it was one of those perfect days. the sun was dappled through the trees. the air was warm but not hot. and the studio was drenched in light. but i set up my little workshop on the porch. i spent the afternoon sewing baby quilt tops. the big maple shading the work table. the scent of spirea and peonies blowing past every little while. i took photos of my outdoor sewing room from the back window. and my indoor sewing room looking in the same window from the porch. and then photos of quilts hanging on my rope clothesline to list on etsy. i had lots of little thoughts that would have been the basis of a much better entry tonight. but i can only think of how much i loved working today. and how fortunate i am to love my work so hard.

i'm wrapped up in a quilt. the whole family is actually. tom has gone to bed where a quilt is laid across the bed, giving the perfect weight to the duvet, winter and summer. edgar and stella are curled up together on the couch with a quilt thrown over them to help them sleep through the night. and i'm sitting with the computer on my lap under a quilt tucked around my feet and pulled up to my chin. i didn't find my way home until after 10 tonight and although i'd rather be reading right now, i only had the brain power to stare at the computer screen while i snacked on grape tomatoes and tzatziki. i'm looking forward to a full day in the studio tomorrow, making new quilts to add to the shop for mother's day. we've been working so steadily at the house that i'll need to build my sewing momentum again. but i'm eager to start compiling little colorful squares, layering them in just the right order to patch together into a quilt top. each one is always a bit of a surprise as they take shape from piles of squares, to a top, then adding the back and then finally the edge so it's fully dimensional. a surprise, yes. but also, each one is consistently warm and fresh and smiling.

it seems that my studio is my own grown up playroom that is stocked with enough potential activities to keep me busy for an unlimited amount of time. i have walls of fabric and a room of paper and scissors and glue and sewing machines. and floating above all the busy-ness, i have 'the waltons'. they are as much a part of the process that sends quilts and journals and napkins and pillowslips out into the world as the sewing machine or the paper room. the soundtrack of my little workshop that pulses through the work is the story of a depression-era family living in rural virginia. i love the waltons. i remember watching its first season as a child. and it's hold on me is the same now, almost 40 years later. i love loving certain members of the family, especially grandpa. and i love despising john-boy.....complete with rolling my eyes and sometimes yelling at the screen. i defend myself laughingly with everyone who walks in and chuckles as i'm forced to pause my constant loop of waltons dvds. well yesterday i discovered a soulmate in 7 year old naomi. she and her mom were heading out shopping and dropped in to say hi. but naomi got sucked into a season 7 episode.....when maryellen's husband curt is killed in pearl harbor. naomi ended up staying with me while her mom went shopping. we watched 3 episodes while i continued to sew. she didn't get bored and only asked me to explain the characters. it was a lovely rainy afternoon.

november. rain blurred windows and edgar refusing to leave the porch. with our canopy gone, it makes the walk between houses during the rain, even rainier. edgar likes to use the canopy to do his business without getting wet during summer rains and i just love the luxury of it. but now, the leaves are gone and we are open to the sky. bare branches. no coverage. the branches are beautiful. wet bark gray silhouettes against the sky.

i sewed all day. surrounded with colorful fabrics, quilts and napkins and aprons. meagan gave me steamed milk for my tea at lunch. and of course, i watched the waltons. more of the same tomorrow. i love the routine of sewing that has happened the past few weeks. it is my grandmother's 105th birthday today. always a day i notice and remember. i think of her so often, and when i sew it seems she's with me. i miss her alot and feel so fortunate to have spent so much time with her.

sewing all day gives my mind a little quiet. and all the intricate word images that swim in there begin to sort themselves out. i have collections in my brain, much like the collections that i gather around me everywhere. piles of words and ideas and images and details that when organized may fold into the story that winds around my bones and whispers it's fragmented visions into the clatter of the sewing machine. the story is brewing. i watch it now wondering if all the blank parts will find their fat and give me their secrets. and wonder if i'll ever find the discipline and the courage to give the words away. so as the story thickens i've been considering bringing parts of it to the blog. i don't know how, but maybe i can give it a chance here, a pound at a time.