Wool roving that I added to the elderberry dye bath. I knew right away that I wanted to add some to the sky scarf. It's just the pink-peach of dawn on the horizon.
Close to the color of Chattanooga's eggs too.
Scarf at day seventeen.
A fragment of a poem I've recently found (and a poet that I want to read more by):
"But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her
barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light."