportunity to handle different breeds of wool, you’ll know that wool is not simply “wool”.

It can be soft, springy, silky, sturdy, rustic, lofty, fine, hairy, smooth or wonderfully characterful.

Different breeds produce different fibres, and that makes choosing yarn such an interesting part of knitting.

A hard-wearing sock yarn needs to behave differently from the yarn you’d choose for a delicate shawl.

A rustic woollen jumper can benefit from a fibre with a little more character.

A cosy hat might need bounce and warmth.

And sometimes you simply fall in love with a colour and worry about the technical details later!

That’s allowed too.

Because knitting should be enjoyable.

The colours of September

One of my favourite things about autumn is the colour palette. I am most certainly an autumn!!

Nature starts putting on a spectacular display without apparently trying.

Mossy greens.

Fallen-leaf browns.

Heather purples.

Blackberry blues.

Bracken golds.

Deep russets.

Misty greys.

The soft cream of sheep’s wool.

And then, occasionally, that unexpected flash of bright colour that catches your eye amongst the muted landscape.

I find myself looking at the countryside differently when I’m dyeing yarn.

A walk isn’t simply a walk.

I’m noticing the colour of the bracken.

The berries on the hedgerow.

The lichen on an old stone wall.

The changing leaves.

The way the evening sunlight catches the grasses.

Those colours inevitably find their way into my work.

Nature is one of my biggest sources of inspiration.

Why wool feels different in autumn

There is a reason wool has been used by humans for thousands of years.

It is beautifully suited to the changing seasons.

Wool can help keep you warm when it’s cold while still being wonderfully breathable. It has resilience, bounce and a natural ability to recover from being worn.

But for me, the appeal goes beyond its practical qualities.

Wool feels comforting.

There is something almost instinctive about wrapping yourself in something knitted when the temperature drops.

A favourite jumper.

A pair of hand-knitted socks.

A shawl pulled around your shoulders.

A hat you’ve made yourself.

These things become part of our everyday rituals.

And because we made them ourselves, they often become the things we reach for again and again.

Autumn is the perfect time to start a big project

September is also the month when knitters start thinking ahead.

Christmas is suddenly on the horizon.

The colder months are coming.

And those ambitious projects that seemed far too warm to contemplate in July suddenly make perfect sense.

Maybe this is the year you knit that jumper.

Maybe you’ve been promising yourself you’d learn colourwork.

Perhaps you’ve always wanted to try brioche.

Maybe you’re ready to tackle cables.

Or perhaps you simply want a straightforward pair of socks that you can knit while watching television.

There is no wrong project.

My advice?

Choose something that makes you want to pick up your needles.

Don’t choose a project because you think you should knit it.

Choose it because you love the yarn.

Or the colour.

Or the pattern.

Or because there’s a technique you’ve been desperate to learn.

The best knitting projects are the ones you genuinely want to make.

And don’t forget the process

We’re often very focused on the finished object.

We want the jumper.

We want the socks.

We want the finished shawl.

But the making itself is just as important.

There is something wonderfully meditative about knitting.

The rhythm of the needles.

The movement of your hands.

The repetition of the stitches.

The gradual growth of the fabric.

Row by row.

Round by round.

It gives your hands something to do while your mind has a chance to slow down.

And perhaps that’s why autumn knitting feels so comforting.

The natural world is slowing down too.

The days shorten.

The plants retreat.

The leaves fall.

The sheep grow their winter coats.

And we can give ourselves permission to slow down alongside them.

Choosing yarn with a story

When you’re choosing yarn for your next project, perhaps ask yourself a few questions.

Where did this wool come from?

Who made it?

What kind of fibre is it?

How far has it travelled?

Will I enjoy wearing the finished item?

And perhaps most importantly:

Does it make me want to knit?

For me, those questions are at the heart of Tyddyn Bryn.

I want the yarn to be beautiful, but I also want it to have a story.

I want you to know that there are sheep behind it.

That there is a landscape behind it.

That there are people working with their hands behind it.

And that when you sit down with your needles, you’re becoming the next part of that story.

A season for making

So, as September arrives, I’m embracing the woolly harvest.

The sheep are doing their bit.

The countryside is providing endless inspiration.

The dye pots are calling.

The yarn is piling up.

And my knitting queue is, inevitably, getting longer.

I’m not complaining.

There are worse problems to have.

So make yourself a cup of tea.

Find a cosy corner.

Choose some beautiful wool.

Cast on something you’ve been dreaming about.

And let autumn unfold one stitch at a time.

Because perhaps the very best thing about wool isn’t simply that it keeps us warm.

Perhaps it’s that it gives us a reason to slow down, make something with our hands and reconnect with where the materials we use actually come from.

And here at Tyddyn Bryn, that story begins with a sheep in a Welsh field.

From our flock to your needles.

That’s the magic of wool.

What are you planning to knit this autumn?

I’d love to hear what is going onto your needles as the season changes.