To my grandmother.
White dots on red background — her favorite and reminds me hot teapot with fragrant mint inside. Red is like hot summer, white like milk drops, and dots is like breadcrumps.
Summer in the village is always warm, but water in the well is cold and recall the northern coolness, mountains of snow, hills, bay and home. The hoop, which had been hanging on the nail for a long time, woolen thread was replaced by cotton and the favorite crochet hook replaced by thin needle eye. In the shadow of the apple tree the images came and the needle dived into the folds of fabric transforming strokes to stitch.