I am grateful for each of you

A solo walk on the beach in Green Harbor, Marshfield, MA yesterday morning was a silver lining after a week of worries about my Mumsie. Hospitalized for a few days and now in a nursing home/rehab center for a bit, she reminds me to cherish each and every day that we wake up.

And so, dearest readers, I count you among my blessings as we step into the season of intentional gratitude. Thank you for showing up here, for leaving thoughtful comments, for shining your light in the world.

So much love, me

Hope in November

I worked on November’s spread in my planner on Samhain. And what did November bring?

November 1st brought snow across the valley, and the beauty of “stick season” has settled in. And on the morning of November 4th, when I read Heather Cox Richardson’s column I felt a relief so huge that I may have wept a bit. She wrote, “But in fact, today voters resoundingly rejected Trump and Trumpism, and tomorrow politics will be a whole different game.” As I digested the news, I again got weepy when I read her column on November 5th, quoting Zohar Mamdani’s victory speech.

There is still so much ahead, plenty of challenges and setbacks and struggle. But wasn’t it lovely, even for just a few days, to sit with such good news for a change?

I’ve been to Massachusetts and back since I last wrote, visiting with cousins who I’d not seen in ages, one from Sweden and one from New Mexico. We had a lovely, nostalgic ramble (we walked there together as kids and teens and young adults) at World’s End, open space reaching out into Hingham Harbor, south of Boston. And then there was the pizza party where almost all the cousins gathered in my beloved Aunt Margretta’s living room and the mayhem of old stories and laughter mingled with memories of those gone on ahead of us. The next day I did some shopping I don’t have access to in rural Vermont and I got in a visit with my Mumsie before heading home. Anytime I drive north along I-93 and I-89 I can feel myself relaxing my grip on the steering wheel and I know “there’s no place like home”.

The road crew has put in the snowplow markers, and we’ve taken down the window screens. We washed the windows with a new concoction I found in simply living well, by Julia Watkins. I’ve been trying to use more homemade cleaning supplies to help me stay away from commercial products. Julia’s recipe includes cornstarch of all things, and it worked! No streaks! The birdfeeders are up, the lawn furniture is tucked in the shed and Batman put the snowplow on the tractor.

We woke to a dusting here this morning and so Mother Nature has reminded us that the seasons are indeed turning, one into another.

Our Meyer lemon had a fabulous summer out on the deck and is now loaded with blossoms which we hope will transform into lemons. But, alas, this dwarf tree can be fickle, so we cross our fingers that all goes well this winter. We brought our rosemary in from the garden and hope it will be OK too. Flower bulbs are potted up and tucked into the root cellar to bring up to force on the window sills again this winter.

I finished listening to Still Life, read by the author, Sarah Winman. What a delightful story! Set in both England and Tuscany, this historical fiction spanns decades and I grew to love the characters as they moved in and out of one another’s lives. I give this one two thumbs up. Now I’m rereading Twyla Tharp’s Keep it Moving: Lessons for the Rest of Your Life. It’s just right for my winter intentions.

I sent Freya’s quilt out to a longarm quilter and now I’m sewing on the binding. This is such a meditative part of the making of a quilt. Sometimes I feel like this can be the most intentional part of making a quilt…stitching love by hand, into each side of the quilt, gathering all the designing, cutting and sewing into the boundaries of fabric alchemy.

From Patchwork a sewist‘s diary, by Maddie Ballard, “I lower the needle and the world recedes.” (Page 12) I continue to find sanctuary in my studio and hope you have space in your lives to find quiet and peace.

I’ve loved reading the quotes some of you have been leaving in the comments on my last few posts. Thank you so much for sharing them. Invite you toad more whenever you are inspired!

A week later, I’m still tussling with the time change, feeling my feet drag in the late afternoon and early evening. The cats remind me often that their stomachs have not adjusted either. I will sign off now, to feed them their supper.

Dearest readers, let us stay strong. And remember, “ Joy doesn’t cancel out the heavy things-but gives you little pockets of strength to carry on. Let it in. Whenever and wherever you can” -Stacie Swift.

Dusting off the keyboard

On October 1st, I posted a photo much like these. October is full of mornings when we can catch a few minutes of absolute magic. The opportunity to catch it lasts a few short minutes. Look away and it’s gone. As the sun rises over the ridge to our east, the sunlight shines on the hills on the ridge on our west, causing other-worldly color and light.

