My mother, Blanche Shaddle, was born in 1899 on a farm in Illinois. She had a pet sheep whom she raised. When old enough, the sheep was sheared and the fleece used to make their comforter. My mother slept under it, and, later, I slept under it too. It was a treasured bit of family love that I brought West when I moved here in 1956. Ultimately, my children slept under it too. A tiny lamb warmed three generations and traveled West as well.