I almost had kittens when I saw these mittens.

I talked here about the lovely mittens my Dad gifted to my Mom.

This morning, Mom showed the mittens to me for the first time.

Sixty-three years later, the mittens remain free of moth holes or other damage:

Verona, Wisconsin, November 2011. My Dad, while he was a Displaced Person, commissioned a German woman to knit these mittens for my Mom. The condition and stitch technique are flawless. The left mitten, however, is significantly smaller than the right mitten.

It made no difference. My Mom has petite, delicate hands.