Paying attention—

A phrase so common, so often uttered (especially by adults to children), the true depth of it may be easily overlooked.

Our attention, our time, is one of our most precious resources. If not THE most precious.

One we cannot get back.

One we will eventually run out of.

I have been thinking a lot about what it truly means to still our minds, be present, put blinders on to the millions of other stimuli constantly vying for our attention, and instead placing it intentionally on one singular person/object/task/experience— what a rarity that is.

How bad I am at doing that at all, let alone consistently.

Fall is slowly unfolding here at the Folkling House and much of the inspiration for our upcoming collection has been derived from the nature that can be found around the property.
Truly, one of my favorite things about being in a new space, is witnessing the different new-to-me elements of nature that surround it. I always find something curious, something unexpected.

The captivating amber gradients in the mushrooms, the way the little buds on the beech drops look akin to tiny shells.
The cosmos seeds in all of their articulated wide-handed glory, right before they take their leave for the soil below.

Despite our being quiet online, it’s been a busy season of life readying for our re-opening.
There has been more stress and unexpected setbacks in the process of it all than I like admitting.
But these moments of pausing and directing attention, however brief, to nature and its ever changing vignettes feels rewarding and worth taking the time for.
A reminder of what all of this effort is for.

It’s hitting me harder than I expected.

Saying goodbye to this space.

I have never grieved the closing of a door in my life like this one.

WE ARE MOVING!



I have written this post in my head while driving down the road so many times.


I am right now warring with the desire to get into the thick of it with you, tell you how and why and when we arrived at this decision.


All that lays behind it and before it. 


All of the heaviness and lightness and full hearted emotion that led Owen and I to making this decision. 



But this post isn’t for that.

That story telling will come. 



For now all you need to know is that this edition of Folkling, this particular brick & mortar season, is coming to an end.

When we make things around here, we make them slowly, and with a whole lot of heart.

—The Folkling Field Kerchief—



Introducing the first made-to-order design in the Folkling Heirloom collection.



This is a piece I dreamed up and designed over a year ago, and finally bringing it to life for you all feels akin to getting back to my roots and the kind of dreams I had back in 2010 when I used to design and knit for a living.

I spent a very small window of that season pursuing what I called at the time “sustainable knitwear”.


A phrase and term that was mostly foreign in the marketplace and consumer mindset during those years. I spent time learning how to process my own fleeces, spin wool, knit and create garments in a start-to-finish concept that I called “from sheep to sweater”.

Our homes are special places. They are tactile expressions of ourselves. Our interests and passions and the things we find beauty and importance in. It is always a really special feeling when someone finds beauty and importance in something I’ve found and saved and tried to continue the story of.

It’s like a multi person contract of intention to continue the usefulness of a time-worn article.

Something I find a lot of value in, amidst a world that is forever telling you that more-more-more and new-new-new is better.You may not know—Folkling actually started as a primarily vintage homewares centric venture in 2017.

It has of course expanded into Owen and I’s very deep love of clothes and other wearable objects, as well as quality handmade things, but at the end of the day I think that the special little pieces in our homes that convey an often untold story are what I am most drawn to.