Tuesday, May 28, 2013


Little hands, leaving blooms to be found later. Running in and out, leaving the door open or slamming it behind them. Thinking they're so secretive and quiet. Giggling. Fighting over which ones mama will like best.

Me, pretending not to see or hear. Smiling. Gushing, kissing sun-warmed heads that take my breath away.

Oh, be still my heart.

Sunday, May 26, 2013


I have a stash of fabric I've carried from house to house for the last thirteen years. Most of it gathered in that first stash-building burst of shopping when I discovered quilting during my newlywed days in California. There was a drug store in Oakland that carried inexpensive fabric that was visited often, plus a favorite shop in Berkeley and a lovely shop in Tahoe. 

The problem is that most of this fabric isn't my aesthetic. It never really was but it's what was available. The modern quilting movement of the last few years has helped align what is available with my taste and that is exciting indeed. 

Somehow though, as minimalist as I am, I've held onto this fabric all these years. It never got donated or given away. Sometimes I can be a bit too sentimental for my own good.

I still remember buying these particular fabrics, reminiscent of Civil War era prints, because they reminded my of my mother. I don't know why they would exactly but they do. I remember standing at a counter with a bundle of fat quarters in my arms, thinking of her, even then trying to pinpoint why I was making that connection. 

Whatever the connection, it is there and with how much she has been on my mind lately, it just felt like time to make something with them. I've settled on a simple strip quilt. 

It feels good to finally pull these fabrics out, it feels good to relish a connection to my mother...however obscure...and as always, it feels good to be in front of my sewing machine. 

I have a feeling this one will stick around, maybe not always in use, but here nonetheless. 

I told you...too sentimental. 

Friday, May 24, 2013


It rained twice in the last month, the second time was almost two weeks ago now, and the effect of that rain on the world around me is nothing short of remarkable. It's green!  A vibrant, rich, saturated green and oh, wow, what a welcome sight that is to me.

Today, everything and everyone just seemed out of sorts, though...for no reason. Nothing at all wrong, so much right actually, but still everything just seemed off. Isn't that a guilt inducing kind of feeling? And the guilt of feeling out of sorts when I should be feeling nothing but gratitude has the effect of making a person that much more out of sorts. Yeah, that kind of day.

And then I put my finger on it. The green is fading. Just slightly so far but it is and that panicky "I don't belong here" feeling started creeping in. The green had such a way of making the heat tolerable...less noticeable some how. It felt right and familiar and comforting. But today reminded me that the rain was really a fluke and the green was never here to stay and maybe I've been a little bit unrealistic lately.

But, "here" is what it is and it has nothing to do with me. I am what I am, too, and I'm tired of feeling like I've failed at something because I can't seem to embrace life here. I'll probably never thrive here, or even like it here very much, to be honest. But I will make it and I will do my best. And I'll stay open to what this turn of events has to offer.

I really do wish it would rain, though.

Monday, May 13, 2013


There is a stack of books always close by, the ones that never seem to find their way back to the shelf, and this one is usually close to the top. It has lovely words, beautiful artwork and it gets read quite a bit lately. No matter how many times I read it though, I am always struck by the last page...the last line.

Something about that line resonates with the very core of this mama's heart. I could sit here all night and try to explain why but I don't think the words would come. This simple, lyrical sentence captures who I am, what I do here, my place in this little family of mine better than I seem to be able to. 

"Magic" and "home" will overlap for me again one day...but until then, I know that I am what make these words overlap for my children. Here and now. And when I forget that I only need to pull a sweet little three-year-old into my lap and read this book to her.

There is a lot going on in my head...and heart...this Mother's Day. About the kind of mother I want to be, about a mother gone that leaves me feeling broken, about how to carry all of that around in a place that still won't whisper the word "home" to me.  

But there might just be some magic in there, too.

 I hope so. 

Friday, May 10, 2013


I am just now coming to fully understand something I've intuitively felt my entire life. Making things, touching fabric, having something in my hands...all of this is vital for me. So grounding, centering and just...crucial. 

I have, at times, felt like my "hobbies" were expendable. Until now. Feeling so out of place and out of sorts here has certainly cleared up that misconception. I look back over this time and find it dotted with moments of peace as I sew something, knit something...create anything.

Lately, when inspiration and energy seem to be in such short supply, I've still tried to make time to just pull some fabric and see what happens.

This time I made these. So easy and the perfect use for the scraps of linen I used as the lining. Lots of little toys find their way to this space and these fabric buckets are just right for collecting them all. 

For the longest time I've tried to find peace...for now I've found a little corner of it right here. 

Thursday, May 2, 2013


Taking a moment to appreciate what is unique and lovely around me. The beauty in the broken, the strength in what is scarred but standing, the texture of the practical. Trying to find the balance between being so misplaced and still seeing what is beautiful during these days. Making sense of the right now and seeing what lessons it has to offer. 

Such a quiet, internal busyness going on around here.