Tuesday, October 2, 2012
tea steeps under the faded cloak of a cozy that my grandmother pieced together from quilting scraps. when my tea brews beneath this hood it seems to absorb a little of her breath. a little of her spirit. and i sip little memories of her, bits of her story while i sit in the half lit night with the music of wheezing dog.
(the baby quilt pictured is listed in the shop)