Dear darling Baby Wolf Loom,
I am so sorry I have abandoned you. You are tucked in the basement, in a dusty small room, and I left you with an unfinished scarf. It is lovely green wool blend, soft and perfect for fall. But I started it last December. And when I moved, I didn't finish. I meant to. I'm sorry. This is embarrassing, but more than embarrassing, I am so sorry you have been unused, unloved, and hidden. Barely even able to see sun! I promise, oh I do, that I will get you out soon. Finish the scarf, put on a new warp...
Fall always reminds me how much I love weaving on you. I've been seeing so many awesome woven goods on etsy. It gives me a slight pang. I know how to weave. I used to be so proud to call myself a weaver. I used to use you every day. I would display you proudly. Pat you on the way up the stairs, dust off your heddles. I will never forget the joyous process of learning to weave at Rosemary's Fiber Shop in Ames, Iowa. By fiery Rosemary herself. Ah, the days.
But I have not given myself time to be a weaver lately. Why? Oh why? Is "no time" really an excuse??
Weaving connects me to something deeper in myself. The feel of the yarn, threading the loom, the rhythm of throwing the shuttle back and forth.
How much will I talk about NOT creating before I actually do something? Geesh. I think that writing it, for just my eyes to see in public, might help me. We'll see!
Again, Baby Wolf, please forgive me. I will come down and say hello tomorrow. Start my repentance.