The loom arrived in crates. In an attempt to follow the assembly plan in half a day I nearly lost all my religion. My efforts did not resemble a loom. I noticed what made sense when the thin paper plans were reversed, so I taped the instructions to the glass patio door facing backwards.
The loom went together and I finished it for the person I loved. Money would not have bought my time. I guarantee it.
Cloth poured from the loom. Cotton, wool, flax, and linen went in straight to the clickety-clack of the weaver’s creative rhythm and the machine made cloth one row at a time.
There was hand woven cloth for useful linens, and warm blankets, and lovely patterns the fulfillment of the basic necessities for clothing and for Art. The weaver and the loom put food on the table, brought happiness to the home, and bonded people together in the community one at a time.
Before there was cloth there were fibers. Before the fibers were the plants and the animals all in some way making the raw materials for cloth. Before the plants and animals were their tiny invisible genes.
Genes have the double-helix which is composed of four parts repeating, woven together to make a protein like a loom makes cloth.
A weaver makes cloth, but actually transforms what was there all along like an alchemist weaving proteins into tweed.