this year felt a little like this weaving to me. barely heald together threads. i plan to sit by the fire with my hubby on new years eve to take stock of this strange year. it wasn’t a bad year, but i can’t really call it a good year either. it was simply a strange year. i may need to pull on a few of those threads. see if the whole thing tightens up, or falls apart. maybe then i can see some meaning in all those loose threads.
woven willow branches in winter