Stitching by the Storm

Notes from the rainy season, where the sky keeps time and the needle keeps faith.

The rain has found its rhythm again. Here in Florida, the wet season arrives like a held breath finally let go — not the grey, all-day drizzle of colder places, but something far more theatrical. The mornings come bright and gold. Then, by afternoon, the clouds gather their dark skirts overhead, and for an hour or two the sky empties itself entirely. By dusk it has moved on, leaving the world rinsed and glittering and impossibly green.

I have come to love this hour of rain more than almost any other in the day. From inside the RV, the sound is extraordinary — a thousand small hands drumming on the roof, close enough to touch, intimate in a way no brick house ever allows. It is like sitting on a porch in the heart of the weather, yet without the damp or the heaviness in the air. Just the sound, and the dim violet light, and the smell of wet earth seeping through the screens. It is, I think, the most honest kind of cozy there is.

The Green Comes On Like a Spell

What the rain leaves behind is the real magic. Within days of the season turning, everything that was tired and sun-bleached begins to surge back to life. The grasses thicken. The trees grow heavy and glossy. Vines reach where there were no vines a week ago, and the whole landscape takes on that deep, drowsy lushness that feels almost enchanted — as though the world has been whispered to and decided to answer.

There is something for a maker in all of this. The rainy season is a study in patience and abundance: the storm gives, the green receives, and beauty arrives not all at once but in soft, insistent layers. That is not so different from the way a design is built at the studio — one pass of thread laid over another, color deepening upon color, until what was an empty hoop becomes something with weight and shadow and life. Embroidery, like a Florida summer, rewards those who are willing to let things build slowly.

So I let the weather set the mood. When the afternoon darkens and the first fat drops strike the roof, I find I want to be making something. The storm seems to ask for it — for hands kept busy and warm, for the small bright defiance of creating beauty while the sky throws its weight around outside.

When the Sky Bares Its Teeth

And it does throw its weight around. Our rain rarely comes alone. It travels with thunder that rolls in from the Gulf, and with lightning — sudden, white, and absolute — that splits the dark and turns the whole RV bright as noon for half a heartbeat. It is breathtaking to witness. It is also, for anyone who works with a beloved and not-inexpensive machine, a reason to pay attention.

This is the part of the season I want to speak plainly about, because it matters. A lightning strike does not need to hit your home to do harm. A strike anywhere on the same power line, or even a close strike to the ground nearby, can send a surge racing through the wiring in an instant — and a surge like that can quietly ruin the delicate electronics inside an embroidery machine. The motors, the boards, the tiny computer that keeps every stitch in its place: all of it is vulnerable. One careless storm can undo a machine you have spent years learning to trust.

So the rule at the studio is simple, and I keep to it without exception. When the thunder draws close, I finish the pass I am on, and then I stop. I power the machine down properly, and I unplug it from the wall — not just switched off, but truly disconnected. A surge protector is a fine thing and well worth having, but no surge protector is a match for a direct strike, and I have no interest in testing the difference. The only certain protection is an unplugged cord and a little patience.

The Gentle Art of Powering Down

If you stitch, sew, or work with any machine you care about, let the season teach you a few small habits. Keep your machine on a quality surge protector as a matter of course, not only during storms. Watch the sky, and when the thunder starts to feel near — the old rule of thumb is that if you can hear thunder, the lightning is close enough to reach you — bring your work to a graceful pause. Power down, unplug, and step back from the temptation to squeeze in one more design before it passes.

Save your files often, too. A storm has a way of taking the power with it when it goes, and there is a particular heartbreak in losing an hour of digitizing to a flickered light. Keep your work backed up, keep your cords within easy reach, and treat the unplugging as part of the ritual rather than an interruption to it.

Because here is the lovely secret: the pause is not lost time. When the machine goes quiet and the lightning takes over the sky, you are simply given back the rain. You can sit with it. Listen to it. Let it drum on the roof and pull the green up out of the ground while you rest your hands and let your eyes wander over the work so far. Some of my best ideas have arrived in exactly that gap — in the enforced stillness of a storm too fierce to work through, when there was nothing left to do but watch and wonder and let the next design begin to take shape in the dark.

An Invitation

The rainy season will be with us for a while yet, and I, for one, am glad of it. It is a season that asks us to slow down, to make peace with the weather rather than fight it, to find the cozy in the wild. To stitch when we can, and to listen when we cannot. To respect the storm enough to step back from it — and to love it enough to leave the screens open while it sings on the roof.

So the next time the sky goes dark in the afternoon, I hope you will let yourself enjoy it. Make something beautiful while the rain comes down. And when the lightning draws near, unplug, settle in, and let the storm have its hour. The work will wait. The green will keep growing. And the needle will be there, faithful as ever, when the sky clears again.

Stay dry, stay safe, and keep your cords unplugged when the thunder rolls.

— Mercy, WhichCraft? Studio

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A Little Something for Storm Lovers

For those of you who feel the same pull toward a darkened sky, I have a small dangle waiting — a little design made for storm lovers, delicate enough to carry a bit of the weather with you. You can find it here: Which/Craft? Studio | Machine Embroidery Design Online Shop | Orlando

Use code STORMME at checkout. Consider it a small thank-you for loving the rain as much as I do.