This past spring, I learned there would be a Mindful Making Retreat about an hour away from me, co-taught by Katrina Rodabaugh and Meg McElwee. I’ve made a number of Meg’s patterns this spring and summer and have been gradually embracing the idea of slowing my sewing down and making it more of a practice than a drive.

That has been a process.  My typical M.O. is to bring all my other responsibilities to a halt, let my children run feral, and whip up a top or a pair of shorts as quickly as possible. I like to have a decent fabric stash so when my unpredictable mojo shows up, I don’t have to waste any time waiting to get started. All the fabric is already pre-washed and pressed, and there are enough hunks of a yard or three that I have some options to choose from.

I don’t want to make a bunch of stuff that I wear once and then don’t come back to. I’ve been more thoughtful about my fabric choices since I’ve been sewing again. I’m getting better at steering more towards neutrals that coordinate with each other. I signed up for the retreat hoping to keep the ball rolling with my sewing, but to take it in a slightly different direction. I wanted to be more intentional with my sewing and make more meditative and less pressured.

I knew I’d be driving to and from the retreat each day, so I wanted the drive to be part of the retreat as well.

I hadn’t decided how to do that yet when I talked with the Chaplain on our walk the night before the retreat. I mentioned there was an author I was interested in, but hadn’t gotten any of her books yet.  It happened to be one of the few times that the Chaplain’s and my reading interests intersected, because he had one of her audio books. I loaded it up on my phone when we got home from our walk with the intention of treating myself to it on my commute to and from the retreat.

I was a little sensitive about the sustainability aspect of the retreat because I often feel like I’m not doing enough when it comes to sustainability. I quickly become guilt ridden when I think about fabric types and sourcing, and the volume of clothes I’ve made.I LIKE the convenience of fabric.com and the fantastic drape of rayon. I don’t like to think about whether my fabric is good for the environment because the types of fabric I’m comfortable using are already kind of limited (to woven fabrics) and if it turns out some of them are unsustainable, then I have even less to work with. If I buy the nice/organic stuff, I’m paying $20/yard, and then sewing becomes a Really Expensive Way to relax.

I have so many kids, and it’s important to do as much as I can to be a responsible steward so that they won’t be in an underground locker laying on a metal sofa talking to their robo-therapist about how I contributed to the apocalypse. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by that perceived responsibility.

But let’s talk about the retreat! Clearly, I needed one.The retreat started on a Friday afternoon with light refreshments and introductions, then we walked around the garden and harvested flowers and plants to use to make dyes.

Before the retreat, I thought natural dying was a huge, complicated, expensive, and time-consuming prospect. I learned I have many plants in my own garden that can be used in natural dying. I could easily get the two or three other items I would need for the dying process if I had a little time and space. The process can be time consuming and methodical depending on how much you nerd out on it. Yet it is what you put into it, and even a casually interested person could do some dying without getting up to their neck in it.

We talked about the dye process and what we’d be working on the next day – learning mending techniques with Katrina and making a Forager vest with Meg.I’m dealing with an anxiety spike again. I wanted to slow down and be present at the retreat, but there was also a high-strung, twisted-up part of me that felt like my skin was on too tight. I don’t get enough time with other adults, especially women, to waste it being full of social anxiety and the need to prove myself worthy.

I listened to the audio book, Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, on my commute as planned. The drive would total 6 hours over the three days.

While I’m able to listen to most audio books at 1.25 speed, this one I had to slow down to regular speed and back up and replay it in places. If you space out even for a moment, Adichie has introduced a new character or idea, or has gone forward or backward in time, and you are lost. The irony of this pace issue on my way to and from a slow fashion retreat wasn’t lost on me.Despite its fast clip, the story is fascinating and told in a different way from any book I’ve read recently. Like the Trevor Noah audiobook, it’s read by an incredibly talented narrator who moves seamlessly between a huge number of different accents which I would have missed if I’d read the book.

I looked forward to seeing how the story, and the retreat, would unfold over the coming days.

After we finished for the evening, I stopped at Lil Deb’s Oasis in Hudson, NY, for dinner, which Katrina had recommended. A quirky little joint, I had rice with greens and bean sauce, which it sounds way less amazing than it was. Plus, I got to sit across from this fun and creative letter board menu.All the way to the retreat and back, I was admiring the wildflowers on the side of the road and wishing some of them grew in my garden, specifically goldenrod, heather, and cornflower.

Unlike most highways, the way between my house and retreat was such that I thought I might have a chance to pull over and grab a few plants by the roots to bring home. I pulled over, put my flashers on, and climbed down into the weeds. There were so many bugs in the grass that it was moving. I got hit in the head by a grasshopper. (I did a tick check when I got home. I’m itching just thinking about it.) Now, I can add highway robber to my resume.

I got several of each of the flowers I admired on the side of the road for years, and planted them in my garden when I got home. They will probably irritate our seasonal allergies, and may not even survive the move, but it’s something I have always dreamed of doing, and now I have. (Update: All the plants I brought home died. I might try seeds next year. We’ll see.)

Isn’t that seasonal color wheel cool? You can click the photo to learn more, or just tap here.