Susan LaffertyBackroads. On the way to somewhere.
And we pass narrow paths disappearing into the woods. Trees tall and leafy obscure our view of where they’re going.
Deeper in.
Then, one day we take a path. Into a national forest.
Fog hugs the ground as it flows. From the Pacific Ocean. Over mountains.
Into Marin County.
The year we live there, I anticipate this view. Each morning. As I drive the kids to school.
Spectacular beauty.
Colorful skeins of thread surround him. And neutral strings on the loom show no pattern to follow. As far as I can see.
But the old carpet maker knows.
Thread by thread. Hour by hour. Day by day.
He works the loom, creating a rich pattern. A map of threads he already had in mind when he started.
