when we were young

For me, it's impossible to think of Vermont in the summertime without thinking of my friend Sophie and the zillions of hours we spent barefoot in fields, scavenging in the forests: generally completely unattended. We gathered twigs and branches, rocks and ferns, leaves and moss, imagining and constructing tiny houses and villages in tree trunks and shady hills. I don't know how much actual time we spend doing this, but my kid memory is full of these tiny architectural designs.

Like building sand castles there's something that I still love about pulling tiny bits of the world together to make a little home even if only for imaginary things.

Last weekend, Drew built a raised bed, and there was a large gap at the bottom which I was going to fill with a little stone wall.  I went into the woods with a big orange bucket ready to rustle up rocks, but within moments I was filling it with long branches and moss instead. This is how it goes. Moss, branches, ferns and me for the rest of the afternoon, 31 going on 7. Completely in heaven.

liking lichen

In early April before the flowers open on the forest floor, lichen is the real delicacy.

I'm not sure the simile is perfect, but on one of my late afternoon traipses through the woods, I decided lichen is to mushrooms what lace is to fabric.

I like all of the above, but I find lace and lichen particularly fetching. Tiny creations of intricate design.

and the color is always that perfect cool gray to blue to green.

paper trees

find a fallen birch. peel off a loop of bark. write someone a note.

 
 these are all from trees behind our house. all I had to do was slow down.

fields into fabrics

This morning I had a nice long call with Sophie, my best friend from newly-born-day three. My memories of being young are flooded with memories of me and Sophie - the back yards and mossy forests of Vermont. We were wild and curious and lucky enough to be surrounded with art.  Projects filled our days, our thoughts and our living rooms.

I know, talking about Vermont childhoods with those born elsewhere can usher in waves of eye-rolling. We didn't have perfect early lives by any stretch, but we had rich playgrounds; a thick underbrush of finely crafted stories, homemade characters and sweet chilly streams.
It was hard not to be nurtured.

I recently finished a swaddling blanket for a friend who is due any minute now(!) and it reminded me of how much I love the fabrics of Heather Ross.

I found Heather's fabrics a few years back and fell in love. They're whimsical and baby soft and were born from her early days at West Hill, Vermont. I never regret having a great stash around.

I didn't think about fabric design until recently. Now, in the woods behind our house, it's easy to get lost remembering what branches, moss and lichen looked like to seven year old me and wanting immediately to capture it. Once last month I brought my camera and began to chronicle.

Happy Monday afternoon, I've decided this week, the beginning of April's lamb-like days, will serve as a week-long forest study. Starting with birchbark maybe, or lichen.