Day 288: As I am delving into the deep recesses of my crafts cupboards for things to do during my self-imposed pandemic isolation, a few unfinished projects are surfacing. I had barely begun this one when I tucked it away, and thereby hangs a tale. For ten years or so, I had an arrangement with a woman who ran a Scandinavian gift and needlework shop to provide her with sample pieces she could display as enticement for customers looking to start their own projects. The terms of our agreement were that in exchange for free supplies and pattern books, my finished works would hang on the walls of her shop for six months. I usually left them with her for much longer, often until the particular pattern I had used became unavailable. We frequently sat in the shop together, sometimes stitching and chatting for an entire afternoon. Over the period of our acquaintance, I must have made easily a hundred or more pieces of hardanger, but one day when I arrived at her door, the shop was closed. I thought nothing of it at the time and simply went home to start a new piece from one of the books and fabrics already in my stockpile. Several months passed before I stopped by the shop again, but again, her door was shut. Some time later, I found out that she had passed away. I found it difficult to pick up my work again, reproaching myself for having not made a better attempt to contact her, but I had had no hint that she was ill or failing. I folded the fabric, bagged it with the threads I had chosen from her shelves, and tucked it away to be forgotten until a few days ago. I will complete it now, as a remembrance of her generosity and kindness to me.
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