It may not look like much, but this quirky little sewing space already feels like home to me. We’ve been in our summer cottage for a week now and it’s starting to settle into a routine. Adam is off on a business trip, I’m home sewing for the wedding. It’s taken a bit longer to get to routine than I thought it would – at first there was unpacking, and then time catching up with all the to-do’s that got dropped in the rush of the move (turns out you still have to pay your bills, even if you’re busy), and then a couple days spent on my butt on the couch decompressing (at least that’s what I’m calling a couple days of the blahs).
I picked the sun room, what was probably a sleeping porch when the house was built in the 1800’s, as my sewing space. There’s a whole wall of windows looking over greenery, gardens, and the water. I hear constant bird chatter, sometimes a rooster crowing, and the occasional car driving down a gravel road. It is such a marked contrast from San Francisco city living that I catch myself staring out the window, drinking in the calm and beauty.
On either end there is a single bed, pushed up under the eave. I turned one into my storage space with my bins of fabric, basket of knitting supplies, and suitcase of notions (all dramatically pared down for the summer, of course).
The other twin bed is my cutting table. Not the most ergonomic, but it’s only for a couple months and certainly better than the floor. You can see I already have piles of patterns pushed to the side as I flit from one muslin to another. I left the pillow on the bed in an attempt to keep the cat from sleeping on my patterns (which has only been moderately successful so far).
On the back wall is a little table with my WIP bins, the tiny stack of books I brought and my ironing board. I’d like to pretend that I use my ironing board for ironing, but usually it’s half full with WIPs, as it is at the moment. I’m very meticulous and organized in the rest of the house, but my sewing space often looks hit by a whirlwind.