To remember how long?
I was 21 I think. I'll be 66 soon.
So a long time I have had this scrap. In fact it is the first scrap I came across and saved with the intention of gathering scrap and stories that go with them. 
It's a wool challis. And when I found it I knew of wool challis. I remember my grandma has a scarf made of it. But I didn't know that challis was more of a general category of fabric. I thought it referred to wool. Really it can be just a lightweight, soft plain weave fabric with a slightly brushed surface, which I leaned later while working in NYC in the garment district. And originally it was a silk wool blend, way back (somebody I met added that to the story), but can be just cotton or wool or even rayon. It was first manufactured in the early 1800s in the city of Norwich, northeast of London. But what I just learned is that the word itself is derived from an Anglo-Indian word, shallee, which means 'soft'. (I love that because it is soft and that is why I like it.) I guess this makes sense knowing the relationship between Britain and India and textiles over the years.
I love cloth stories (to be filed under c), the pursuit of them.
And I made a note to myself this morning...
Stories never end unless we stop asking. Learning. Stories change as we learn.
The cloth, this little scrap was not moth eaten when I found it. That happened while I saved it. Time to use it. The cloth itself even with the holes, is still as strong as it is thin.
Heart head? The background here is hand woven. I used to do that. Weave cloth. Like regular cloth. Two shades of indigo in the warp. And a black weft. There is a lot of story to go with the old indigo cloth I used to weave. Stories for another day.
Another note to self. I am a morning person. I cannot post at night. Get up earlier. Post before the bright light hits the screen. Duh.
