As I scrolled through the registry of tartans, I glanced across mine a simple green and red, my family tartan, which I’m so proud to hold. My hot cup of coffee in one hand and hours of bedrest ahead of me I had taken on the task of learning the language Scottish-Gaelic and literally engrossing myself in all things Scotland. I do so hope to go there in this coming year, God-willing.
The lace I have is on a book mark that has been passed down through generations of Scots. I daresay I cannot imagine what the lace has seen with its many eyes. So delicately woven in such a perfect pattern. Resembling a fine Scottish heirloom perhaps even made 
woven before the Rising at Culloden.
How exciting it would be for me to uncover a lost ancestor!!
In fact, I was so consumed with this possibility that I went and bought an Ancestry kit! I’m going to have such fu uncovering my genealogy. At least that will keep me occupied for awhile… Which with this whole bedrest thing is proving more and more taxing.
