how a tiny crochet snowflake made me weep

Friday, 18 December 2015

How could one tiny snowflake make me cry?

Maybe it's the time of year, the exhaustion, the anticipation of Christmas, the God-awful heat--I'm not sure, but this beautiful little creation snuck into my letterbox today and it melted me.

Such a simple, sweet, delicate, tiny gift - but the beauty and the handmade workmanship takes my breath away.

Thank you, Emma Perry for being able to crochet. Thank you for crocheting snowflakes. Thank you for offering one of your precious, treasured snowflakes to me. I adore it just as I adore you and all you do for books and reading and happiness in the world.

Thank you for reminding me of my time in England--where part of my heart lies--of my first snows, my first white Christmas. Thank you for gifting me your time and your hands.

And so now this little treasure hangs in my studio, in the centre of a very British holly wreath, below Paris bunting, in front of a window encasing a Japanese maple, which sits happily in the heat of a scorching Australian summer. God I love this world--the diversity, the culture, the beauty, the divine blending. Who - WHO wouldn't want things to blend? Blending is so beautiful. It has such depth and shine and heart.

Race with race. Belief with belief. Culture with culture. Tradition with tradition. Home with home. 

Black with white. Rich with poor. Fast with slow. Orange with lemon. Boy with girl. Boy with boy. Girl with girl. Old with new. Lost with found. Displaced with home. Sad with happy. Up with down. Coffee with tea. Memory with future. Heart with soul.

Snowflake with sun. 

Thank you, Em. Your snowflake is what Christmas is all about.

x x x

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