But I love textiles. My mother used to have a tea towel with three purple cats on it. I was probably still in the single digits when I asked her if I could have it when she passed. My mother laughed and told me it probably wouldn't last that long. She's right. I have no idea where that tea towel went. For all I know, we may be using it as a polish rag with those purple kittens long faded away. I'm not too torn up over it. I'm not even a cat person.
But I love textiles. I have a hard time letting go of blankets, throws, and quilts. If my granny crochets a new Afghan, I'm usually there hovering asking if I can take it home. My philosophy is you can never have enough blankets right within reach to bundle up in, especially on icy winter afternoons or breezy summer nights with a bonfire. I want to pepper my home with blankets that the women of my family have created-- made with their own hands, so it is their embrace and hands that warm me.
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