And will you never cut the cloth
Or drink the light to be?
Two things wind themselves together. A voice, Sandy Denny’s, singing “Farewell, Farewell”, written by Richard Thompson, and the notion of thread. I was listening, even crying a little, as I sorted through a container of spools. I was looking for the right colour for something I’m making, it being the time of year for gifts. And I thought, how many miles of thread have I cut in my life, how many tiny eyes have I threaded with the white lengths, the red, the sturdy hand-quilting cottons? If I traveled the distance of those lengths, where would I be? Who would I be? I chose the pale blue thread and a small sharp needle and put another log on the fire.
Farewell, farewell to you who would hear
You lonely travelers all
The cold north wind will blow again
The winding road does call