hi

magic underfoot. gingko leaves and cobblestones.

sunrise, yesterday, here at our “bit of earth”.

candlelight at supper. to gather ourselves, settle ourselves and name gratitudes. the exhale before we pick up our forks.

our devoted girls. wilma and corazón.

All I have for you today are a few links for you to explore.

We listened to this piece while taking a wee road trip. It’s a real treat, because Krista Tippet is being interviewed, a reversal for her, as she is most often the interviewer. Dan Harris of the Ten Percent Happier podcast followed up with Krista on a TED Talk she had recently delivered. The podcast is called Three Skills for Staying Calm, Sane and Open in a Chaotic World. I may listen to it again, it was filled with gems and I want to really absorb them.

Here’s a quick listen, about the Lewiston, ME high school soccer team. It may give you the warm fuzzies.

scavenged beauty from the gardens and the meadow. an autumn “hello” by the front door.

Take care, dearest ones. Know that I am grateful for each time you show up here, leave a comment or drop a “like”. Thank you. I’ll be back in a bit with a giveaway, some big curiosity and more “devotion to little things”.

devotion to little things :: pausing

Lichen and crusty snow on a crabapple branch.

Crabapples and ice and Falu siding.

This is why I don’t tidy up my flower garden in the fall.

Our first snow of the season. Good morning!

The only way to describe the state of affairs around here is “suspended animation” or “on pause”. I cooked the wrong ratio of oats to water yesterday, and ended up with a bit of a mess. I can’t seem to get through my email in an organized fashion. I doze off at random times, many times a day. But that’s OK, ‘cause I am recovering slowly. I am devoted to pausing, not “pushing through”, or “bucking up”. Are there ways you can pause in the midst of these turbulent times? My favorite ways to pause…looking up at the sky, relaxing shoulders, inhaling deeply, brewing some tea, taking a walk, reading poetry, mending, getting a CAT scan from Wilma or Cora…

I don’t have any nifty projects to share with you, or much to say. I thought I’d share some gems I’ve found on the occasions when I am focused enough to navigate the internet.

Do you listen to unsung hero on NPR? I heard this episode this morning and wanted to share it with you. The little things. The little things that can change lives. xo

Hannah Nunn really does a nice job of making me smile. Right around the time I posted about my acorns, she wrote this lovely piece.

If you have enjoyed Wintering or Enchantment by Katherine May, I recommend her recent piece on Substack, How to Feel Grounded, Finding Calm in Dark Times.

When we change the clocks the twinkle lights over the kitchen sink get plugged in at breakfast and stay on through supper. Because I am devoted to little sparkly bits of hope.

Sending love and hope and comfort to all of you, dearest readers. xo

devotion to little things :: mending our bodies and souls

A tiny Liberty of London patch on my grandmother’s dresser sleeve.

Hydrate.

Rest.

Repeat.

After giving Covid the slip for the last three and half years, it finally grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me in to bed. I’ve been in a fog here on the hill for two weeks. It seems like it’s been a good time to be away from much of the news and the outside world.

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I’ve been rethinking how to put my life back together once I’m up and about. Mending my immune system, mending my spirit, mending a tiny corner of the world…

How have you been, friends? I have missed you.

xo

devotion to little things::acorns

Silk, cotton, linen.

Gathering acorns, thanking the tree they fell from, creating a dye pot and simmering cloth…connecting Mother Nature with my studio and my hands…a weekend spent in meditation. Using the cloth I had dyed and some old calicos from my stash, I cut little circles, ran a running stitch around the edges, drew up the gathers and stuffed a bit of batting into each pouch. I tucked the raw edges into an acorn cap rimmed with glue…and VOILÁ…make believe acorns.

I have some acorns soaking in water, to see if any of them will split and sprout. If I have success, I’ll have a wee oak tree growing on the kitchen windowsill. If that’s not a bit of hope, I’m not sure what is. :-)

Do you remember David M Bird’s work? His acorn critters are some of my favorite whimsies.

And my dear friend Anne has posted a tutorial on how to paint acorns that’s just lovely.

The colors in Vermont are fading fast, but the beeches still sing in the woods.

