I thought that it would be fun, on our last afternoon, for Rosie and I to try to dye some yarn together. I picked some wild phlox while we were camping. Then, once we got home, I set Rosie up with pulling all of flowers off. I started soaking the yarn and mordanting it with Cream of Tartar.
While she was deflowering the stalks Rosie asked me if she could keep the rest of the flowers to give to her mommy and daddy when she went home. I told her that she could take one but the rest were going into the dye pot.
“But why?” (asked every three-year-old ever)
“Because we’re taking the pink from the flowers and giving it to the yarn.”
“To the yarn?” She seemed impressed.
“Yep.” I checked on the yarn’s progress.
“But what is the yarn going to say?”
“What is the yarn going to say?” Sometimes it’s just best to repeat what she says.
“Well i don’t know. What do you think it will say?” I really did not have a clue.
“Do you think it will say ‘thanks for the pink!'”
She looks at me a grins from ear to ear. “Yeah! But, what will the flowers say?’
This gave me pause, I thought of the ghostly petals, exhausted of their colors, floating silently as their color swirled round them.
“Well, they’ll say thanks! We’re white now.” I cringed at my answer I really wish I could have thought of something better.
Long after she had gone to bed I scooped the yarn out of the dye bath and waited to hear what the flowers would say. But, they remained silent and the color trickled back out of the yarn and left it as it had been.