On the way down the hill, cloudy days make the golden leaves left hanging on the trees dazzle. The wind sails the russet leaves across the road and into funnels along the edges of the ditches. The evergreens stand bold next to the bare tree branches and the brilliant beeches and tawny oaks. The ferns are bent on their stems, tucked into the underbrush. Milkweed tassels float until they are caught on barbed wire strung along pasture lines. Squirrel and bird nests can be spotted up in the bare branches, silhouetted against the sky.

Fog settles into the valleys and sometimes sweeps past our house on currents that swirl around the apple orchard. Blessed rain returns to the land and we put on raincoats as if they are sacred garments. The wind picks up and howls, making the door on the woodshed bang if someone forgets to latch it. The world becomes luminous. There are portals everywhere…between now and then, between here and there.

I pull a Tarot card for Samhain and am delighted for what it stirs in me. Something I’ve felt a bit more urgency about lately. Confirmation of a renewed direction.

And I remember loved ones. I say aloud, “To those who came before me. I see you. I honor you. I carry your strength.”

And I remember my dad, who loved Halloween most of all. And I listen to Night on Bald Mountain in his honor.

Treasures to share…

For hope. Check out the 2025 MacArthur Fellows, here.

For courage. Check out a fellow Earlhamite doing good things in Vermont that spills into the wider world, here.

For inspiration. I finally splurged on Anna Brones’ Advent Calendar, 24 Days of Making, Doing, and Being. You can see one here.

For a sweet and quick read (recommended by blog reader and friend Stacy). Patchwork, a sewist’s diary, by Maddie Ballard, here.

For clever outwitting. Read about Louise Penny and a certain Vermont library’s collaboration, here.

About my commonplace book. I purchased mine at a small indie art supply store in Middlebury, VT. Sparrow Art Supply sells bullet journals made by Leuchtturm. BUT SERIOUSLY, any notebook will do, even a deck of index cards. Keep it simple and fun.

For Building community here at sewandsowlife. A few readers left a quote or two in the comments on my last post. What a delightful way to share inspiration. Please do leave a quote or two this time around as well. It would be such fun to see what others find useful and helpful in navigating these tough times. Such a simple way for even the shyest of readers to hop in! Drop a note, too, if you marched in a “no kings” event. How did it feel?

As ever, I send love, light and hope to you, dearest readers.

Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

:-)

Carrying on

There are seasonal things I do to remind myself that life goes on. There’s a rhythm, a steady flow from one thing to the next. Our foliage season was a bust, but there was still beauty to be seen. Batman planted next spring’s garlic yesterday. I’ve gathered acorns to brew a dye pot.

This weekend I made a wreath from rose hips as I often do in October. You can find my tutorial here.

We took a big bag of our apples down the road to our neighbor’s annual cider pressing, where the yellow jackets joined us as they do each year. Snacks, conversation, romping dogs, goat bells in the distance, golden sunlight…it all added up to a comfort that comes with rural living.

This weekend, the farmers’ market in Montpelier was brimming with gorgeous produce. And a bittersweetness that there are only two more outdoor markets this year. A hard frost brought Brussels sprouts to the market and we ate some last night, sautéed in olive oil, with garlic and sprinkled with chopped pecans and fresh parsley.

Our tires will be swapped for snow tires in a few weeks and then we’ll be ready to rumble for what comes next.

Elderly pumpkin purée from the freezer, transformed into pumpkin pancakes for a Sunday morning breakfast treat.

I’m fascinated by the way flat pieces of felt can be sewn into three dimensional critters. This fox made it out to Detroit for Matilda’s third birthday. Scraps of the floral fabric came from a dress I made for one of the girls, can’t remember which one. The apron, its fabric complete with topography lines, was stitched from scraps from a quilt.

I’ve now stitched a variety of bunnies, foxes and a kitty using Alicia Paulson’s patterns. They really are fun to put together.

My favorite part of finishing them may be stiffening the whiskers with starch. :-)

When I have an acute case of “the world is out of control” sometimes homekeeping helps me feel grounded. I used this recipe to make a batch of spoon oil. I’m working my way through our collection of wooden kitchen tools, batch by batch. The recipe called for some beeswax and I bartered with a friend for a nice chunk. He keeps bees up and over the ridge. I also found walnut oil on sale at our food coop, so I consider this project a win!

Our book group gave Fresh Water for Flowers mixed reviews. In all honesty I gave up at page 302, but some loved it. A few others DNF (a clever abbreviation for “did not finish”, that I just learned of. I know, sometimes I’m late to the party.)

I listened to The Thread Collectors, by Shauna J Edwards and Alyson Richman and had mixed feelings about it. The authors’ notes at the end helped me appreciate it a bit more.

