Maidenhair

I was born and raised in Hawaii, right outside the National Park. Every once in a while we bike up to Thurston Lava Tube, which is normally extremely crowded with tourists, and yet remains one of the most peaceful places I've ever been. It's green and wet and echoy, and if you venture past the well-lit and well-traveled main section, the lights go out, and the only sounds you hear are the droplets falling from the ground above. You clamber over rockfalls and shine your flashlight on the ceiling to avoid bumping your head on a tiny stalactite. I used to daydream about living in there.

The walls outside the tube are hung with graceful, trembling ferns--delightfully named "maidenhair." They quiver with every breath of breeze and every tiny raindrop, and rustle ever so softly. These silky socks are my ode to that place. The jagged edging at the top represents the stalactites and the rocky terrain. The ferns drape over the foot, and the raindrops plop along the side.