My story is a simple one. I grew up in Pennsylvania and Ohio. Winters were cold and damp. My mother had quite a few blankets for our family of six. My favorite – the blanket I finagled each winter – was our Holland Blanket. It was full-sized and multi-colored – a quite heavy wool. Beautiful, in my eyes. Snuggled under its massive weight, I was never cold. Thus, I equate warmth with heaviness. Not so in this day and age, I know. I have tried to locate another for these cold Oregon winters but nothing matches my memory. The factory in Holland, Michigan is no more.
*This is a substitute blanket for my treasure.