As I wrote yesterday, we had one more stop planned after our delicious lunch at Tea & Cake: the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum!

It certainly doesn’t take much convincing for Kathleen and I to visit a museum: after all, we did meet at Carleton during a Masters’ program in history, where, as TAs, we shared an office. As much as our career trajectories did not land us in the field, we continue to appreciate history and almost always make sure to visit the museum(s), wherever we may visit.

The museum is located in an old woolen mill on another island just adjacent to the downtown, so we had a nice short walk to get there. We really enjoyed the facility and our visit to the gift shop made sure that Kathleen was able to purchase a darning mushroom.

Kathleen described our visit better than I have!

Bellies full, it was time for the final stop of the day. I have been hearing about the Mississippi Valley Textile Museum for years from my therapist. She is friends with the curator and has visited the museum many times, and knew that I would love it. She was absolutely right. They had a temporary exhibit showcasing several new acquisitions from a large, private collection of hand-woven coverlets from across the country. The textiles were incredible, and Charlotte and I were both captivated by the gorgeous colour combinations.

Upstairs was the permanent exhibit, which walks through the history of the wool industry in Almonte, as well as the step-by-step process of manufacturing wool, from raw fibre to dyed skeins of wool ready for sale. The exhibit was thoughtful and interactive, with many of the machines displayed with “in-progress” work that allowed you to see what the machines could do. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me (even more) interested in learning how to weave.

By the time we finished, it was just past 3 pm, which at this time of year meant that it was getting darker. With nothing else on our list, it returned to our rental car and made our way home. It was time to get ourselves home and cozy to watch a Christmas movie under the blankets.

(And feed Charles, who let his displeasure be known to us for feeding him nearly an hour-and-a-half late.)

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