Lotuswei and the Flower Lounge

Sometimes I get to be apart of something magical. When Robin connected me to Katie Hess of Lotuswei, I knew this was one of those times. She was gathering people together, to share the joy of flowers, meditation and ancient wisdom. The group that would be guiding the experience needed shawls. Meditation shawls, expansive, dyed to the colors they are called to. BIG swaths of raw silk, to wrap around them, to hug their spirits and shoulders. 

It was an honor to be a part of all of this beauty. 

Thank you, dear ones, for letting me join, and for allowing me to share these photos. 

The Flower Lounge

Flower Lounge *Love* 

Flower Lounge *Love* 

As you explore Katie’s site, be sure to listen to her podcast! It’s now quite a favorite of mine  

Flower Lounge *Love* 

Flower Lounge *Love* 

Shawls hanging to dry, waiting to be sent to their new homes

Shawls hanging to dry, waiting to be sent to their new homes

Thoughts on Death a Year Later

Right before Megs moved away, she held a writing workshop. I went, because I want to write more, and I wanted and needed to spend time with her and her guidance. 

This is one of the writing prompts:

What I can’t tell you is {...} But what I CAN tell you is {...} 

This is what came out, from heart to mind, from pen to paper...

My reflections on Kelly Call's death, a year ago today. How grief has affected my day-to-day, missing her every single one of them.

What I can’t tell you is what happens when you die. But I can tell you what it’s like to still be alive. What it feels like, to live with two weights, one on each shoulder. One is life, and the goodness that resides in the everyday beauty. The other is grief. Maybe it’s more like wearing a yoke, or a vise that randomly seezes and squeezes one’s heart. Like a back spasm (I can tell you about those, now, too). It takes your breath way. To realise that your best friend’s early body is no longer walking around, eating, cracking bad jokes, laughing and crying and yelling into the void next to you. 

I can tell you how it feels, to imagine her holding your hand and hearing her voice in your memory. How shattering it can be. At the same time, life is good- like really, fucking grand, this life. Love is strong, the house is getting better and better and the kitten has brokered a feisty peace between the older two cats. Food so good you cry still happen. Getting stuck in an orchard field, picking apples you two were always talking about picking- that happens too. Crying over your fish & chips happens, as you try to sort out how to renovate a kitchen without your best friend. The woman who became your source of wisdom, as it revolved around people and food; how food is love and the kitchen is her, and love is the kitchen.

And there are too many goddamn sinks to choose from. 

And then you connect the dots from a different angle and realize another dear friend builds houses and can help narrow your choices down. So you order the sink. You sit with the bitterness of missing, as it blends with the honey-sweetness of reconnection and deepening friendships. 

Actually, you do that a lot. A best friend dying by a proverbial lightning strike means living with the duality of deep dark pain of love, and the shinning brightness of love all in one breath. It means getting your paperwork in order. Grief creates a twilight- or a dawn, if you’re a morning person like me (and mourning, too). A dawn that lets you see the night, and a sunrise to remind you to KEEP LIVING- and to live well. 

That is the way to honor the dead. To live well and invite them into your heart. They’ll come out in your work, art, writing, bathing, cooking, goal-listing. Sometimes they’ll send a warning shot, other times those fucking beautiful souls will pop you right on the heart asking for a cup of tea as you drive home from work. They have all the time in the world {and we do not}

This is what I can tell you. There is life after death, but I can’t tell you if there is life after dying. I am still here, living on the earth without them, without her, by my side. But they are still here, and I will turn to them for guidance and ask questions with answers I can hear them say. This is goodness. This is hard, this what living fully must be. Pain and Joy all spun together in one thread. 

I can tell you- it’s ok to miss them, I’ve missed her every day this year. I’ll keep missing her, (especially when I bake something really excellent). It’s ok to set aside how much you miss their earthly souls until it stops you in your tracks with the foreverness of it all. It is all okay, you will be okay, too. Let yourself feel whatever is bubbling up to the surface. Don’t push them down, if it can be helped. Bring them back up when you feel you’re in a safe place to say hello and feel it, the hurting honor of loving someone who has died. FEEL them, they are yours, no one else’s, and no one else can tell you what to do (not me, that’s for sure) or how to work through it. There is so much beauty in owning your grief, whether it’s loud and screaming, or quiet and sighing. Let your life be beautiful, they want it to be beautiful. Let them come in, and listen to their guidance from the beyond. They still love you, just as much as you love them. 

I can tell you I need to share these thoughts, so they’re out there in the world. Grief needs to be spoken about, not hidden away like something to be ashamed of. Grief is the badge we wear that echoes the love we feel for those who are gone. Death needs to be opened back up to the world, not closed off, all alone.

We’ll all die, someday. Let us live in love while we’re breathing. 

My sweet Kelly Call, you’ve been gone for a year. I don’t know how we’ve managed, but here we are, I wish you could come have some cake and see the kitchen. You’d love it. I miss you.



Work is Yarn, Yarn is Work

I work for Red Heart Yarn, and was able to lend a hand in making our booth stand out at a trade show this month. This is three colors of yarn, and didn't use up nearly as much yarn as I had expected... but I don't think I want to start hammering in anything for a while... I'm proud of my work, and am happy that I was able to combine my day job and art! 

We won the Island Booth Award! 

We won the Island Booth Award! 

Thanks to Carrie for snapping this for me! Hi Mom! 

Thanks to Carrie for snapping this for me! Hi Mom! 

It's on the list...

My dear friend Robin posted a map she'd made the other day, of the divine feminine creative cycle. (go find it on her social media accounts, her sites are well worth the time). She asked where we all landed within it and I found myself on the Bottom. A place of slowness, "dark around the edges" and low energy.

