My sister is a shepherdess. She tends a small flock on land she forged with her own hands. She is tenacious and passion-driven about her sheep. She loves them and they love her, giving back to her in wool. She labors to clean, card, color, and spin all the soil and hay-encrusted wool that she is given. The result is objects of beauty and utility that are knitted and crocheted, beautiful things from those that are beautiful to her heart. She intertwines the threads of her life with their woolen threads and gives substance and new life to what has been something else, even ordinary to see as their wool is removed and stored in a bag, then spun and fashioned by her hand, that something extraordinary might come forth. Her example to me is extraordinary, and I am thankful for the reminders that her life of working quietly with her hands brings to my heart.