The George Winston Season

is coming

As we grind our way through the remains of summer, I’m finding myself sliding into a deep nesting mode. Lemon wax melts made by my friend Monica disseminate the scent of clean as I vacuum my battered rug, freshen the sheets weekly, manage my tiny kitchen so there’s always counter space and a free sink. In April and May all I wanted was to hike the hills near my house. Now I’m back inside inhaling lavender-scented dryer balls and listening to George Winston on the spotify.¹ And I love it.

Where I grew up on the east coast, I recall fall as a wet, chilly affair. Sure, it has moments of nice-enough, but what I remember most is 40º rain and soggy oak leaves underfoot. I’d take a day like that right now, though not a whole season. But here in Western Montana, fall is the most glorious time of the year. I know I’ve written of it before, and if you are lucky enough to live here, you know what I mean: shiny bluebird days, chilly mornings, the resplendence of the maples up and down the blocks, and golden cottonwoods along every creek bottom. I’m ready for the change, after weeks of heat, hazy smoky skies, and terrifying storms.² The shift to earlier darkness has become noticeable as well, and I’ve just replaced the batteries in our townhouse post lights to mark the occasion.

In addition to cleaning, I have this irresistible urge to craft. Yes, “to craft” as a verb, which normally I hate, but in its kitschy usage here I embrace it. This is the season when I begin thinking about cross-stitch³ or perhaps finishing that crocheted blanket I was allegedly making for my mother. One of my intentions for 2024 was to complete four quilts. I did complete one in January, started another for my sister’s February birthday, and bought materials for a friend’s cancer care quilt. I’m 2/3 through the hand quilting on the sister’s and just hope I still have the pattern for the friend’s quilt. No sign of #4 yet and it’s already practically autumn!

Joan’s partially-quilted quilt.

I’ve also considered setting pavers under the patio chair where I sit daily. But that requires researching, shopping, digging, leveling, compacting, adding some kind of fabric barrier, placing the pavers, pouring and sweeping sand, and who knows what else. It’s too much — I don’t need a construction project, I need a skein of wool and some knitting needles.

Today is the first day I haven’t experienced an overhanging burden of grading left over from the Native American Studies for Teachers class I offered in June. There’s no directive to pull out the laptop and read through another teaching plan. The overhead shelf of burdens held in place by one remaining bracket and single dry wall screw partially embedded has lost some weight, and I’m glad about it. But sitting still is not my wont.

I think I bought an embroidery kit last fall. Maybe I’ll go look for that.

1. Don’t judge. Once when I was about 11 years old, my mom and I went into some bookstore where they were playing Winston’s December album over the speakers. She marched right up to the clerk and asked what it was, then bought it. I’ve had a soft spot for that album ever since.

2. Those of you in Missoula know what I mean. #stormof24 Not in Missoula? We had a thunderstorm a couple of weeks ago with straight-line winds topping out at 100 mph for upwards of 20 minutes. According to one source, 75% of Missoula’s urban forest was damaged or destroyed.

3. I’ve never cross-stitched in my life, but it’s never too late to learn, amirite?