Hello gang...This is my first attempt at a blog, so bear with me. I'm not sure I have too much to say but here it goes.

I used to ride horses, for pleasure and competitively. It comforted my heart and soul, there is something about the smell of a horse's breathe, the warmth of their body and their willingness to do most of what we ask, blind trust. When I was diagnosed with MS in 2000 I had to give it up due to some of my symptoms at the time. I still have my beloved Abby, but we do not get to share the same time any longer. Life continued, I got married, had my children and even though I am capable of riding again, it has to wait a few more years. I was left with a huge void in my life and my soul longed for fulfillment.

Not thinking anything of it, I took a basket weaving class at a local craft shop. I was instantly addicted and slowly built my skills, discovering a hidden talent. Slowly the void began to fill. I started selling my baskets at local craft shows as a way to get out of the house, but that has now turned into a way to rid myself of the many baskets I have accumulated. I can now work out situations and problems while weaving the same way I used to be able to work them out on the back of my Abby. She was always willing to match my mood, wether it was somber and I needed to just spend time alone with her, or energized by a bad day and filled with tension. She was always there and together we managed to make it through many tough situations that only she and I knew about. I can now work out my demons while weaving. There are some baskets that are woven and, due to the mood at the time, do not leave fond memories and therefore I vow to never make another, while others are done with peaceful tranquilty and I can not wait to weave more like it.

There is something about taking a piece of a vine that once grew to the treetops and by using just a few simple techinques making something beautiful. I spent the weekend a few weeks ago at a fiber festival in northern PA. Now I want to learn to spin. Again, taking raw fiber, just sheared from the animal, washing, carding and spinning into yarn that can then be used to make a wearable garment speaks to my soul in a way I don't think I will be able to ignore.