We told the story of Winter— a harsh but necessary season. A season that yields clarity— a type of beauty you can only see through barrenness. When the overgrowth of Summer & Harvest die off, what is left? Views that once were masked by foliage and overabundance, now offer clear views of fields. Perhaps the sort of clarity we need. What can we see now, that was obstructed before? What song or poem is waiting to be written? What spools of fabric are waiting to be sculpted, clothing women in the resilience & hope that is needed for the next season?