Maybe it was the way her hair fell across her shoulders, or a look in her eye, or her voice—that voice, so soft, that sweetness, that purr, that caress with her words. Maybe it was her driven walk that pushed me forward to quickly open the door for her.--Garden Girls

While voices are often found in conversations with friends, my new stories are found in fiber.  The softness of alpaca and merino, the shimmer of silk.  Each palette a new story.  My son had a friend who was dieing.  He asked me to create something soft for her to wrap around and keep her warm.  Something earthy he said.  I never knew her.  I think of her however, every time I use these colors.  I think of him and his sensitivity.