Campfire Morning
Autumn has always been my favorite season for camping. Chilly mornings, warm sunlight, brilliant leaves, and the quiet of a landscape preparing for winter inspired Campfire Morning, a hand-dyed yarn colorway that carries a little of those memories in every skein.
A Batt Came to the Spinning Group
I went to my fiber guild’s spinning group expecting an afternoon of spinning and conversation. What I didn’t expect was to see someone arrive with one of my art batts! For once, I got to watch something I had made become yarn in someone else’s hands.
I Kept Making It
A year ago, I opened an Etsy shop and then told my family what I had done. The morning after the Shenandoah Valley Fiber Festival, I’m looking back at a year of wool, color, uncertainty, community and learning to trust my gut again. I don’t think one year means I made it. I think it means I kept making it.
This Is What I Made
As the Shenandoah Valley Fiber Festival gets closer, possibility starts giving way to reality. A reflection on quiet prep panic, the endless possibilities of making, and learning to see what our hands have already made instead of everything we still could.
The Threads Between Us
What happens when we take our making out into the world? A reflection on knitting in airports, the conversations that begin between strangers, and the quiet ways making can make us visible to one another.
Harvesting Inspiration
Fall has always felt less like an ending and more like a beginning. A reflection on overlapping seasons, harvesting inspiration, and the colors, memories, and experiences we carry with us into the things we haven't made yet.
Sometimes Rest Is Enough
There is deep satisfaction in making and doing, but our worth was never meant to be measured by how much we produce. A reflection on work, creativity, and allowing rest to simply be rest.
The Friction of Fiber
Fiber needs friction to hold together, but it also needs room to move. A reflection on growth, uncertainty, and learning to recognize when resistance is protecting us and when it's simply asking us to loosen our grip.
The Anatomy of a Stash
Why do we feel guilty over something that began with inspiration? A quiet reflection on creativity, possibility, and discovering that the "right" stash is the one that fits the maker.
The Art of Being Present
I didn't set out to practice being present. I simply walked outside to cut a handful of lavender. What followed was a quiet reminder that sometimes presence isn't something we achieve—it arrives when we stop striving long enough to notice what has been there all along.
The Rhythm of Spinning
The same advice that once improved my spinning technique eventually became a gentle reminder to make space for creativity, balance, and the simple joy of creating for its own sake.
From Scratch: What Dyeing Wool Taught Me About Precision
Looking back at my early days of dyeing wool, I realized I had approached color the same way I approached cooking from scratch. It took one conversation and a better understanding of precision to change the way I think about creativity.
The Practice of Consistency
Creativity often gets the spotlight, but consistency is what quietly supports it. A reflection on balancing experimentation with repeatable practice, both in the studio and in everyday life.
Woven Into Every Stitch
While making by hand, we often think we're creating cloth. Perhaps we're also creating a quiet record of our lives, one stitch, one row, and one memory at a time.
The Color of Summer
Summer's colors arrive gradually, shaping the landscapes around us and often inspiring the fibers we create. A reflection on nature, color, and the stories hidden within both.
And Then We Gather...
And Then We Gather
Exploring what comes after remembrance by understanding how stories, skills, and traditions are carried forward through community, shared knowledge, and the things we make by hand.
Creative Detours
Some of my favorite ideas began as creative detours I once mistook for failure.
A Festival of Firsts
Crossroads Fiber Festival was a festival of firsts: my first time vending, the festival’s first year, and my first time talking to strangers all day about the wooly little world I love so much.
Cinnamon Rolls...I Mean Rolags
A quiet reflection on rolags, color blending, and why tiny wool clouds still feel a little magical to me.