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My Grandmother was an accomplished weaver. Her brother had built her a loom that I remember looking much like this one, a large floor loom. The accompanying post telling of the necessity of storing it reminded me of the fate of my grandmother’s loom. Stored in my uncles barn, it was lost in the fire that consumed the barn.

I still have a rug that my grandmother wove on that contraption, both beautiful and ungainly at the same time. I think of diligence, domesticity, and losses… simultaneously.

won’t have a place for this beautiful thing soon, so it’ll be packed away somewhere – hopefully safe. this loom is over a century old

  blog it