fifty shades of fox

In many ways, life at home with two little children revolves around the seasons. The spring is for picnics and planting; the summer, for dashing from one air-conditioned space to the pool and back again. This year, I loved sewing for these seasons: pastel quilts in April and May inspired by the lengthening sunsets; deep, rich quilts in July and August to remind me of what our garden gives us at that times of year.

And now, autumn is setting us free again -- the outside beckoning with new curiosities. I have not, once, though, sewn anything for the autumn -- until now.

I have to confess, I'm a little bit in love with orange this year in general -- it's been my secret weapon numerous times this year, in giving a bit of extra energy to the rather predictable turquoise-white-grey combo. And so, inspired by the (few) leaves that have begun to change in our garden, and the rather excessive family of pumpkins that have taken over our house, I chose a pattern that would fit an all-orange/red palette rather nicely...

FOXIES!




These fancy fox faces are made using a pattern by Elizabeth Hartman (Fancy Fox Quilt, bought here). I don't think I can properly describe how much fun it is to turn little squares and rectangles into faces -- and, after the first one, how surprisingly easy! And addictive.

And so, the fox wall keeps growing, thoroughly freaking my husband out whenever he comes in -- as he says, "It's like walking into the woods on a foggy morning, and there's this pack of hungry eyes staring at you...".

I'll leave you with that thought, and these forty eyes, staring at you...

fantastic mr. felix: a foxy finished quilt

"Even though so much of modern life and theology insists that what matters is my mind, my soul, my inner self, my heart, there is still this nagging part of me that knows on some deep level that the things we see and touch and hear and taste are spiritual, too." 

--Shauna Niequist

I spend a long time picking out fabrics. The perfect shade of aqua, the happiest-looking foxes I can find. And perhaps it's because I expect so much of them. I expect these strips of cotton to communicate years of friendship. I expect them to sum up love and hope and joy. I expect them to act as a promise of support -- that if ever life is difficult, we are here to help, and if ever life gives cause to celebrate, we are here to join in the excitement.

It's a lot to ask.

But I hope that the new little life who'll be wrapped up in these bright triangles will feel some of that -- the emotion wound up in woolly batting -- seeping out through the stitches.