It's a thing of the past. No-one does anymore. But in days gone by, when things were precious, a little time and effort spent with needle and wool could breathe new life into a cherished garment.
Picture the needle carefully dipping in and out around the edges of that hole in the garment. Hunting through the workbasket, searching out odd strands of thread once put aside unthinkingly when first the garment was made. With great patience one thread woven over and under another, anchoring itself to the jagged edges and back again until a fine web is created and covers the gaping hole. And onto this frame are woven sturdier threads that go deeper into the edges to make them stronger. And, if you managed to find enough thread and worked on steadily,weaving with care and skill, then miraculously the garment became whole again and almost as good as before.
I am the needle; the garment is my life; the hole the death of my husband.
The threads are the friends who helped me close up that hole and again make my life whole and almost as good as before.
