Sometimes you find something that takes you straight back.

On a recent visit to my childhood home, I came across some of Mum’s old records of her work with wool. Pages of notes about plants, dyes and beautiful colours. Looking through them, I was back in the hills around Glenlivet, walking with Mum, Dad and my brothers, collecting sheep’s wool.

Mum always had a flask of tea, Walker’s fruit cake and plenty of bags to fill with wool, plants and blueberries. There was always something to gather and bring home.

Then came the process of turning that wool into something quite different. Cleaning, carding, dyeing and spinning. As a child, I don’t think I understood how much patience and skill went into it. It was simply something Mum did, and we were part of it.

I remember the smells as much as anything. The lanolin in the wool, the plants and natural dyes, smoke from the fire and the rather less lovely smell of ammonia. Mum used a huge cast-iron cauldron over an open fire to soak, heat and dye the wool. It was quite something. Looking back, there was a little bit of magic in seeing what came out of it.

Finding her records all these years later has made me appreciate just how much knowledge was held in those pages. All that gathering, experimenting, trying again and carefully recording what worked. An understanding of the things growing around us, and of what could be made with them.

It has also given us the beginnings of something new at the learning centre.

Over a few weekends, to start with, we’ll be exploring wool in its many wonderful forms. There will be practical skills to learn, colours to experiment with and time to enjoy making something with our hands. I’m really excited to see where it takes us.

There is something lovely about the thought that those childhood days in the hills, and the notes Mum took the time to keep, might help someone else discover something they love. Perhaps they’ll try a skill for the first time, remember something they once learned, or go home with an idea they want to share with their own children.

These skills still have so much to offer. When we share them, we give them a chance to become part of someone else’s life, and to carry on in ways we might never have imagined.

That feels very much part of what we’re trying to do at Lairg & District Learning Centre. Making room for people to learn, to share what they know and to see where their curiosity takes them.

Every year, we seem to grow a little more. We listen to what people would like to try, develop ideas, apply for grants and, thankfully, receive support that helps us bring those ideas to life. Sometimes the inspiration comes from a conversation in the centre. Sometimes it comes from a few old pages found back at home.

We thought it was time to share a little more of this with you, so every few weeks we’ll be posting an update here on our website: news, workshops, plans and some of the stories behind them.

For now, I’m looking forward to seeing what grows from Mum’s notes. It means a great deal to think that something so much a part of my childhood could help create happy memories for someone else.

Although I suspect we’ll leave the ammonia out of this bit, or do we? need to go to a workshop.

Sarah Forrest