the apple of my eye

Paradisaea # 41
Size 6 +
Fringed ends
Weft grad tail accents
Woven with the a 6-shaft faux crackle variation in a zig zag pattern

The Altogether Lovely Collection
Warp: handpainted thin mulberry silk
Weft: handpainted silk/nettle yarn



~ Letters to my daughter, part 17 ~

When no-one is listening
I tell you all your names.

Softer words than they write in their dictionaries
sweeter words than they teach in their schools
words that no-one knows
except you
and me

they melt in my mouth like sugarcubes,
close to you
everything seems

If it was up to me
you’d never forget them.


The world is going to call you names too
and not all of them will be good;
some will sting like bees,
bite like rocks
hurled at you.

But if it was up to me
the ones you’ll remember
would be these silly soft syllables
I whisper to you.

Grow to be strong. Grow to be fierce.
Grow up to be a woman who’s solid as steel and glorious like the sun and tender like the morning -

but please still be the little girl
who has never even doubted
her absolute wonderfulness;
keep that sun on your brow;
I don’t want
any overcast skies
for you.

Just please remember that
someone’s absolutely head over heels for you;
you’re so utterly wonderful I need to make up my own words
to fit the emotion in them;

and that I cannot but smile
when your names

fall from my tongue.





It took me a while to put my finger on the feeling I had when I was weaving this piece. What do you call the feeling when something is just utterly, astonishingly adorable? That "squee"-feeling; a tickling that goes from your toes to your fingertips and makes you melt and shine at the same time?

I would just love for our children to know that they do that to me. They all have had absolutely goofy nicknames, words that don't translate, words that don't mean anything else than what I mean for them to mean; words I'll happily call them with even when they're teenagers and would prefer their mom to shut up.

Sure, they often push all my buttons, they do know how to annoy me. But for that very reason I mean to keep calling them with their nicknames; so that they know they're still precious. Forever. The apples of my eye.

I would just love for them to grow in that light, and to grow strong and bold in the knowledge that someone dotes on them. That someone's all in for them. That someone loves them so ardently that they don't have to question their worth. Ever.

I wanted therefore to dedicate this piece of Altogether Lovely to that kind of a love; to the captivated, astonished adoration that might start the moment when your baby is first lifted to your arms, and that is meant to follow their footsteps where ever they go. Even in the frustrating, annoying moments. Or maybe especially in them.