Finding Meaning In The Making

I used to think that everything I made had to become something.
A finished product. A printable. A post.
Something useful, purposeful, polished — maybe even impressive.

But lately I’ve found myself enjoying the in-between.

Like when I design a tiny book that never gets printed.
Or sketch a rose-with-an-eye, just to see how it feels.
Or write down five strange facts about turnips that don’t go anywhere.

None of it is wasted.

Because I’m learning — slowly, — that the joy isn’t waiting at the end.
It’s right there in the middle. It's the practice, it's the being, it's just the enjoyment of being in that moment.

There’s Magic in the Middle

There’s magic in the part where your brain fizzles with a new idea.
Where your hands are busy and your mind gets quiet.
Where you try something, not because you have to, but because something small inside you just… wants to. It wants to be let out, it wants to be made.

Not everything has to be shared.
Not everything has to become a shop listing or a structured post.

Some things are allowed to just be.

Did you know that in Victorian times, people made what was known as "mourning samplers", tiny stitched squares which marked someone's passing.

Were they ever finished? Sometimes. But mostly they were stitched in grief, in love, in process. The making mattered more than the frame.

What If That’s the Whole Point?

The Curious Turnip was never about shiny, finished things.
It’s about curiosity. Quiet joy. The overlooked.

And maybe, that includes all the unpolished pieces, too — the ones made late at night, or in a rush of joy, or for no one but me.

I have got items that I made using no needles knitting techniques that I haven't done anything with. Some are not quite finished, some are not quite right. But when I was making them I loved the making, the feel.

So here’s your permission (and mine):
Make something for the fun of it.
Write something you’ll never publish or show anyone else.
Sketch a rose with an eye and let it sit in a folder, just because it made your chest feel fizzy.

Finished is lovely. But optional.

PS:

If you're a fellow maker, writer, or curious-hearted collector of odd things — I’d love to hear what you’re working on just because.