My great fear as a child is that some maiden aunt would knit something for me to wear. What she thought was cute was often something she would wear and not something an eight year old would wear.
So when that present from Aunt Leah would arrive in the mail it would be placed under the Christmas tree. Everyday I would look at it and hope it was not something she had knitted for me.
When I visited her I would have to wear said item. So I would often hope to see her yarns in a state such as this where it would be impossible to untangle the mess and knit me a scarf.
One day in the Jardin I looked up and images of Aunt Leah came to mind.
Someone had taken the tangled yarn and simply put it on her head.
At the moment, I was thankful Aunt Leah has passed on.