"Do black sheep exist?" was the first suggestion Google offered when I had a question about these magnificent animals… which indicates that many people genuinely wonder whether black sheep are real or mythological. Some people take advantage of that: I was once conned into buying a "rare and genuine" black sheepskin online.
When it arrived, I saw the skin at the back was grey, the wool oddly dry, an unnaturally black colour, the delightful smell of sheep completely gone—it had obviously been dyed. When I challenged the seller, he assured me that real black sheep were "one in a million" and that I knew nothing about it! And while it's true that black sheep are much rarer than white ones, I am lucky to see many of both colours where I live in Kilmartin Glen, so I was not so easily conned.
The same thing happened to my friend in the Netherlands, where she was invited to buy a "naturally black" blanket which turned out to be dyed with some awful chemicals that triggered severe allergies. As consumers, I feel it's important to make sure we speak up every time unscrupulous sellers try to take advantage.
Personally, I now make sure I buy my wool products from producers I have a connection with. I prioritise purchases from flocks looked after by people I can trust. The first thing you will hear from honest producers is that the lack of uniformity in the fleeces of black sheep is a wonderful thing, not something to be annihilated with chemical dyes. Let’s buy from those people who can talk to you for hours about how delightful it is that the same flock is a different colour each year.
Because the fleece of the Hebridean Black is not a solid, one-dimensional night-sky black: it is deep, rich, glorious and non-uniform, ranging from peaty browns to charcoal greys to chocolatey caramels, ever-changing according to the land, the light, the flock, the season and the year. This beautiful variety of nature is what makes undyed wool so satisfying and interesting.
Last Summer I completed a very special heirloom throw using Hebridean Black yarn from three different producers based in North and South Uist: Uist Wool, Fergus Granville, and the Hebridean Woolshed. Same breed of sheep, same part of the world, and yet, three very distinctive shades of black/brown. It's always a real joy for me to see these subtle variations from one flock to the next, and I wanted a project that would really make that subtlety sing.
Each of my throw is a unique one-off, the design being inspired by the land where the wool I use was grown. For this throw, I wanted to pay tribute to the rich colour of the yarn as well as its provenance, so I decided to call it Peat Stack Throw. Made of countless squares, each of a unique design, the Peat Stack Throw was fully improvised in a seamless connection to the beautiful Uists and my memories of their peat stacks.
Peat stacking is a time-honoured tradition involving the whole community. The structure of the peat stack is striking and reassuring, it guarantees a warm winter around the cosy glow of the beautifully scented peat fire—a smell so unique and so beloved that it is sold as incense to tourists.
Being made of gorgeously warm yarn, my own Peat Stack will last for many years, and has the same comforting and warming effect as those peat fires which are so evocative of the Outer Hebrides. It was grown on a land rich in peat, surrounded and delineated by the waves of the Ocean and masses of graceful, dark brown seaweed. The design of each square pays tribute to those waves, to ripples on soft sands and graceful lines of seaweed, as well as the cracks which characteristically appear when peat dries, a testimony to the countless layers of organic matter that slowly accumulate to form the rich, dense material.
I sleep under my Peat Stack Throw every night and spend many hours simply resting with it, and it's one of the most beautiful and comforting blankets I own. While its generous weight is reassuring and gloriously warm, it also smells divine, reminding me of the characterful Hebridean sheep, the machair, the peat fire... It is its own self-contained little world, infinitely entertaining to look at, deeply soothing to the touch. As someone who has to spend rather more time in bed than I would like, I am very touched and pleased to do it with this little piece of the Scottish Hebrides: three Hebridean flocks keeping me warm.
