Day 77: Roughly forty-five years ago, my husband gave me a gift which caused my face to fall and my eyebrows to raise, bewildered at the logic of his selection. I mean, what earthly purpose could one person have for a five-pound cone of string, described on its label as being something to the tune of ten miles...MILES!...in length. Here, almost half a century later, I have come to regard this most unusual of presents as one of the most useful I have ever received. I've whittled it down to just over a pound, bits of it going to tie plants to stakes, serve as stitch markers in my knitting, truss a turkey, hang pictures, bind parcels, secure the Christmas tree against attacks by parrots and cats, lay out planting lines in the garden, bundle herbs and lavender for drying...the list goes on and on. It has even doubled for carpet warp in weaving. Not a time goes by when I snip off a few inches that I don't think, "I'm going to run myself out of string some day" with a silent nod of thanks to Bruce's thoughtfulness. Its utility has even surpassed that of a box of sewing thread he once gave me, approximately 100 spools of every colour sold except pink shades. For decades, I never bought a spool of thread, confident that I had something to match any fabric I might purchase. The thread is gone now, as is Bruce, but a pound of string remains. Which of us will outlast the other?
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