I’ve been spending a lot of my free time sewing lately. Or maybe I should say that I’ve been sewing all of the time and ignoring responsibilities in order to create my own free time.
I become addicted to crafts seasonally, like clockwork. Fall and winter are for knitting and spring and summer are for sewing.
Now – I realize that it’s not yet spring. Not even close. There’s literally a foot of snow outside my door right now and my normal sewing space is drafty and freezing and has a great view of the cold through the frost-covered windows. Not spring.
But I got an urge that I couldn’t tamp down. So I gathered up a bunch of patterns and fabric that is stuffed in my over-flowing craft closet and set to cutting out clothes. I cut and cut and cut, then I dragged my sewing machine and sewing box and all the thread I would need and camped myself at the dining room table and sewed everything I could.
And I am not a neat sewer. I’m not even sure if that is possible. There are pins hidden in the carpet and scraps of fabric and thread everywhere throughout the house – helped along by children who like to ‘assist’ me in my sewing adventures.
I’ve sewn dresses for me and dresses for my daughter. Pants for me, pants for both of my kids, and then more dresses. I’ve hemmed pants for my husband and made plans for more shirts and skirts and pants and shorts and maybe more dresses. Because I need to do it. Have to, even. With each new thing I sew I feel that much closer to warmth and sunshine and humid days. It’s like, spring is for sewing so it must be spring because I am sewing.
I don’t understand how my mind works, either. I do the same thing in winter with knitting because apparently just by the sheer weight of all the new things crafted with my own two hands I can change the weather.
And it’s not that I really want time to move much faster – especially with children who grow at an alarming rate and who will be driving and voting and moving out of the house before I can say “stop that.”
But seasons always get me anxious. There will be one day that is a sort of prologue to the coming changes – a cold and rainy September day or a mild and sunny day in February. And it sets my mind on a new course. For fall that means that everyone in my life will need all of the hand knits I can make.
And for spring, like now (almost), everyone in my life needs more shorts and tank tops and light pants. And dresses. Lots and lots of dresses.
So I will make them. I will take breaks to feed people and perhaps do some coloring or puzzle working and maybe even actual work-working. But then it’s back to sewing.
I’ve got people to clothe.
*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on February 25, 2015.