Isolation

Well friends, my health has been a discouraging road wreck this winter. One illness feeding off of the previous several times over. I’ve been depleted and discouraged. I have dropped out of my usual busy swirl of life and have rested more than I thought possible, drunk more tea than I thought possible and taken more meds than I’ve wanted to. The bitter cold has raged outside our windows and the little news I am aware of has been haunting.

I am just beginning to see the possibility of healing and it is such a relief.

I have been blessed by thoughtful cards, a bunch of pink tulips, several deliveries of nourishing soups, and a dozen eggs from the chickens down the road (they have started laying again!), text messages and phone calls from the kids and the devoted care of Batman. Cora and Wilma have been ever vigilant.

Looking forward to catching up here in the near future.

My friend Becky has an amazing snail mail ministry and her note the other day really captured my situation.

Please, dearest readers, take care of yourselves. Rest, nourish, hydrate and WASH YOUR HANDS often. The work we are doing in this broken world needs all of us. We need to be ready and able to bring our unique skills and passions to help mend things in whatever way we can.

I am so grateful for your presence here. XO

K-

Gathering tools for 2026

HELLO!

WELCOME BACK to sew and sow life.

On December 21st we had a wild storm up here, complete with snow and 57 mph winds. Our power, internet and phone were knocked out. Our generator kicked in and brought power back right away. Green Mountain Power restored our line later that day. But we were without phone or internet for 13 days before they were restored. THIRTEEN DAYS without internet and phone at home.

We had to drive down to town and camp out at the library or coffee shop to catch up on all things “worldly”.

Let me tell you, it was both a blessing and a curse to be cut off from 24/7 access to everything. It surely was an opportunity to take a deep dive into how I use the internet. And how I may want to adjust things a bit now that I am wiser.

As I approach 2026 I’m excited about the “fresh start” a new year inspires. (I usually do a big check in with myself on my birthday rather at the new year.) I will turn 70 this year and it feels significant, so I’m doing some readjusting now. :-)

And I refuse to let the bozos get me down. (Especially after this morning’s news coming out of Venezuela, where Batman spent some of his years growing up.)

So, I’ve gathered some resources to help me navigate the year ahead. Perhaps some of them will be helpful to you, too.

• Yesterday I downloaded and printed out the January Workbook for Lori Robert’s The Analog Life Project. You can read about the project here, and follow the links to subscribe. (I had such fun with Lori’s prompt about libraries. It got me to writing about all the libraries I have loved.)

• In an effort to recommit to a healthier life, I ordered this basic guide from the Harvard Medical School. It’s nice to have a place where common sense advice is gathered all in one spot.

• Insight Timer continues to help me meditate.*

• I’ve been working on my “top ten” remembrances from 2025, an effort to document accomplishments/experiences/ learnings. Looking back can help me look forward.

• I’ve also started a list of 2026 projects. There’s already a few quilts on the list, including another collaboration with daughters Lindsey and Gretta. There’s a library capital campaign in the works and a basement rehab to undertake here at our bit of earth.

• I’m on the fence about doing another “100 day stitch book” with Ann Wood.

• I’m participating in “Dry January”. Read about it here.

*Yet another juxtaposition that this resource is online, even while I concentrate on enhancing my analog life.

Please share any ideas/resources that you may be using to help you step into 2026 (below, in the comments). I’m curious!

Looking forward to easing into January with you, dearest readers.

XO

bits and pieces

Interior with a Lady, 1901. Oil on canvas by Danish artist Vilhelm Hammershøi, 1864-1916. We spent a morning with Hannah and Freya at the Detroit Institute of Arts while we were visiting for Thanksgiving. I came back to this luminous painting a few times. The light, the simplicity of the setting, and of course, the woman with a needle and thread in her hands captivated me.

We went especially to see Contemporary Anishinaabe Art: A Continuation. To read about this extraordinary exhibit, click here. There were gorgeous baskets, beadwork, textiles and canoes and other hand work.

This piece was made with hand-dyed linen and cotton, wool, flattened US quarters, cones, thimbles, glass beads, float copper, cowrie and conch shells, fossils, birchbark, wool yarn, polyester ribbon, and artificial sinew, by Jason Wesaw (born 1974) Pokagon Band of Potawatomi. As I stood in front of it, I could almost feel the stitching that went into it.

There were so many wonderful pieces, and the artist statements were filled with both pain and joy.

We bundled up against freezing temps and howling winds to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade in downtown Detroit (the juxtaposition of tribal art up against a parade celebrating colonization was not lost on me.) The fun of watching Motown’s fabulous marching bands was a treat, tho.

There were piles of books to read, crafty projects, cooking together, eating together and so much shrieking and giggling. Things seem very, very quiet back here on the hill!

Do you know Tatter? Have you ever wondered about this unique collection’s origin story? I listened to the Long Thread podcast, season 13, episode 5…here. It’s wonderful. And just yesterday I got an email announcing a new Tatter class, called “blue amulet”.

I was once again startled by coincidence. I made this amulet just last week for one of my friends. We volunteer together and her courage and tenacity inspire me. She is truly a badass, doing good in the world. She thought I was kidding when I told her I would make her an amulet. A few days later, I pushed a box across the table, and she grinned. :-) Sometimes it’s so easy to have fun, even in these scary times.

I’ve been doing some holiday stitching and look forward to sharing details after they have been gifted.

As we look forward to the new year, I hope you’ll consider joining me for Lori Roberts’ (at Little Truths Studio) for her Analog Life Project. I feel so ready for this and I cannot wait to get started!

This patched together blogpost of pictures and words is a reflection of how hard it sometimes is to focus this time of year. I just want to be sure to send you my fondest holiday greetings.

May the light of hope and love fill your days. I’ll be back in 2026, ready to rumble along with the rest of you.

Courage, dear hearts!

xo

Freya's quilt went from Vermont to Detroit

The quilt made with scraps from other projects and worn out linen garments made its way out to Detroit, tucked into our CRV along with the usual requested jugs of maple syrup and other Vermont products. Elderly Javier, the once feral cat, and one of my beloved cat grands gave it his sign of approval, along with his little human, Freya.

This quilt was made with such joy, using many traditional blocks from the wonderful Sara Buscaglia’s “quilt-along” this summer. I wanted to make a quilt for a three year old, transitioning to her “big girl” bed, but I did not want it to be juvenile. Resisting the choice of a pastel for the borders, I chose instead a soft brown that picks up the browns in many of the prints. Hopefully, the Liberty, William Morris and other classic prints will pull this quilt into Freya’s future. Sending it off to a long arm quilter was a splurge.

Thank you for all the love and concern for my Mumsie. She is hoping to return to her assisted living community on Monday, fingers crossed. It has been a journey. xo

I’ll post again soon, with fun updates on our Thanksgiving trip and many things Decembery.

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.