The temperature has dipped and the air has cleared, with enough chill to warrant blankets. Over my shoulder I pull the quilt made for me by my paternal grandmother, scraps of fabric of unknown provenance stitched together, more practical than lovely. Such a change a day brings. Just last night I slept fitfully in the clammy air, dreaming of an autumn that never seemed to arrive.
Of Quilts and Comfort
03 Tuesday Sep 2013