Musings From the Mill Floor

I have been blessed with the most wonderful staff. Something about fibre folk and an enthusiastic work ethic – all of us as anxious to see the beautiful transformation from raw fleece to finished product as our customers always are. There are some gorgeous fleeces out there on Vancouver Island!!

One of my hardest working employees has to be Jacquie. She’s been logging enough miles in the mill to make her fitbit easily sing with joy long before quitting time everyday. She has figured out how to make all the equipment work as hard as she does, with a no-nonsense approach and a great sense of humour. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is not to have any concerns whatsoever about how efficient the mill is being run. Thanks Jacquie!

And on that note, please allow me to introduce Jacquie via her own words:

I noticed the blog was not being updated and knowing how busy Tracy is, I thought perhaps I could write some things about working at the mill – my own musings as it were.

To start, I thought I would tell you about some things I can now put on my resume.

First thing: I have become a poop expert.  That’s right. The number of people who bring us fleeces that have poop still attached is far too many.  I grew up on a hobby farm, I have cleaned chicken coops, goats pens, and other assorted poops.  And now I am becoming an expert on sheep poop.

The second thing I can add to my resume is mechanic.  Yep, me, who barely knows the difference between a screwdriver and a wrench, yet here I am working out how to repair a 148-year-old machine.  Now at this point I still don’t understand why wrenches are in 16 of something. 16 of what not a clue? So usually the whole wrench set comes out until something fits.  Some how I am working it out, so ‘mechanic’ added to the resume.

The third thing added to my resume is a brand-new way to swear.  You see Brenda thinks I swear too much, Tracy’s dad says not enough, and I am not sure what Tracy thinks.  I am Jacquiethinking I might start a new trend, using sheep breeds as swear words, (though at this point, the only sheep-swears I use are ‘baby doll’ and ‘silk’).  Why I do will be for another musing, but I will tell you that if you are at the mill and hear me using those two words, then yes that white van setting land speed records with one father, one Irish Wolf hound, fifteen alpacas and a llama jammed in, tied on, and hanging on for dear life because something has gone really wrong at the mill. So, are any of those skills something you thought you would need to work at a fibre mill? Me neither.

Until the next musing,



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