What happens when a weaver loves her salsa?!

See the lovely pink flesh of the tomatillos? Love the stuff, love to make it, love to buy it fresh and love to eat it. It's a dishtowel, of course because it belongs in the kitchen.

My mother once reminded me after I got into weaving as an adult of the summer I was eight years old, picture 1953 if you can, I actually had a ducktail as a haircut. I was helping her can peaches which means I probably ate more than I helped, I digress. I helped because I wanted the peach crate, had designs on it. I wanted to make a loom.
So, I went begging to my father for help. My folks owned a hardware store, Nelson's Hardware, in a small town of 5000 in the middle of Iowa. That always helps when what you are wanting is hardware. I wanted a box of brads. Little almost headless nails for those of you who didn't grow up in the back end of a hardware store. Dad had already talked to me about placing the brads randomly, not in a straight row on each end so I wouldn't split the wood. And they had to go pretty deep because there would be some tension on them.
Next day at the hardware store. What did I have to do to earn them? Dad had the projects all lined up. Take apart this vacuum that Mrs. Miller brought in and clean it up. Remember to put the screws in the dish here. That done dad took over with the vacuum, which had a fried belt.
Next, sweep the front walk. It always needed sweeping because just to the right of the hardware was the Cigar and News, plenty of discarded cigar wrappers and tobacco butts. But we were good neighbors so I often extended my sweeping to include the front sidewalk of the C & N, well because, after all they didn't have any children left at home to come help out. And they often brought me out a treat. I'm no dummy. "When are you gonna grow a little, that pushbroom is twice your size." Teasing was always a way of saying thank you.
Last, clear out the broken glass in this window that came out of old Frank's hog barn and then work on getting the old putty out. Be careful of the glazer points. Nasty, sharp little metal triangles that hold the glass close up next to the frame and are often buried in the old dried out putty. A smelly project but one I had done before many times. I already knew how to cut little pieces of glass and I was taking lessons on glazing. One day I would be able to do the whole project.
Now, I was the proud owner of my very own box of wire nails. He donated some string from an almost used up cone, loaned me his tack hammer and sent me with some change to the Five and Dime for some yarn. I bought bright multi-colored, of course.
And soon thereafter I began weaving. Threads are devious little things. But really you just begin by loving salsa. The weaving pattern was dubbed M's and O's by a woman whose three times great grand daughter who also became a weave dove in to the scraps of paper that were her grandmother's legacy, patiently put each pattern to the test on her own loom and then shared with us.
Thank you for letting me share my towel.
As ever, M
P.S. I've also got one called chocolate cake.