It all started so innocently, as most of them usually do, though this one was unusual, because it involved my often less-than-innocent Scottish ancestors.
I needed a four-letter crossword solution for ‘sea’, starting with M. Five minutes later, working sideways, I had ‘mere’? 😕 Quick Archon, to the dictionary. I soon found that the Scots, through a mouthful of oatmeal porridge, had turned the French word ‘mer’ into ‘mere.’
Through my Scottish heritage, I knew that there was a small Southern-Ontario town named Combermere, and one back in the UK. The word ‘comber’ has two pronunciations. There is the usual English Coe-mrr, which is a person or device which combs. Also, a large, long wave, which can strip (comb) things off a beach as it crashes ashore, is a comber. Then there is the Scottish Comm-Brrr, which is used for personal and place names. I once heard two women refer to a man, whose name of Comber they’d read but not heard, as Coe-mrr. As a Scot, I knew better. What did those old kilt-wearers mean when they put those two words together?
I quickly learned that the mere was no vast sea. It was merely a wee mountain lake – a tarn. The ground around it was too rocky for agriculture, so sheep were raised. However pronounced, the word comber had the same meaning. Once the sheep were sheared, and before the wool was spun to thread and woven into bright Tartans, it was combed (carded), whether by hand, like the hand-carders above, from my Gadgets post, or with a hand-cranked, mechanical device.
The shearing of hundreds of sheep produces a lot of fleece. While the men were busy tending to the now-nude creatures, the women combed, and combed, and combed. Combermere became the name for a pastoral little village which grew up at the lower edge of a Scottish lake, renowned for its yarn and woven cloth.
Don’t look for it there now. Time, and society, and politics changed over the centuries. All that’s left is the Combermere Abbey, in England, near the northern border of Wales. It was named for an Earl of Combermere, which title was given to an Englishman, after James VI of Scotland became James I of England.
If you’re interested in some hand-carded fleece, or hand-spun yarn, or hand-knitted or crocheted apparel, join the daughter, Ladyryl, at her blog, or at http://www.facebook.com/frogpondcollective. She’ll show you how it was done in the Goode Olde Dayes.
I never knew. Thanks for that
LikeLike
Useless knowledge is always available in wholesale lots on this site. Glad you enjoyed it though. 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
My Scottish roots approve of this post.
Sláinte!
LikeLike
My Scottish roots need touching-up. Some kids in the Bible were mauled by bears because they made fun of a prophet, and called him ‘baldy.” The kids in my neighborhood call me ‘snowball-head.’ Being in Canada, one of my followers confused me with Santa Claus. Of course, it’s easy to confuse me. 😉 😎
LikeLiked by 1 person
Snowball head!
A term of endearment I’m sure…
😉
LikeLike
Interesting etymology. The processing of hair and fiber into cloth has to be one of the oldest and most useful technologies in human history. I still recall reading Silas Marner for a high school English class. Silas was one of many independent weavers in his er. It was a cottage industry. If you think about it, it is quite remarkable what is done to make clothes.
LikeLike
Especially with the daughter, I’ve seen it all up close. About the only thing she doesn’t do is shear. She hand-, and machine-cards, makes rovings – which get spun. She spins all sorts of stuff – dog fur, silk, bamboo, milkweed silk, llama. She has two different spinning-wheels, and drop-spindles. She and the wife knit and crochet. The wife tats (makes lace)
The daughter has a small hand loom, although I’ve never seen her using it. Her friend owns a small coffee plantation in Ecuador. She flies down for two weeks, twice a year, and brings back coffee, and local crafts. They include throw-blankets(?), 42″ X 64″. They are made on hand-looms, so the pattern/grain runs back-and-forth, from 90% alpaca wool, and just enough acrylic to hold them together. They’re light as a Kleenex, but warm as toast. I put one over my feet and legs when I have an afternoon nap. One cat inevitably joins me. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person