General

The blanket brings together the colours of springtime daydreams and brings a welcome heat back to my lap.

General

The blanket of soft Welsh yarn, woven in colours that brought coastal grasses to the fore, kept us warm upon many a wintry night.

General

The blanket, as soft and pretty as any woven of wool, was made of recycled plastic bottles.

General

The blanket was art, a creation in vibrant wool, an expression of nana's love. When Nate watched television I could see his emotions by the way he held it, the sensations of pleasure and tension told in how he either held it softly in his hands or else pushed his fingers though the holes, twisting and grasping. When he was happy it was his covering for games of "ghost," or else it was his invisibility shield. Some days, when it rained, it was our indoor picnic blanket. Other times it was his cape when there was superhero work to be done. It was his best toy, his comfort, his woven rainbow and keeper of his memories. And as he grew Nate would once in a while comment that he had thought the blanket was bigger and ask if it had shrunk somehow.

General

The knitted blanket is a glorious expression of my grandmother's soul; it is the colours of her dreams woven in delicate and loving hands. She would sit in that old rocking chair, hands moving, brain at peace, and from those delicate fingers would come the blankets. As a child I saw her as a magician of sorts and we played long games as rainbow-ghosts with her creations.

General

The blanket radiates my own warmth back within and I let my love do the same. I love everyone and everything, yet sometimes I need to keep it inside so I can keep warm enough. I let my fingers feel the strong fabric that is my cocoon for this night and sense my folded wings strengthen.

General

The blanket is woven with a mother's love, the strands the perfect hue of petals that come in the warmer months. And so the blanket is a sort of sunshine in the darkness, those strands holding me as the softest of arms.

General

The blanket that had once kept her baby toes warm in all seasons was neatly folded in her university bags. It had been handmade with such care and love and so was part of the story of her beginnings.