The Old Weaver Woman and the Silver Thread

LauraLuna Studio

We approach the open door of the old stone grist mill. A light breeze dances through the grass and across my skin, and the wooden waterwheel slowly turns with the lazy current of the cool black water, ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk. Three generations of women walk over the threshold; grandmother, mother, and daughter, past, present, and future, out to explore and listening for stories.

Once my eyes adjust to the darkness of the spacious room, I see a little old woman weaving on a huge wooden loom. She’s not quite a fairy tale old woman – who I imagine would have gray, waist length hair, colorful skirts, and bright knowing eyes – but rather a typical sweet grandmotherly lady with short white curly hair, a pink shirt with white shorts, and tennis shoes. I quietly examine the woman and her loom, half hoping she will invite me to sit on…

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