Rapt and swathed.

{Winter ready.}

If to be rapt is akin to being moonstruck enchanted, I am. I am rapt in my Mum’s new scarves. Moreover, I am wrapped, bundled, swathed, muffled too, from the chill of a winter on its way. Perched on a rock somewhere Williamstown way, Louise, a handful of gulls, one black swan and me. We are the players on the quiet stage late one afternoon. The rain held off, and those out walking their dogs looked at us with small smile drawn across the face.
 
These are the new things my Mum has made, a new addition to her handmade lineup. I am thinking one of these I will have to keep. They are too tremendous. Too much so that I had to share.

Thelma's handmade scarves.
Two styles available. All one-of-a-kind.
Handmade vintage Irish tweed with pure woolen tassels and appliqué detailing.
Wool blend fabric with flannel and appliqué detailing (some with hand-dyed vintage wool fabric squares).

(Louise is wearing one of my jumpers I wore in childhood days. It is one of my Mum’s creations. A hand-knitted madness of colour and pattern and clash.)