Vermont Humanities chooses a book each year and designates it a “Vermont Reads” book, a statewide community Reading Program. You can read about it here. This year’s pick is The Light Pirate, by Lily Brooks-Dalton. I’m listening to this one as well and I am loving it. The topic of global climate change is grim, but I’m told this is, in the end, a hopeful book. I am trying to grapple with my fears about climate change, and so I hope this helps.

Our November book is Still Life, by Sarah Winman. Have any of you read it?

I’m still puttering around with my newish commonplace book. There are lots of descriptions of what a commonplace book can look like and I’ve been cruising the online suggestions, and am developing my own version…a place to jot book quotes, points of interest in articles I read, suggestions for better health and wellness, recommendations from friends to refer back to when I have time. That sort of thing. (That lovely washi tape is from my online friend, Lori at Little Truths Studio.) Do any of you keep a commonplace book?

Some of us are combining our buying power and taking out an ad in the local paper this week, highlighting the things we cherish and defend about democracy, with a reminder of Saturday’s peaceful NO KINGS event. I’m not a crowd person, so will probably take a pass on the gatherings, and I do not apologize for this. Each of us has our own way of contributing to the cause, and devoted volunteering is my way. If any of you are heading out to join a march, please, please be as careful as you are courageous. And know that I admire your courage and fortitude.

As ever, we go onward. As we must, each in our own way. Shining our light, each adding to the brilliance of hope and love.

xo

October light

Because I thought we might all need a dose of magic today, I’m posting this photo I took this morning as I drank my tea. The sun was rising behind me, setting the hills to the west of us ablaze with an otherworldly glow.

Despite everything.

🍁❤️

Hello again

I took this photo at 6:23 AM on Sunday, September 12th.

Is it the world on fire? (Not really a trick question?)

This is just a gorgeous sunrise here in this brave little state of Vermont. Captured where our driveway and the road meet, across the road from our neighbor’s freshly mown hayfield, it’s a reminder that there’s beauty in the darkest of days. Across the fence from the hayfield is our other neighbor’s yurt, a place that shelters a friend of theirs.

I’ve tried to show up here at sewandsowlife multiple times.

But, damn, it’s getting harder and harder.

Yet I’m determined to keep my head up and face reality and still believe in light and love and hope.

We’ve had a bit of rain the last few days and people are so, so happy. I heard somewhere that this has been the driest summer here in VT since 1890. Neighbors have had trouble with their wells, farmers are concerned about having enough feed for their livestock this winter. We harvested some of our veggies early so we did not have to water them anymore (our rain barrel has been empty for weeks). We’ve had serious trouble with deer for the first time since we bought this place. I’m guessing it’s because their normal sources of food were compromised by the drought and their sense of fear was diminished. Our gardens, which are very close to the house, were a salad bar for them. We’ll need to rethink all of that next spring. The danger of wildfires has been off the charts. So, thank you Mother Nature, for finally blessing us with some steady, soaking rain.

I’ve taken to creating quiet little spots around the house, where I can pause, breathe, recenter. Coming home from the “real world” and spotting our annual vase of sunflowers on the porch helps me transition into home-sweet-home mode. Holding a pebble in my hand brings me back to the present moment, where I can regain my composure. It works like a charm. I’m thinking maybe it is a charm.

The Equinox has come and gone and now we are tidying up the garden which is beautifully connected to enjoying the foliage. Inhaling the fresh air, stretching to the sky, thanking the gardens for their yeoman’s work this summer, dreaming about next spring’s planting…

Working on another “softie”, using a pattern purchased from Alicia Paulson years ago, I ordered wool felt and a few other supplies from Benzie Design, based in Plainfield, Il. Their package arrived promptly and was a delight to open. I’m working full steam ahead on this fox, someone’s third birthday is coming up…

Because my volunteer work is so fraught with peril these days, (not for profits vs “he who shall to be named”. Need I say more?) I’ve been deliberately trying to balance the stress with small comforts, like sewing, crafting, snail mail…

I just discovered cut+paste magazine. What fun! Check it out here. I was happy to find that I could purchase single issues vs subscribing for a whole year, so I can check it out first. I’m going to make time this weekend to play with its contents.

Once in a great while, I pop over to Substack. I found this excellent piece that you might enjoy, too. Written by Paul Shattuck, it outlines 80 small ways to stay human in these challenging times.

I listened to The Oysterville Sewing Circle, by Susan Wiggs on Libro.com while sewing in my studio last week. The plot was predictable from the start, but gosh it was an easy escape.

