Saturday, June 29, 2013


I made this little dress for her second birthday...a year and a half ago...with a pattern cut from a shirt in her closet, scraps of linen and silk and a desire for her to have something mama-made that day. I realized recently that I somehow don't have any pictures of her wearing it. How is that possible?

Just in time, before she outgrows it, a year and a half later- her birthday dress.

Thursday, June 20, 2013


I stood there in the kitchen, slicing strawberries for a sweet boy who insisted they taste better that way. Fighting the urge to insist back that they taste exactly the same either way because I knew that wasn't what he meant. That the image he'll keep of me taking the time to do that was far more important than whatever it was I thought I was in a hurry to do.

Bright, early day sunlight, fresh strawberries, already so hot we don't even consider venturing out, the most handsome little face standing eagerly beside me with a bowl. That is our day before Summer Solstice.

The early light, coming in through windows facing both north and south, was in a startling instant, gone. So startling that it took a moment before I could even process where the light had gone. A storm so sudden and fierce and dark, that sent birds flying from trees, that blocked the light that had just been there, and was over so quickly I went to the window to prove to myself that the ground was, indeed, wet.

Two years here and I am still so surprised and confused by the weather. I find myself counting raindrops like they are coins...hoping I can save them. Wishing I could spend them when the green starts to fade.

The ground seemed to dry almost as fast as the storm appeared. But a few drops lingered on roses that need pruned, on new leaves that are most assuredly as grateful for the rain as I am.

Proof that I didn't dream this.

Monday, June 17, 2013


Since creating this space of my own, this small blog that feels so much like chatting with a friend over coffee, I've noticed that sometimes I go silent, and for longer than I'd like. There was a time, much much closer than I'd like to admit, that I would have found this quite distressing, or at the very least, annoying.

I would have over analyzed it, I would have worried about it, I would have felt like something tangible was slipping away.

But over the last week or so, as this space called to me, none of those old reactions surfaced. This time I just gently said "not yet" and carried on. Carried on with a life that is working itself out, all the while thinking, mulling, absorbing so much behind the scenes.

This may not seem life altering but let me tell you, this is HUGE. This, my friends, is the tiniest beginning of self-acceptance. Of realizing that it is just who I am and how I work. Of actually appreciating and living in the moment. Of recognizing that, at times, silence and hanging back are just what I need and embracing that realization. Accepting that introspection and introversion do not make me invisible.

I may be quiet at times, I might even disappear for a bit, but I'm still here.

Right where I need to be.

Friday, June 7, 2013


Early mornings here are usually spent with a first cup of coffee and a few favorite blogs. A quiet and slow start to a day that will most definitely get a bit chaotic later... almost always a good chaos but it's that quiet start I cherish. 

This morning, with coffee in hand, I sat reading The Purl Bee and knew I had to make the Heirloom Needle Case from today's post. Linen, wool felt, scraps of twill from a little man's birthday banner....I had everything I needed. I love projects that use what I already have. It is so gratifying to have a new something finished an hour after inspiration strikes. 

This little case came together quickly, easily and is just so sweet. Another has already been promised because ten-year-olds need their own apparently (of course, they do!) and I think I will use two pieces of twill so it can be tied with a bow.

Crafty mornings....what could be better?