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When I sit down at my loom, my head and my heart align. Thoughtfully, I gather yarn and set my warp in place. Before throwing the shuttle, I acknowledge the unknown. The shed opens, and time does not exist, only my senses. I feel the wooden loom and shuttle under my feet and in my hands. Holding each strand of wool on the selvage before moving to the next row gives me the sense that everything is in its place, including myself. I am lost in the balance and movement of weaving. With love and simplicity these gestures replenish me. I weave one-of-a-kind pieces with the yarns I have made from local wool. Their stories are my stories, and are shared here with each work of art offered. 

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