This bundle of unspun flax stricks sit in undisturbed condition, tied up just as it would have been more than a century ago, waiting patiently for the spinning wheel. The glossy, straw-colored fibers twist together in soft, rope-like strands, catching the light with a sheen that reminds you flax once rivaled silk for its luster. Before it became linen sheets, shirts, or tablecloths, flax looked exactly like this—raw, earthy, and full of potential. Circa late 19th century.
This bundle of unspun flax stricks sit in undisturbed condition, tied up just as it would have been more than a century ago, waiting patiently for the spinning wheel. The glossy, straw-colored fibers twist together in soft, rope-like strands, catching the light with a sheen that reminds you flax once rivaled silk for its luster. Before it became linen sheets, shirts, or tablecloths, flax looked exactly like this—raw, earthy, and full of potential. Circa late 19th century.