That’s all I’ve got this time around, dearest readers. I think of you out there, spread across different time zones, stages of life, and lifestyles. But I take comfort in knowing that we’re kindred spirits, seeking a better world.

My favorite quote these days is from Rumi, the great Sufi mystic and poet.

If everything around you seems dark, look again.

You may be the light.

Sending all of you love, light and hope.

Come sit with me

Sometimes I wake up early. These days it’s chilly in the morning. I get up, feed the cats, brew some tea and curl up with a good book and a quilt.

I finished My Friends and was not disappointed! Fabulous story. I also finished listening to The Correspondent, by Virginia Evans. Big thanks to blog reader Juliann for the recommendation. My book group’s next book is Fresh Water for Flowers, by Valérie Perrin.

This morning, I made a list of the lovely things I want to share with you. If you have some time, make space for a virtual visit to my comfy couch, and we can renew our hope together.

“To be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing” -Raymond Williams

Our Gretta sent this beautiful postcard to me, from Heartell Press. I couldn’t resist taking a picture of it on my “Persephone” quilt, tucked up next to a napping Corazón. There are so many small businesses, trying to good in the world with their products.

I am careful about which newsletters I sign up for, trying to keep distractions to a manageable amount. And gosh, I think the quality of writing has jumped up a notch. More and more makers are speaking up about the context of their process and work. They are making things in spite of the squelching of freedoms and growing darkness in this nation.

I read Hannah Nunn’s blogpost titled “Peaceful Poppies”. I loved the story of her struggle to find meaning in these crazy times, and how she worked to find her way into doing something that resonated for her. I ordered a poppy right away, and it’s a good thing, too. Hannah, along with many other overseas artisans have stopped shipping to the USA. Their beautiful work, their careful business plans, their worldwide audience has been sabotaged by he who shall not be named.

I found a new-to-me local business called BirdieBlue, I hope it manages to weather the storms of our economic climate. Woman led, BirdieBlue is working hard to keep old winter gear out of landfills, in a most creative way! Check out their website here.

I took this book out of the library, mostly for its gorgeous photos. I doubt I will ever make a utensil by hand, but the book had a great recipe for beeswax salve to treat wooden things with. Heirloom Wood, a modern guide to carving spoons, bowls, boards and other homeware can lower your blood pressure just by turning the pages. :-)

Since joining our library board I’ve had a goal of visiting more libraries in Vermont. Ours is a small state, so getting around is easier than it might be in other parts of the country. On Friday, Batman and I drove over to Vergennes to poke around the small city and explore the Bixby Memorial Free Library. What a gem! You can read about it here.

I’m convinced more than ever that public libraries are one of the cornerstones of a strong and vibrant democracy. I love the learning I’m doing with our small band of trustees.

And I love the many ways our public libraries are signaling their all inclusive welcome!

I promised you photos of the capes when they got to Detroit. And now there’s one on its way to Freya, too. To see the one I made for Maggie when she was a little girl, look here. Quick stitching can be such fun, and another way to connect to far away grandchildren.

The frosting on the cake of this bog post is a magical home in Sweden, as shown in this post by My Scandinavian Home. Maybe next time we can meet there!

Cultivate hope, dearest readers, act with courage, shine your light.

Love, KLR

p.s. I’ve finally commented on your comments. I’m so forgetful about this detail. :-(

East Barnard Linen Fair 2025

This summer a call to artists was put out for participants in a workshop called Indigo and Linen Workshop with Pamela Wilson. Sponsored by Green Mountain Linen, I couldn’t resist. I was accepted, but alas, I was offered a spot on a day I could not attend. How I wish things could have been different!

It’s interesting to note that the work done in this workshop used indigo pigment, not fresh leaves. (I’ll be harvesting my own home grown indigo in the next few weeks…)

This afternoon I went down to East Barnard to see the work submitted by participants. The beautiful birds (above) were made by my friend Sue Schlabach. The mobile is called “Moonrise and Bluebirds”, the embroidered wall hanging is called, “To Begin Flight”.

The beautiful quote was woven by Lausanne Allen, and is titled “Elephant in the Room”.

Pamela Wilson painted “Indigo Bloom Sampler #2” with indigo, pitblack and black walnut watercolors.

“Skies” was created by Rebecca Wiggins, using linen, indigo, cornstarch, cotton thread and wood. It was exquisitely diaphanous…floating in the air as people passed by.

Eliza Meeker hand sewed “Pinafore” with linen cloth dyed with indigo, cotton thread.

