Making things, even when we don't need to make them, is important.
Cloth is a deceptively humble material to work with, it lacks the status of paint or marble or metal. Yet, it is cloth that receives us at birth and covers us at death. It is hard to find a moment in a day when we are not using cloth in some form.
I believe that it is important to have around us things which are made by ourselves or by people we know. Handmade matters.
There is an intangible but important quality contained in an object made by hands we know, or in an object with a story we know. We feel comforted, grounded, more secure, under a quilt made by family or friend, better satisfied when we eat homemade soup or bread. We feel continuity and membership when we make things we remember our mothers or grandmothers making. Every spring I feel my grandmother strongly when I plant seeds. Every week or two I see my mothers hands kneading dough as I make bread. I feel where I came from.
Oddly, or not oddly, this same sense of connection and membership also happens when we engage in hand making things that our own families didn't make also. The first time I sat at a spinning wheel I felt linked to all the generations of women who sat to spin the wool that would clothe their families. Making things, even when we don't need to make them, is important. It's also simply fun.
Owner A threaded Needle