Her working points were sweetness in the dark- "rest, singe to the plants, express gratitude, honor other's work, review your own". So here I am, honoring her work, and lemme tell ya, it is mighty work. She and I have worked together for almost two- no... maybe three years? It feels like no time at all, and yet, like we've been dancing towards the truth for millennia. She's the real deal. 

The next point in the cycle is the Way Now. I can feel it coming, rolling gently like fog across a field. I'm ready to be curious, to move my body slowly, dancing in the thickness. I am ready for lists about lists, keeping track of what's interesting and where they might lead. The creative rabbit hole is a sacred place to land in.

I will keep this cycle close to my heart this year. A light to remind myself how to move forward, to get both stuck and unstuck. Stillness and movement have balancing virtues. I think this year is about diving deep into that dichotomy. 

creation and rest

delightful happiness and tearing grief

sweet and bitter

dark and light

color and neutral

wet and dry

whole and worn

warm and cold

Working with Robin, directly, or using the tools and light she helped me develop is always worth it. No matter how hard the work seems, the reward is always truth.




I’ve been experimenting in patchwork lately. It started as a way to use as much of the off-cut fabric as possible from the garments I’ve been making. It’s a double waste to do nothing with hand dyed fabric. I also wanted to make a new round of ornaments.

And so, patchwork pretties were made. But I found myself quickly fascinated with the puzzling together of colors and shapes, the same pleasure as a puzzle, but without any reference image. (Click on the images to see them bigger, if you’d like to get a closer look.)



They tie in closely to my watercolors and I have no idea what to do with the panels made so far, but have some ideas... I’d love to know what you’d do with them!

Last night

I’m sitting in the studio, listening to Shawn’s music as he reorganizes his massive record collection. I’m fighting a cold that’s trying to move into my head. Fidgit is pestering me on and off for affection, snuggle breaks are my favorite breaks. A scarf has been woven in a day. It feels good to have it off the loom, to have the loom empty, ready for a new project tomorrow, in the new year. 

Most of my work has been in patchwork these past weeks, well, that and a new pair of thick wooly socks. The patchwork is a puzzle with no picture. This medium reminds me of watercolors, moving color and shape around until it’s pleasing. Adding details and large swaths as needed, to keep things interesting. I am looking forward to where this path of sewing will take me, to see where it intersects with painting and everything else. 

Tonight is it for the year. The last night. I hope if finds you warm, safe, and content.  I hope you know when to rest, when to stoke the fire in your belly that drives you towards the truth. May the year be peaceful, and may you have the strength to carry your burdens, and to put them down when it’s right to.  

If you find yourself with different ‘new’ year anniversaries as the calendar year unfolds, give room for celebration, for quiet contemplation.  

May your year be happy, dear ones!



Thirty Four

Today is a marker for another year. Thirty four.

There are so many starts in year, endings too. So many anniversaries of things that fill hearts to bursting, and those that lay them out cold and low. The light increases, all the same.

I find myself content, and dusted with a deep missing of those who passed away. I missed my Kelly arriving to our party early so as to have the best opportunity to eat the sausage balls Shawn makes. I felt my heart full to bursting having our friends fill our home. I am so lucky to have found these humans, generous, caring, quirky. Everyone celebrating their own strangeness.

Grief and birthdays are an interesting mix. I walk with firmer steps on the path of making and sharing. I am feeling closer to the truth of me, and will keep stoking that flame. The new year is full of the past, and just as full as what's to come. The struggle is to stay present, and not get tied up with thinking to long, to hard. When I find myself feeling this way, I know I have a bevy of souls to reach out to, to ask for help from. Each one is a gift, every day.

And so, to sum up all this birthday pondering, my dear ones;

I love you.

Thank you for being you, and letting me be me.

Slow Fashion October

With the first week of October over, I realized that I had unintentionally joined in to Karen Templer's Slow Fashion month. I've been wearing at least one piece of me-made clothing every day this week! Below you can see the photos- as I realized too late that I was wearing handmade a lot this week I don't have any outfit photos. But it happened, for real. 

I love knowing that I can make it a whole week wearing my 'own' clothes. Now that I've done it without trying to, I want to do it even more! First things first- I need to clear out a lot of old clothes that I've been hanging on to for too long. Things that don't fit in my wardrobe either by size or style. It is a task I've been putting off in favor of more exciting things- refreshing the studio, for example. :) 

If anyone's interested, here's how I wore all of these:

Blue raw silk Dress No 2.- rose belt (made for our wedding) leggings, grey boots

Black Tee Dress- leggings, saddle tan shoes

Sweater- tank top, pencil skirt, leggings, motorcycle-style boots

Pink-Black Karla Dress- Black archer shirt (I really need to photo that thing), leggings, new black boots

Green raw silk Dress No.2- Jeans, motorcycle-style boots


I took myself to the mountains of Virginia. In search of an orchard that I hoped would be quiet- no doughnuts, no hayrides. Just mountains and trees, with a soundtrack of bugs and heavy fruit gently dropped into buckets. Peace and quiet and a wide sky. I missed Kelly the whole way there, there were so many late summers we talked about hopping up the mountains to go apple picking... so I went by myself, so she could be there too. 

Oh friends, I found the place. Simple, just unkept enough.

It was cool in the shade and warm in the sun. The golden delicious apples were just that, and the orchard owner couldn't have been kinder, or more passionate about his apples. 

I'll be back next year.

Now... time to make some pies! 

Reflecting on Reflections

I've been noticing and being distracted by reflections lately. A lot of the time, especially in my studio. Maybe it's the new layout, but the light popping off my iron or loom as they move keep catching my eye. It's the corner-of-the-eye stuff. There one second, gone the next. 

I'm not sure what this new noticing is about, but maybe I do, deep down. 

I'll be keeping my eyes open, I'm doing my best to pay attention.