Hand woven rugs at a craft fair. The weaver, a Navajo woman. Her dark skin, barely wrinkled, yet she doesn’t appear too young. Something about the way she moves, the steady calmness that comes with age and experience. Her long black hair done in a braid down her back, like a thick rope, reaching below her waist. With slender hands she weaves skeins of wool into motifs imagined and actual, garnered from ancestral traditions and folk lore.