In my last blog post I wrote about rhythm and routine. This time, I want to linger a little longer on something closely related: slow making.
Making things with yarn makes me happy. Crochet, spinning and weaving — my preferred methods of making — are, by their very nature, slow. No matter how urgent the project or how close the deadline, if something is going to be made well, it takes time. There is something quietly grounding about sitting down and picking up a project. Your breathing slows. Your shoulders soften. Your focus narrows to yarn and hook, fibre and spindle. Slowness isn’t a weakness in the process; it is the process.
Whenever I try to rush, it rarely ends well. I’ll spot a fairly calamitous mistake six inches back and end up “frogging” everything done in haste. Yarn has a way of reminding you that care and patience matter.
If you’ve seen my social media this week, it might look as though everything has happened at once. Two patterns released. A design published in a magazine. Very productive. Very busy.
But none of it was fast.
A magazine commission
The current issue of Simply Crochet includes a scarf pattern I designed. The initial concept was sent to the editor in June 2025. Colours and yarn were agreed. The deadline for submission was December 1st. After that, the pattern was tech edited, the scarf was modelled and photographed, and the issue was published in February 2026.
From idea to publication: eight months.
Sometimes deadlines are shorter, sometimes longer, but the principle remains the same. The making must be careful. The pattern writing must be clear and accurate. Time has to be budgeted generously and realistically.
And I will admit — it is always a thrill to see my work professionally styled, modelled and photographed. That part never gets old.
Pistachio Breeze Top
One of the patterns I released this week, the Pistachio Breeze Top, began life in November 2025.
I had a picture in my mind: an oversized top in a very particular shade of green. I spent time browsing yarns, considering weight and fibre content. Once I settled on the right yarn, I sampled. I sketched. I even cut the shape out of brown paper to create a template to work from.
From first spark of an idea to finished design, it took almost four months.
That is the reality behind what looks like a single “new release” post.
Every Last Scrap Cowl
The second pattern, the Every Last Scrap Cowl, is smaller — but no less slow in its origins.
The yarn is entirely handspun. Over half of it came from a Yorkshire Blends sample box bought from Wingham Wools in January. As part of my ongoing quest to improve my spinning, I spent a lovely morning at Old School Crafts Minting with Zoe, who showed me how to chain ply.
The spinning itself was slow and thoughtful. The design process was intentionally simple — I wanted the yarn to shine. The making felt joyful and, compared to the spinning, relatively quick over a couple of weeks.
The pattern is available free on my refreshed Free Crochet Hub page — a small celebration of using every last precious length of yarn.
A slow maker’s desk
I am, unapologetically, a slow crafter — and someone who always has several works in progress.
At the moment I have:
- A scarf on my rigid heddle loom
- A crochet shawl design in a glorious gradient yarn (for an intermediate crocheter)
- A bobble hat in testing (for a confident beginner)
- A Tunisian crochet poncho design almost finished (for a confident beginner)
- A moss stitch shawl design started purely for the pleasure of something gentle and undemanding
On the spinning wheel, I’m nearly at the end of a sample box from Adelaide Walker, a Christmas gift from my husband. I have no doubt those yarns will find their way into a future design.
Slowness doesn’t mean stagnation. It means depth. It means intention. It means allowing ideas to unfold at the pace they need.
And in a world that often feels rushed, I think that matters.
Happy crafting,
Sue
Pearson Handmade 