Speaking of…●6

… close looks around gardens:

A few weeks ago, I went to visit my brother and his family.

In the garden, I finally got to see what had only been described to me over the phone: the playhouse/climbing frame/(sub)tree house H and my brother built from my grandmother’s old loom.

After my grandmother passed away, the poor old loom had been stored in my parent’s garage for more than 15 years, in hope that maybe one of us would magically move into a really big house and take up weaving. After a very long time, my father gave up hope, and started burning pieces of it in the fireplace during winter. I know it saddend him, because my grandmother was a very crafty woman, who cherished her loom a lot.

My godmother the textile teacher thinks its blasphemy, both putting it in the fireplace and building a playhouse out of the remnants. It might. But I hope my grandmother and the loom likes the new life that has been created for it.