When I arrived at the Boulder Sewing Circle, there were nine women and one man sitting in a haphazard circle, the kind a Kindergartener might draw, all engaged in unique and colorful forms of sewing. I was about to discover how custom-fitted the sewing was to the sewer.
To the right of the entrance sat Hopi, folding away her embroidery because she’d brought the wrong glasses. Even though she couldn’t see well enough to accomplish anything, she chose to stay, content to visit. Next to her, by the window for better light, sat Cindy, diligently cross-stitching a baby’s quilt she’d started years ago and was now making consistent headway on with these monthly meetings. Each outing gave her a respite from caring for her menagerie of goats and fowl and household responsibilities. Every once in a while, Cindy entertained the group with a story.
“Too bad Sally isn’t here. I remember her showing me a green dress she’d started for her little girl, Marybeth. She could finally get it done in this group.”
“Isn’t Marybeth 40 years old now?” another joined in. “Maybe Sally can finish it for her granddaughter.” And everyone cackled.
Continuing around the edge, I saw Jared, the lone male, un-flummoxed by the odds. He was intently watching a YouTube video with his phone propped up next to the sewing machine where he sat. He had thin waffle fabric cut into phone-size, geometric mint and gray shapes sitting on the machine cabinet in front of him.
“What are you making?” I asked, unprepared for the amazing story he would share.
“I’m sewing two beanies.”
“Oh, good for you.” That seemed nice.
But then he continued, “I’m leaving Friday for New Zealand for a month. I need warm headwear.”
Now I was intrigued. He kept sharing. “It took me five years to complete the 2653 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada through California, Oregon, and Washington. Nobody hikes it straight through due to the snow, so by walking 20 miles a day for a month each year for five years, I was able to complete it.”
“Do you sew other stuff besides beanies?” I innocently wondered. That led to pictures of his other backpacking equipment. Jared quickly discovered how crucial it was to have the lightest possible gear while backpacking. The cost to purchase it was almost prohibitive, so Jared began making his own. “The fabric costs pennies on the dollar; besides, I needed a hobby.” As though backpacking wasn’t hobby enough.
He proceeded to share pictures of his tent, a plethora of fanny packs in all colors and prints (his personal favorite item to sew), and many stuff sacks. The funniest pictures were of him making a down-baffled wearable sleeping bag for cold days of hiking and frigid nights. Tufts of down floated throughout the room where he’d been sewing it. “Don’t do it that way,” he laughed. “I’ve learned a lot.”
Jared’s next adventure is the Te Araroa Trail in New Zealand which weaves through two islands. He expects to have completed it in three years, hiking 500-700 miles during his month off of managing Annie’s Place, a Bed and Breakfast in Boulder. Each successive year, he will resume where he left off the previous year.
To Jared’s right sat Rachel, who was crocheting adorable animals. Her newest project was a cute lizard. She’d cut her thumb the night before, and it hurt too much to crochet with, so, like Hopi, she sat and participated in the social bonding.
Next to Rachel, Jill showed us how she was knitting cable hats with one knitting needle connected through a tube to the other. Barbara was putting fringe on a soft green scarf she had crocheted. Cheyenne brought some mending where her belt loops had come undone, and next to her sat Kristen, Cheyenne’s grandmother, mending several blue tops.
“I was going to buy a new washing machine last year, but it seemed too expensive. Then the one I had started eating holes in all my tops so I finally bought a new one and now I have all these tops to mend,” she smiled. She held one up for all to see. “And the washing machine is more expensive this year!” We all chuckled with her, commiserating.
It was Angela’s birthday, and she chose to share it with her sewing circle friends. Angela was spinning wool from carded fibers to yarn on a drop spindle. She has enough fiber to spin for a hat or scarf if only there will be sewing circles for a few more years to get it all done. Gladys arrived after everyone else and began altering a pattern for slippers. Sue joined a little later without anything to sew. She just wanted to visit.
I sat at a table cutting out denim squares for a camp quilt, listening to the chit-chat of old and new friends, reminiscing, getting acquainted, and making plans. It was warm, homey, and satisfying. By the time we left two hours later, Jared had completed one of his beanies and modeled it for the rest of us. Almost everyone made some progress on their project, and those who didn’t, didn’t mind. The camaraderie was enough. No matter what we’d brought, we accomplished stitching our hearts together.
– by K. Munson
Feature image caption: Barbara puts fringe on her crocheted scarf. As people in the room stitch their projects, they’re also stitching hearts together. Courtesy of Karen Munson.
Karen M. Munson – Escalante
Karen is an associate editor at The Byway. She is fascinated and fulfilled by all things involved with writing. After graduating from BYU, she taught English at Escalante High School for three years. She pursues opportunities to write and support others in their writing. Karen has published three books with four more scheduled to be released in 2024. She and Reed are the parents of ten children and the grandparents of 35 grandchildren.
Karen is the author of two columns in The Byway, A New Twist on Healthy Mental Habits and Lyle’s Corner.