My needles steadily worked last evening as they would any other. My body found retreat in the familiar curve of our warm leather couch and my hands became custodians, weaving the day’s saga into a lovely marriage of silky loops.
I shouldn’t have been so surprised when my eyes beheld the reward that is so conventional of angora: that unconventional glow. A display of elite fibers who are mysteriously chosen and then flung into the open air as if they were tossed with tempest and squalls of fury.
Oh how I love the windswept outcome of this heavenly thread…and don’t even get me started on the tactility of it. I’ll save that for another day.