Fueling the craft fever

Something happens to me in October. Some of you might call it catching the fall bug, but I call it fall-obsessed.

It goes like this. I wake up to a smell in the air. I step outside and feel the chill. My mind starts to spin with all the ideas for scarves and hats and mittens I should be knitting. I start dreaming of that scarf I’ve had planned for years for a slightly random friend in Copenhagen with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. (The combo is something like oak brown / walnut brown / white / delft blue.) I drive around, my mind totally preoccupied with how to layer the girls warmly under the vintage muslin dresses I’m thinking of sewing them, trimmed with cotton lace and wooden buttons. Forget that I’ve never sewn a dress before. I picture matching lace-trimmed pantaloons peeking out from under the hems.

This is how my mind goes.

I want to dump pumpkin spice in everything, to the girls’ delight. Cookies baking one afternoon, cupcakes the next, apple pie the day after. The laundry can wait; I have to print seasonal labels for all my mason jars, for when I stuff them with all the ingredients for morning cinnamon apple muffins, or spooky brownies. Half of the jars are filled with homemade bath salts, scented heavy with vetiver & ginger and tossed in coconut oil.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if someone will mix them up by accident.

Maybe this all seems so insane to me because I’m still surrounded by boxes. There’s at least twenty around me as I type this, and I know I’m still in some kind of denial about opening them. When they’re all gone, we’ll be technically (TECHNICALLY!) settled here. The thought alone makes my throat close up. I don’t want to be here, and I’m escaping into my wild crafting dreams to make up for all the loss and grief in my household reality.

The girls want to be flower fairies for Halloween, and I know I’m going overboard with the planning for their elaborate costumes. When I start looking for toddler dress forms on Amazon, or researching how to dye your own cloth with fruits and flowers, I suspect I’m getting to the edge of reason.

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