Sewing through this never-ending winter, Scotland recap, Willa Muir, the beauty of black pudding, and a vintage handmade quilted jacket

A Piece: We’re still deep in winter here on the East Coast. America feels dark in a multitude of ways, and the promise of brighter days ahead is what’s keeping me going. That’s probably why I spent the weekend (again) sewing a few mostly warm-weather pieces for myself and my 2.5-year-old.

There’s something deeply calming about losing yourself in a creative project — where nothing else matters except what’s in front of you, and you get to watch something new blossom before your eyes. A toile tie shirt and bandana set, a vintage crochet tote, and a repurposed Frame cashmere sweater that a moth sadly found first, I reimagined a few sweet pieces for Matilda with our May/June trip to Sicily in mind.

I sewed these the weekend we returned from Scotland in late January, and this weekend finished a few new pieces— including this summer set, this little vintage lace tube top, and this embroidered vintage duvet-cover I turned into a dress.

A Trip: It felt almost balmy during the nine days we spent settling into Edinburgh and Oban— temperatures somewhere between 40 and 47 degrees Fahrenheit. It was easy to wander and simply enjoy. The rain (and it does rain quite a bit) doesn’t really deter us. We travel well equipped, with Matilda’s stroller and rain cover always at the ready.

We love Edinburgh. It was my husband’s home for fourteen years, and after fourteen years of visiting, it feels a tiny bit like mine too. He’s taught me the shortcuts and wandering routes — the way the whole city connects, its pulse alive with the energy of Edinburgh University and the bustle of Princes Street, balanced by the residential rhythms of neighborhoods like Bruntsfield and Stockbridge.

We spent time catching up with family before heading west to visit my in-laws. This was Matilda’s fourth visit to Scotland in her two and a half years, and the familiarity she feels on that side of the Atlantic makes me so happy. With the intensity of America, I find comfort in knowing she’ll always have a second home that moves at a more intentional pace.

And the chat— the easy, constant communication woven so naturally into Scottish culture. It comes effortlessly for so many, and I just love being swept up in it.

A Look: I picked up this little handmade vintage quilted jacket a few weeks back, and I’m a big fan of the red piping and wooden toggles. I have a feeling she’ll be a strong spring staple once we get through this snow.

A Dish: You guys, I love black pudding. On a warm roll with a fried egg? Magic. It’s something I only have a few times a year (which makes it feel indulgent), and I like to remind myself that it comes with a few redeeming qualities.

Black pudding is surprisingly rich in iron (thanks to its blood content), which supports healthy red blood cells and energy levels. It’s also high in protein, making it really satisfying, and it contains zinc and potassium — nutrients that support immune function and muscle health. Traditional versions are relatively low in carbs, too.

It’s certainly not something I’d eat every day, but enjoyed occasionally, it feels less like a guilty pleasure and more like a deeply rooted, nutrient-dense tradition— hearty, savory, and very Scottish.

A Time: One afternoon when M was working, Matilda and I wandered over to one of our favorite spots in Edinburgh — the National Portrait Gallery. I’m always drawn to this portrait of Willa Muir, and as I’ve begun learning more about her, I understand why my instincts pointed me in her direction. She lived quite a life.

Willa Muir was a novelist, essayist, translator, and formidable intellectual at a time when women were rarely afforded that space. Born in Montrose in 1890, she spent much of her life between Scotland and continental Europe, translating the work of Franz Kafka into English alongside her husband, Edwin Muir— translations that helped introduce Kafka to the English-speaking world. Yet for years, her own ambitions were overshadowed by his reputation. Only later did her journals and autobiographical writing reveal the sharpness of her mind, her wit, and the frustration she felt at the constraints she faced— by marriage, society, and the expectations of that era.

There is something steady in her gaze that reminds me of so many Scottish women— intelligent, independent, incredibly strong. She wrote candidly about the tension between partnership and independence. I have deep respect for women who insisted on thinking and writing and translating (in her case) the world even when it asked them to be smaller. There are so many. She wrestled openly with what it meant to be a woman with a mind and a voice — and kept going anyway.

Thanks for reading x