Batman brush hogged the meadow a while back, and the gardens are mostly put to bed. Batman spread goat compost (from our neighbors down the road) on the beds and in the hoop house. The leeks and sage and parsley are hanging on. The sky has been heavy with mist and rain and we are snug inside.

I hope you are able to find a little thing or two in your neighborhood, to tuck in your pocket, to draw a picture of, to share with a friend…something that might ground you for a moment or two…to bring you into the present moment.

Be gentle with yourselves and those around you, friends. These are times when love and light are more important than ever. xo

a little grandchild and her little birthday quilt

Tilly and her birthday quilt!

Look at that gorgeous honeycomb quilting!

Our youngest grandchild, Matilda, turned one this week. Her mama, her Auntie Gretta and I started working on her birthday quilt last February. Lindsey collected fabrics from her stash and from a Dear Stella series. She had some ideas about a piecework pattern and Gretta drafted it for us, with each of us piecing a third of the quilt top. Lindsey and Gretta sent their sections to me in Vermont (thank you USPS) and I stitched them together with mine. When I went out to visit family in Detroit in April I took the quilt top with me. We three shopped for a backing at Ann Arbor Sewing Center. Then Lindsey made a roll of binding, made the backing, found some batting and dropped everything off at Amy’s place, for some long arm quilting. Lindsey and Amy decided that a honeycomb pattern would be just right. The quilt found its way back to Vermont this summer, when Lindsey and her family came to visit and we sat around on the three season porch and sewed the binding on together.

On the design wall in my studio in Vermont

Lindsey, Gretta and I have collaborated on quilts before and it’s such a lovely way to stay connected to my girls who live far away from Vermont. We enjoy making quilts to celebrate special occasions, knowing that they will keep loved ones cozy for years and years to come.

And there’s not a lot of room for melancholy when you have a needle and thread in your hands. Come to think of it, a need and thread are little things, too.

:-)

P.S. Lindsey took most of these photos and gave me permission to share them here with you.

P.P.S. I am finally responding to your kind comments on my last post.

devotion to little things

Dearest friends,

I have been avoiding this post for ages. I’ve written it in my head so many times. But today I’m writing it, because sometimes life just gets really hard. And sometimes it’s healthy to acknowledge that.

I’ve been enmeshed in some melancholy that I can’t seem to shake. Maybe you have too.

A few weeks ago I had some fairly simple day surgery that got all caught up in my heart condition/anesthesia protocols and I have had to wrap my head around some new realities. I don’t share this for sympathy, or as a request for medical advice. I’m just sharing it to acknowledge that as we age, our lives begin to show the wear and tear on our bodies. This is natural. We can get angry and fight it, or we can accept it and find grace to move forward with renewed appreciation for each and every day. I’m seeing this chapter in my life as an invitation to pay better attention to what I put into my body, how I move it and what I choose to do with my days.

Autumn in Vermont has been so very odd this year. The late frost in May, the flooding in July and the heavy rains again in August have taken their toll of the foliage, the harvests and our spirits. Our view, which is usually spectacular this time of year, has been more muted and the leaves have blown off the trees much sooner that usual.

Domestic and world events these past few weeks are enough to bring anyone to tears.

So, what to do, friends, with this melancholy?

I’ve been holding the word devotion close to my heart this year. As I thought about what to write about here, I thought perhaps I could reflect on little things this fall. A devotion to little things. And I’ll take my cue from one of my favorite quotes, via Bread and Puppet Theater.

THAT SIMPLE-LIGHT MAY RISE OUT OF COMPLICATED DARKNESS

For instance, I had a few pieces of jewelry that I have not been wearing because they were broken. I finally pulled out my pliers and fixed two bracelets. The simple pleasure I got from repairing those old favorites was so fun! I moved on to sewing some patches on old pj’s and doing some mending. Then I organized a drawer in the kitchen. Today we harvested carrots from the gardens, and I set the Hopi black sunflower heads out on the three season porch to dry. We brought some apples in from the yard. I scrubbed the front door mat and draped it over the deck railing to dry. I wrote some snail mail. I cut some holes in a cardboard box for the cats to play in.

