Not more than seven or eight years old, I distinctly recall winter evenings laying by the fire on the family room floor while my mother would spin wool into yarn. Dad would read the paper by the lamp.
As the wheel spun wool into yarn without hardly a sound, I would study the wood of the spinning wheel. Made from cherry, darkened with age, I would imagine the shapes of old faces and odd trees in the wispy grain of the wood. As if the wood could whisper from the past. As an adult, any piece made of cherry still whispers to me.
Handcrafted in Wisconsin cherry. Finished in natural oil and burnished by hand to a smooth finish. Upholstered in natural cotton.
