Folkloric Fleece

When I look back at my childhood I think of long Autumn walks with my parents, across the common in muddy welly boots with the nip of the air touching on noses and keeping our cheeks rosy, red; with the promise that if ‘We make it up this hill’ we’ll get an orange at the end of it. Sitting on benches overlooking the valley, giggling at the rain, and watching the cattle cross our path. Whenever I miss home, I think of these moments with my sisters and my parents. These memories provoke an emotion that I display in my collection. Nothing is more important than home and knowing where home is.