Scarves and scarves and scarves and scarves

You can find there here.

A sweet dozen of the dozens of scarves. The woman who had these had doubles and triples. It was explained that she was very particular about her appearance. What would she have thought about the way they were all strewn over her wicker lounger, looking like castaways, like an aviatrix had changed about 100 times while piloting a glassless plan, and just casually unlooped, unknotted, and tossed that frisson of silk into the air.


Chicks and scarves

Not to say chicks in scarves. We do not call each other chicks anymore. Not really. Without a certain tone. But Lucille did her job and now has three chicks scooting and peeping around her and is already looking relieved. More on her later. Trying to leave her a lone a bit. Give that hen some space.

Meantime I have finally gotten to sorting through the dozens and dozens of scarves I unearthed recently. You don't really unearth scarves, or they'd be a mess. But they were all laid like a crazy, thousand petalled flower, over the arms of a chair in the upstairs of a house, and the colors were singing. Some have never been worn. Ever. Some are in triplicate. Bit by bit they are coming to the shop.