S is for Summer

The weather is getting warmer here in Rhode Island; I think it’s safe to say that summer has officially arrived! Over the last weekend it was actually so hot in my house that I was sweating. As someone who is often cold, this means something.

As a child the summer was the best time of year because it meant no school for 3 whole months. We would go on our yearly vacations, spend countless hours outside, sleep in as late as we wanted, and didn't have to worry about anything. I miss those days; things were simpler, slower, sunnier. Perhaps I’m overly nostalgic and/or romantic, but those summers seemed to be like an iconic country song.

I can taste that honeysuckle
And it's still so sweet
When it grows wild
On the banks down at old Camp Creek
And it calls to me like a warm wind blowin' 

It's where I learned about livin'
Its where I learned about love
Its where I learned about working hard,
And having a little was just enough
It's where I learned about Jesus
And knowin' where I stand
You can take it or leave it
This is me
This is who I am
Give me a tin roof, a front porch, and a gravel road
And that's home to me, feels like home to me
- Little Big Town, "Boondocks" 

Growing up, my three sisters and I would play lots of imaginative, make-believe games outside. We made forts in the woods and pretend that we were the early American colonists and had to live off the land. We climbed trees pretending that there was a large tidal wave coming and we needed to get to higher ground. We jumped around our backyard playground pretending that the ground was lava. As we got older, we spent our summers taking walks down on the farm and in the woods, swimming at the pool, having bon fires and cookouts, laying out on our beach towels in the yard hoping to get a tan, going out to the movies, and doing a lot of babysitting.

So this summer, Timberleigh Baby has a bunch of new bright and colorful blankets. Pinks like gorgeous summer sunsets. Blues like the clear ocean water. Woodland animals like those that would roam our farmland.

All of these blankets (and more!) are now available on my Etsy shop!

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Little Red Boots & Winnie the Pooh

Every little kid seems to have some material thing that they love so much that they won’t let it go. This item comes to signify comfort or safety, so that they won’t go anywhere without it. When it’s lost, they will cry for hours until you find it. And forget about sharing it with anyone else.

This may be a particular toy, stuffed animal, blankie, passifier, or article of clothing. You may still even remember that one object that brought you so much joy as a child. Sometimes it’s a phase that you grow out of, sometimes we cherish these items even when we are adults because they remind us of when we were children.

For my youngest sister “B”, it was her red rain boots and Winnie the Pooh blanket.

There was a time in B’s life, when she was about 4-5, that she absolutely loved her red rain boots. She wouldn’t wear any other shoe. She would wear these red boots with jeans, sweat pants, dresses, everything. No matter how much we pleaded, she wouldn’t take them off. It’s almost impossible to reason with a child when they are unconditionally attached to something. Eventually she grew out of them and she couldn’t wear them anymore. But even today, when I think of B as a little girl I think of her in those red rain boots. If I can find a picture, I'll be sure to post it.

When my oldest brother was born, he received a pristine new quilt with a pattern of Winnie the Pooh. My mother used it for all of my siblings and B was the last one to have it. By this time, the colors had faded and the batting had gotten a little lumpy. But B loved this blanket. She would take it everywhere. She needed to have it for naptime, bedtime, or when there was a storm and she was scared. However, unlike with her rain boots, this wasn’t a habit that she quickly grew out of. To this day, even though she is now in college, B still has her Winnie the Pooh blanket on her bed.

When I make blankets for Timberleigh Baby, I think back to that old tattered Winnie the Pooh blanket. (I wish I could still find the fabric!) I want my blankets to have a story, to be treasured. I don’t expect them to be heirlooms, or passed down from generation to generation like some exquisite piece of jewelry. I don’t even expect that people will remember who made it. But I do hope that these blankets will provide some amount of comfort or joy to a child who needs it. And someday when a mother is recounting a story to her then-grown child she’ll say, “Remember that blanket you used to have? It was your favorite.”

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