The first thing you notice is the sound. Not loud, just the low murmur of people counting stitches under their breath, the soft rasp of yarn pulling through fingers, the snip of embroidery scissors against fabric. In a city better known for rowhouse stoops

On a gray Baltimore afternoon, theres nothing like the feel of yarn slipping through your fingers at a corner table in a cozy space, the quiet clink of embroidery hoops and the low hum of conversation all around you. Someones blocking a lacy shawl, another