There are moments, in the weeks and months after a baby arrives, when you fold the things they've outgrown and put them away.
You fold them carefully, more carefully than anything else you own, and you place them somewhere safe. And years later, when you find them again, something happens that no photograph can quite replicate. You're back. Completely and suddenly - that room, that light, that feeling — the particular weight of that small person in your arms.
That's what these pieces are. Timestamps.
The physical form of moments you want to return to.
THE COLLECTION
Now we knit for the ones arriving next, and the people waiting for them.