looking, more branches and limbs and Listening. Realizing that this Cloth is the Tree's story…the Old Russian Olive's story. Not mine. I didn't know that, but now i understand.
how my story of the Old Russian Olive was mine, but not Hers. Her story is of an entirely different depth and meaning, not so much how she appeared to be FOR me, but what she WAS of Her SELF and
IS still, of Her Self. And the Cloth…the pieces, the placement, all of it, is as she needed for her story to Continue. As i go, she will tell the story of Her Self in all the ways she can. I will stitch them and by stitching them, will take her story into my heart and carry it there always. I will be able to tell the story to the trees in the new place. I will be able to see them differently because i will have her story as a template.
windthread 
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