Spools of Thread

As machine stitching takes up a fair amount of time these days, I look at my shelf of threads frequently because it sits just above the machine at eye level. I like to fiddle with it, arrange the spools.

This pleases me so, the color, the shine and luster, the shapes. A third of the spools were mine and the rest came from my mom. Nobody wanted her collection...except me. Thanks, Mom.

I've already told this snippet of a story, which I made up, and I'll probably tell it again (I seem to be working on something unconsciously--bear with me):
My folks are sitting together in the beyond, and my dad asks peevishly, "Now, why did you buy all that thread that you didn't use?" (He was a frugal person, having lived through the Depression).
And my mom quips, "Because I knew our daughter would need it."
Can't argue with that. You'll never have the last word, Dad...

OK, back to the pomegranate leaves.