Wool. So different.
So much, shelter from the storm.
I think this might be the first Open Air Ritual for this one. It seems to belong here. But then it has been through many a storm, just being worn. It wraps around and around. No cold gets in.
The thing about wool, well, here is my favorite sweater again. Looks like mending time. The moths here are ravenous. (Maybe I should hang this on a sunny wall instead of in the closet. The scarf has no holes, it lives in the light) The thing about wool though, you can mend it. And it become even more beautiful.
A lot of my old weaving stuff is on a blog I created just for weaving, not published, waiting. On Typepad. Placed there for finding. Stored somewhere else, who knows where. The thing about Typepad, well, it is full of holes. This morning, no images, yesterday no access for me. And in my humble opinion... it cannot be mended in any reliable way. Maybe I should talk. dammit
And so. I have not enabled comments here, you have all been kind enough in your understanding of my situation. I just don't know is all I can say for now. It's cold and I am going out to haul some wood.