I have one of these:
And this too:
And one of these as well:
But when a day like today happens, and you can finally feel the sun's warmth radiating deep in your bones. . . and the birds are rioting with song. . . and there's hardly a bug in sight. . . and a light breeze tickles the back of the neck. . . . .
I was really glad to haul out this big beauty:
The Singer 201-4, a natural-born hand-crank, circa 1925. Isn't she lovely? The Singer 201 is a straight-stitch only machine, known as the Cadillac of the vintage Singers due to its
Just look at that gorgeous line of stitching:
There is no pedal-to-the-metal here. There is no rush, no need for speed. Just the gentle snick-snick-snick of the needle as it quietly goes about its business. You've heard of the Slow Food movement, certainly. This is my take on the Slow Sew movement. The slow precision of the activity somehow heightens awareness, becomes Zen-like. Blood pressure lowers.
Minor urgencies and agitations dissipate into rightful nothingness.
A peace settles down for a long stay. Such good medicine.
When this machine came into being, my Grandma Lois was a little red-headed girl of 12, my Nanna Hazel was 15. They both very well could have sewn on something similar.
I like that thought.