There's no Such Thing as Too Much Fabric. Right?

I came to crafting later than Josh, but the love of creativity has always been in my blood. My first serious attempt after we got married was using an embroidery machine. That went well for a few months until I accidentally stitched a needle straight through my finger. Ouch! I gave up sewing for a while after that. But the urge to create was strong, and I couldn’t stop myself from exploring other types of crafts.

Mama passed away when I was in college. The older I get, the more I understand why she loved crafting so much. She dabbled in all sorts of creative activities, including cross stitch, candlewicking, Tri-Chem painting, and folk art. I remember a phase when she painted a country goose on anything that would stay still. Powder blue and powder pink were her favorite colors. You have to love the 1980s.

Over the years, she gathered an impressive collection of supplies, but nothing compared to her fabric stash. It started with delicate calico prints that she used to make quilted pillow tops for friends and family. She kept her fabric neatly stored on a metal shelf in the corner of her and Daddy’s bedroom. Her plans to make quilts never stopped, so the collection kept growing. It matched her larger-than-life personality in every way.

Mama and Grandma Best often took trips to Piece Goods. Grandma Best, a seamstress, loved searching through fabric and browsing the pattern books. Mama always came home with at least a yard or two of cotton, often printed with dainty flowers or colorful plaids. One shelf soon became two, and before long, fabric was tucked away in the living room and overflowing from the closets.

Eventually, the fabric and craft supplies ended up filling the camper parked next to our house. That camper once held memories of summer trips to White Lake with our big extended family. Now it held enough crafting supplies to rival a small Hobby Lobby. I can’t help but smile when I think about the collection she built over the years. It was funny, especially since she always joked about having only “three outfits to her name.”

When I first started writing this, I thought it would be a funny story. And it is, in many ways. But I began to realize that her craft supplies weren’t just fabric, thread, and half-used bottles of acrylic paint. They were her dreams, her hopes, and her way of giving a little piece of herself to others.

My mama wasn’t perfect. She struggled with mental health, and sometimes life was difficult for her and for the people who loved her. It has been twenty-nine years since she passed away. Now that I’m a mother, I look back and understand her more clearly. I believe crafting was her way of coping, and also a way to leave something meaningful behind.

As our children move toward adulthood, Josh and I hope to leave behind a legacy filled with love and creativity. That is where the story of Pisgah Needleworks begins. This isn’t just a business. It is a reflection of a lifetime of learning, creating, and finding joy in handmade beauty. We hope to share that joy with our children, their future families, and with each of you.