I've been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately, Barbara Coan. She was a dear friend, and an inspired painter. I've been wearing an old wool coat of hers this winter, in the snow and in the wind, imagining her moving through days of errands and art in this same coat 50 years ago. The pockets have worn through, been patched, worn through again. The lining tears a bit each time I reach down to put my boots on, and I bought some fabric to re-line it in the spring when I’m not wearing it every day. I love treasuring an item in this way, by using it and repairing it and using it some more. I can’t say if this was something I learned from her, but it sure seems possible.

She left the coat behind when she and my grandfather moved from Maine to warmer climes. I found it in a closet at my folks’ house on my last visit, and it has become my favourite winter garment. It feels like a hug, like being wrapped in the warm blanket of familial love.

I made a little digital book about her years ago when I was testing out Steller, before all the other social sites had a stories feature. Meet Barbara.