“The Indigo Orbweaver” was created with flax, hand spun and hand dyed by the artist, then knitted into this table topper. In her artist statement Sarah Barton likened the process to a spider spinning her web.

I am sorry I could not avoid glare on this framed piece. It was gorgeous. Titled “Origin”, Poppy Gall used dried stems from flax grown in East Barnard, VT woven together with indigo dyed linen thread, stitched to indigo dyed linen fabric.

To read all about Green Mountain Linen click here. To read about the East Barnard Linen Fair, click here.

To read about my experience at the fair last year, and other weaving adventures, click here.

I’ve got lots of other things to catch you up on, it’s that time of year…when my energy wakes up and I do a little autumn happy dance!

In the meantime, I hope this beautiful work brings you some peace and quiet. The blues and muted natural linen colors seem so reassuring to me. Like breathing slowly in and out.

I am reading My Friends, by Fredrick Bachman and it’s full of wonderful thoughts on how art can save us. I am absolutely loving this book. It may be one of my top ten favorite reads of all time. I have turned down the corners on so many pages! I really must go back and write them into my newish commonplace book. Can’t wait for book group this Friday!

Take good care dearest ones…

A Vermont Quilt Sampler

On Monday, I used a pass I got from the Kimball Public Library’s Library of Things and took myself down to Billings Farm and Museum in Woodstock, VT. One of my favorite public spaces in Vermont, I went especially to see their annual quilt exhibit. There was a full range of styles, and skill levels which I deeply appreciated. It’s fun to see where beginners start out and where years of experience can take a quilter. Here are a few of my faves. I’ll let the quilts and the maker comments speak for themselves.

I hope this collection of photos and maker’s words has brought you a bit of gathered light. Beauty, crafted by hand, is a refreshing form of resistance to all things depressing.

I finished up my quick coasters. I sent two capes off to Detroit yesterday. One made with fabric we tie dyed out the yard with Tilly and Flora, one made with fabric pulled from my stash. I hope to get some photos of the capes in action. I’ll share them when I do.

September is just around the corner and she’ll bring my favorite season with her. This will be a quiet weekend for me and I plan to make space for recalibrating my days to match some changes I’ve been wanting to make. I love a sheet of craft paper and a sharpie for brain dumping, brain mapping and brainstorming!

Dearest readers, may you find a bit of peace in your corner of the world. May you find rest and beauty and calm. And may you shine your own light in the world.

xoxoxoxo

Still gathering light in august

After many weeks of hosting kids and grandkids, the house is very, very quiet. I’ve been doing my usual tidying up meditations as I put toys and games and stuffed animals into bins that are stored in the basement. The kid sized plates and flatware have gone out of daily rotation. The sheets are out to the clothesline in shifts, folding them reminds me of snuggles we shared as we read books in bed before lights out. Museum passes have been tucked away, either in my wallet or returned back to our “library of things” at Kimball Public Library.

The dreadful news keeps rolling out, but distracted by grandchild shenanigans, I gave it little notice.

But gosh, I took a peek this morning and am sobered.

All the more reason to look for light and gather it up into our spirits.

My dear friend Liz gifted me this tea towel. She found it in the online shop at the International Quilt Museum in Lincoln, Nebraska. If that circle of needles doesn’t remind me of the radiance of the sun, I don’t know what does! And what fun to explore their website and dream of visiting someday. Have any of you been there?

I find a bit of light anytime I sit down to sew. I’ve been working on these super quick coasters in little snippets of time here and there. You can find a YouTube video with instructions, here. I was telling someone about my favorite Uncle David the other day. I miss him. He ran a Sunoco service station for years and years and created a community of customers and staff who relied on his smile and good nature to get them through the day. The next day I started pulling fabric for the coasters and stopped… stunned when I realized that I was pulling the colors of the Sunoco logo. Honestly. Life is full of connections. It’s pretty amazing when you keep your eye out for them and notice.

A very different kind of light shines from the Netflix documentary, The Quilters. From the website, “In this award-winning short documentary, men in a Missouri maximum-security prison design and sew beautiful, personalized quilts for foster children.” Worth a watch if you need to be reminded that there is still much good in the world.

Our morning glories were slow to bloom this summer, it’s been dry (after a very rainy spring). But whenever I walk by them, I think, “Yup, that’s glory, right there!” Hello magic.

There is much more to tell about light and hope and persistence. Drop a note in the comments if you have spotted some recently. Shine, friends. It really makes a difference.

With gratitude for your presence here.

HUGS, me