I’ve been practicing lots of tangle patterns and designs – a whole sketchbook’s worth. I keep reminding myself all craft is a work in progress, taking years to become ‘polished’.
The following two, begun earlier this fall, remind me of an old Navajo blanket (rug?) my parents had when I was a child. I remember it lying on a shelf in a closet in our upstairs bathroom. The closet was big enough to walk into with rudimentary, dark wood shelves and a tiny dust-covered upper window that let in filtered light.
The closet was a place of great intrigue – sheltering artifacts I wanted to explore but knew I probably shouldn’t.
Or so I imagined.
You know – the way places loom larger than life or things promise a secret delight for a curious child.
I don’t know where the blanket came from, what we used it for, or if anyone else in my family remembers it. I think it had a diamond and rectangle pattern with earth tones – muted reds, yellows, tan and black.
It was scratchy to the touch.
Was it a real Navajo blanket?
Did we store it in the closet as I remember or did it lie on the floor in the back entry?
Do we even want to learn the truth behind every childhood ‘awe’?