I drove to a bison farm this morning right after I voted. Cheap fiber — some of it only suited for feltmaking (and hey, I don’t mean that in a bad way at all!), but some which is beautifully soft and just the right thing. That section is soaking in my washer right now. As I sorted clumps out on the deck, our neighbor came outside with his dog:
“Hey! Are you making wigs?”
(I think he’s kidding. Gosh, I hope he’s kidding. He’s a retired policeman, he’s got a sense of humor).
“No — this is bison fur.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
(His eyebrows go up. He’s watched me sort sheep fleece out there before, but this is a whole ‘nother level of weird…)