One of them is years older than the other. They ran alongside each other for a long time before it occurred to me they could be the same thing.
I have been crocheting since I was small enough to need help holding the hook.
Blankets first, because blankets forgive everything. Then the things you make when you have run out of people to give blankets to: bags, hats, a great many coasters nobody asked for.
Somewhere in there it stopped being a project and became the thing my hands do while I am thinking. Twenty-odd years of that and you build up a feel for how a stitch will behave before you work it.
It started, as it always seems to, with one pothos on a windowsill.
That one cutting rooted in a jam jar, and then I understood that a plant could be divided. Within two years the windowsill was a shelf, the shelf was a wall, and I was giving cuttings to anyone who stood still long enough.
Propagating is the part I like most. Something that was a trimming becomes a whole plant because you put it in water and left it alone. It is the closest gardening gets to magic.
The hangers happened because nothing I could buy fit the pots I owned, and the ones that fit fell apart the first time a wet pot went in them.
So I made one. Then one for the plant beside it. It took an embarrassingly long time to notice that the thing I had been doing with my hands for twenty years and the thing filling every window in the house were, in fact, the same hobby wearing two coats.
Everything in the shop comes from that. The cotton side and the living side, made and grown in one house by one person, in whatever quantity that allows.
01
Every piece is crocheted start to finish in one sitting, in one piece where the shape allows. No two come out identical, and the ones that do not meet the mark do not go up.
02
Cuttings come off plants I have grown for years, and only when the plant can spare the node. That is why the collection changes week to week.
03
Cuttings travel with their roots rinsed clean and wrapped damp, never in soil, and go out early in the week. Yarn goods just need a box.
About a plant, a piece, an order gone astray, or whether something can be made in a different size. It all reaches me.