Sewing... and Other Wonderful Things

Wanted:
a needle swift enough
to sew this poem into a blanket.
-Charles Simic

There's a great deal of sewing and cutting and sewing and cutting going on in Freeman House this week. Scrumptious sewing with sumptuous fabrics and swift fingers and a speedy machine. The projects are piling up, all new and soft and colorful. Scraps are everywhere. The cat's having a field day. As the windows squeak open and the fall-ish air whispers through, the rooms seem to be breathing again. They seem happy again. Comforting. Colorful.

There are several projects to tackle this Friday and weekend. The mammoth screen door needs re-screening. The flower beds weeded and turned to fall. The dining room finished. Leaves raked. Yup. Already. My weekend is split between my to-do list, an inn-sitting commitment, and a slumber party Friday night with my girls. My Sunday School girls. I've promised them a pool and pajama party before it gets cold, so tomorrow's it.


But that's tomorrow. Today is sewing and leaf raking and cupcake packing. (I think, after all, that cupcakes are perhaps the most wonderful food. And so incredibly inexpensive compared to store-bought goodies. Today I've used a plastic baggie to pipe on frosting, sprinkled the frosting with 3 tablespoons sugar mixed with 1 drop food coloring (red, in this case), and instantly have pink-glittered cupcakes. Done, cheap, and delicious.) Bring on the girls.

...And more sewing. There's something about picking up a needle as soon as the temperature begins to drop that just feels so... right... somehow. And there's something about sleeping beneath a handmade quilt that's so... settling... somehow. Like sleeping under pretty history. Or a poem. Sleeping beneath a quilt in the fall is like sleeping beneath a well-loved poem....