What "Traditional Knife" are ya totin' today?

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Mostly a sweat rag, but ya never know...
Gotta be USA Made soft cotton, though. For polishing glasses and my delicate skin.
When it's cold, you can keep your neck warm, too.

Got my first glasses in 2nd grade.🥴
Then new ones whenever I broke them playing hockey.

Is this a microcosm of your front yard project?
How is it coming along?
This is in the backyard in a raised bed, actually. Front yard: after we removed the concrete walkway and de-lawned it we thought we'd grow wildflowers for soil recovery for one year, then plant our vineyard. Well, half the yard grew the wildflowers fabulously well, and half did not, so we thought a second year of soil recovery was in order. The whole yard did well with wildflowers this spring, so we will be building trellises in the autumn and planting grapes in the winter.
 
This is in the backyard in a raised bed, actually. Front yard: after we removed the concrete walkway and de-lawned it we thought we'd grow wildflowers for soil recovery for one year, then plant our vineyard. Well, half the yard grew the wildflowers fabulously well, and half did not, so we thought a second year of soil recovery was in order. The whole yard did well with wildflowers this spring, so we will be building trellises in the autumn and planting grapes in the winter.
I'm restoring my lawn with clover that grows by itself instead of grass!
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Indigo Blades

Once upon a time, in a quiet Appalachian town nestled between forgotten railroads and whispering pines, there was a pair of old denim jeans. They were no ordinary jeans. No, these jeans were once worn by a railroad blacksmith named Elmer Boone. They had seen sparks fly, heard hammers sing, and carried countless tools and stories deep in their seams.

Elmer had passed long ago, but his jeans remained. Faded and scuffed, they lay folded in a dusty trunk in the attic of his great-grandson, Cole Boone. One summer, during a thunderstorm that shook the hills, the trunk creaked open and the jeans whispered an idea to young Cole, a knifemaker and tinkerer who had inherited Elmer’s love for steel and fire.

Inspired, Cole cut the denim into pieces, soaked them in resin, and compressed them into dense slabs of indigo and memory. He shaped them into smooth, curved handles and paired them with D2 high-carbon blades he forged in Elmer’s old shed. One knife had an easy-open Lambfoot blade, clean and sharp as a whistle carried on the wind. The other had a drop point, sturdy and dependable as Elmer Boone himself.

Cole stamped the name Rosecraft into each blade’s tang, a nod to the town's old name that had faded from maps when the railroad stopped running. With Rosecraft gone, folks split on what to call the place. Some said Overall Creek. Others called it Elk River, after the reintroduction of elk to the region. Cole, however, stuck with the traditional Rosecraft.

On one handle he inlaid a small steel skull, a playful reminder that every tool carries a bit of its maker's spirit.

Down at Harlan’s General Store, where Cole liked to show off the pocket knives, townsfolk soon began calling them the Indigo Blades. Relics of denim reborn, carrying the strength of a railroad man and the soul of a mountain forge. And when they caught light, the layered denim shone like the sky before a summer storm.

Cole carried the pocket knives with him everywhere. But as months and seasons passed, his attention to them began to fade. First one, then the other, fell victim to the sofa monster.

And just like that, the Indigo Blades vanished into local lore, hidden somewhere in the great sofa abyss, likely napping with lost remote controls, loose change, and crumbs from epic mountain dinners.

So if you are ever in the Appalachian region and spot an ad tacked to a telephone pole that reads,
“Contact Cole Boone if interested in a sofa,”
you just might come home with a sofa ... as well as pieces of some old denim jeans.



This story: Parts made in China. Assembled in U.S.A.


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