As a young girl I often admired this sampler that hung in my Grandmother Florence’s bedroom. I didn’t know anything about it, only that I loved the intricate, colorful flowers against the black background.  When she passed away my mother brought it home and hung it in her bedroom.  It became a fixture, but every so often I’d read it and think of Grandma’s patience in working the needle and embroidery floss.  The sampler came...