I have, unfortunately, a grievous confession to make. St. Patrick was not, in fact, Irish. Eeee! He did, though, to be very fair, spend a great deal of time in Ireland and is considered one of Ireland's patron saints because of his charitable work, and not necessarily for his descent. 

I have, equally unfortunately, another grievous confession: our celtic spindle is not actually celtic. Eeee! ​

Yes, we do use our own spinning wheels. No, they don't endow you with supernatural powers. You might not be able to punch through walls or survive solely on the energy of the universe. Our deepest apologies. (Unless, of course, you count spinning as a superpower. Then you're fine.) However, you ought to be able to spin decent thread and yarn at home. Like so. 

Ta da. Doesn't it just scream Robin Hood or Ireland or something? I would say it screams steamy jungle, but I don't know how well wool works in warmer climates; most cultures from arid/steamy areas seem to favor linen, instead. I'm going mostly from the Egyptians and Minoans, so I might be wrong. Anyway!

Joseph here is spinning a worsted thread that we hope to use later for weaving or for very fine knitting. The terms worsted and woolen are sometimes used to refer to different weights of yarn. However, combed wool produces worsted yarn and carded wool produces woolen yarn. (Go ahead. You can read that twice. No shame.)

Woolen yarn is fluffy and poofs up a little bit even when spun. That traps more air, which makes it more fluffy and insulating. Worsted yarn, by contrast, is dense enough to be called "hard," and tends to be stronger. I mean, on the diamond scale worsted is definitely softer than a rock you'd pull out of the ground, but it's also significantly less than a luxuriously fluffy cloud. 

You might see the difference more apparently in a wool sweater, made with woolen yarn, and a wool suit coat, made with worsted. Sweater=soft and fluffy. Suit coat=hard and tight. 

Thus, to return! Joseph is spinning a worsted yarn, which means he'd like to use it in weaving. If he doesn't get around to it in time, however, I might just kife it and teach myself how to knit a pair of emerald green socks.