The middle motif, especially the leaves, proved unexpectedly difficult. Unlike the diagonal leaves along the vines, these had to be stitched parallel to the warp of the fabric. If I wasn’t careful, the thread would pull the weft downward, making the holes more pronounced and the stitches look shorter. It required precision, patience, and a kind of attentiveness I don’t always give myself permission to practice.

It was while working on this section that I realized the project was nearing its end. And to my surprise, that realization made me a little sad.

I’ve been carrying this piece around since January. It lives in my small sunflower bag, and I’m rarely without it. My friends have watched it grow week by week, offering encouragement and unsolicited color opinions. Professors and classmates ask to see my progress over the weeks of class. It’s been everywhere from Texas to DC with me. I know every stitch because I am responsible for every stitch. The piece has become an extension of me in that way, something I’ve tended, worried over, problem‑solved, and poured hours of my life into.

Finishing it feels a bit like saying goodbye to a companion.

But that, too, is part of the Arts & Crafts ethos: the idea that making something by hand creates a relationship between the maker and the object. A relationship built on time, attention, and care. A relationship that leaves its mark on both.