A Standing Loom

I climbed down carefully from the pine stool, keeping my fringes gathered close against my knees. On the lower shelf rested a clean cardboard bobbin, wound with unbleached linen thread, and two flat wooden tongue depressors left beside a pair of brass shears. I paused to test the grain of the sticks with my thumb. Taking both depressors, I set them side by side across the bobbin's spool, then guided a strand of linen over and under the pale laths to hold them upright. They tightened into a sturdy little frame. Standing beside it, I admired the firm, clean tension holding the wood steady in the afternoon light.