The 100 Quilt Project has taught me many things, but one of the biggest is what consistency actually looks like in practice. Not motivation or productivity hacks, but hundreds of small decisions that gradually add up over time.

To turn a 150-year-old optical illusion into a quilt, I had to abandon blocks, rethink how I use space and structure, and sew the same fabric back together just to get seams. Divergence was a challenge — but in the best way.

After an intense stretch at the day job, the studio was quiet. No next project. No sketch. No plan. This post is about the uncomfortable stillness between quilts and the relief of realizing the ideas hadn’t disappeared after all.

This quilt came together using what I had—and what I had included Wasabi, a bright yellow that, like Kiwi Marmite, people tend to love or hate. One block, bold lines, and a design that hides its own seams.

A shift in pace and a change in approach. Process, momentum, and adjusting how the work moves.

Frosty lilacs, quiet navy, and the reminder that it’s not over until the binding’s on and the threads are buried. Quilt 25 of the 100 Quilt Project didn’t really sing until it was done done—and suddenly, I loved it.

XOXO was one of the early quilts in the 100 Quilt Project, but the design never quite worked the way I intended. Revisiting the design later revealed what it needed.

Winterfade started with a quilt shop visit and a heavy feeling. That old tug of imposter syndrome — the sense that everyone else knows exactly what they’re doing — crept in, and I brought it home with me. I know it’s irrational, but I’m just weird with people sometimes.

A winter studio check-in: the unseen work behind the quilts, finishing one project at a time, and starting XOXO again.

I didn’t set out to make a heart quilt—I set out to use up some sweet pink scraps and fill a Valentine’s gap in the portfolio. The shapes are simple, the layout’s a trick of the brain, and technically… it’s not a heart quilt. Until you see it. Then it definitely is.

A quieter remake of the Groovy Checkerboard quilt, shaped by scraps, value, and simple construction.

January isn’t about reinvention—it’s about moving forward, thoughtfully and intentionally. Which Way? invites you to begin, one step at a time.

What started as a simple plan to build a quilt-pattern business grew into a year of quilts, solid infrastructure, and unexpected momentum.

This quilt began with a tile floor and a Taylor Swift track stuck in my head. I thought it would be bright. I thought it would be Bejeweled. But forest tones shifted everything. Evermore became a quieter kind of bold—the kind that glows instead of shouts. A breath of green. A turn toward calm. Gracie approved.

Not sewing right now. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m playing digital chicken with myself and trying to win.

I often say, "you’ve got to go slow before you can go fast"—and in the best laid plan, I ignored my own advice.

On slowing down, staying grounded, and letting small steps carry the work forward.

October Forest grew from the first clear skies of autumn, where green fades to gold and the world feels wide open again.

A quiet introduction to the 100 Quilt Project—where it began, what sparked the idea, and how structure can create space for creativity. Featuring the very first quilt, Ripple, and a behind-the-scenes glimpse at what keeps the work moving

Not every quilt starts with a burst of inspiration.
Some begin with a block that feels just... fine. Not terrible, not thrilling. Just fine. And then something unexpected happened…