I have not created world peace. But I have created a renewed sense of peace in my home. I have pulled myself back from the edge of melancholy and now I have fresh energy to move forward in a more productive way. I’ve made space for possibilities.

So, for the next bit, I’ll be devoted to little things here. I’ll share ideas and small projects to cultivate hope, to bring light to the darkness.

And if you have some ideas, dearest readers, please share them here in the comments, or send me a message. xo

in the midst of the equinox

Have I lost track of something/someone that I would like to reconnect with?

Are there things I’ve carried with me that I can set down and leave behind?

What brand new experience might I want to try?

How about you, dearest readers? What things might you consider as we step from one season into another? Are you able to make space to ponder?

And thank you, each and every one of you who left a thoughtful comment on my last post. I so appreciated them! I may share a few more peeks into our trip in the future, as they seem appropriate. Lots of inspiration there, for sure!

Be sure to look up at the sky some night, the constellations are sliding along the horizon, and changing places with one another. xo

the kids thought we might never come home...

My two brothers and their partners joined Batman and I on a two week adventure to Scotland. We had never traveled together as adults. It’s odd, but it feels like if I try to write much about it, it will lose its magic and wonder and preciousness.

So here’s the briefest of context. We started out by self piloting a narrowboat on the Union Canal. We went through the Falkirk Wheel, the Falkirk Tunnel and over an aqueduct on our three day journey.

Then we spent a night in Oban on our way to the Isle of Skye.

We had three days on the Isle of Skye, quite a gorgeous place.

Then on to a week at a self catering cottage in Rothiemurchus, at the heart of the Cairnhorns National Park. (I squealed with delight when I saw Hannah Nunn’s post “in the pines” just a few days before our departure.)

The weather was absolutely amazing. We spent our last day in Edinburg, where rain finally caught up with us. We had fretted a bit about our return flight due to the hurricane, but the travel elves kept us safe.

along the Quiraing walk.

We spent as much time outdoors as we could, walking, hiking, birding, catching up with one another’s lives along the way.

We got takeaway, we dined in pubs and fine restaurants and had picnics on the trail. We cooked and baked in our wee kitchens. We drank “whiskey and wine” and I had so much delicious fish!

I’ll remember the misty mornings along the canal, where I fell asleep at night to the swaying of the water at our moorings and all of the lush green foliage cascading over the canal banks. I’ll remember the cows grazing and the amber bales of fresh cut hay in the fields. I’ll remember the lovely folks who biked and walked along the tow paths, many with sweet dogs, ready to say “hiya!” as we passed one another. And chatting out by the tiller, with whoever was piloting the boat at the time.

I’ll remember the hard, rocky hikes with the totally-worth-it-views at the end. I’ll remember the taste of cold water when I need to stop and catch my breath along the trail. I’ll remember just gazing at the horizon or tilting my head to the sky, exhaling and being fully present, over and over again.

I’ll remember the soft pine needles underfoot in the ancient forests, the scent of freshness and decay all rolled into one…earthiness. The rocks and the moss and the ferns and the lichen and the birds. The trees. The trees. The trees. And the lochs.

And the fun of having days and days with Batman and my brothers and their partners.

What a gift. What a gift.

xo

a teaser...

Safely home, tucked into my very own bed, a bit of sleep and then up and restless and brewing tea in the dark. My Circadian rhythm has me back in Scotland. In my little bits of sleep I dreamed of moss and ferns and tall trees and lochs and gravel paths and canals and of being wrapped in the freshest of scents. I have lived in the midst of magic and I hope I won’t ever forget what it felt like…

a summer mini series:: part six:: pausing

Our sunflowers are late to bloom, but here they come!

I’m taking September’s invitation to set back and breathe in every precious moment. I won’t be posting here for a few weeks. Here are a few of my current faves to keep you company while I’m away.

An enduring fave, Hannah Nunn.

Her friend, Sarah Mason.

And her friend, Alice Fox.

Also, Kate at Foxslane.

Be well, friends.

breathe, hope, notice, invite, love, create, wonder, celebrate

xo