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A Ball of Yarn: A Meditation on Place

It is Friday night and I’m sitting at home alone, rolling balls of hand-dyed yarn. For just a moment, I step beyond myself and consider the scene, as if I was outside looking through the windows. The living room with its large, wool tufted rug is softly lit by a single bronze table lamp with an

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The Work That Endures: In Praise of Artisans

In the early morning of dawn, I’m sitting with my tea. Seated by the window, I hear the birds outside begin to twitter but the house is still silent, the dogs tucked under their blanket and curled up asleep on the sofa. In my usual style I am welcoming the new day quietly with a

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