Fifty8 Acres | Jennifer Schmitt
Beautiful words on jewelry, ornaments, bookmarks, magnets, journals, tableware, t-shirts, and anything else that's not nailed down. We go weak in the knees for vast wide open anywhere, but especially Montana.
Fifty8 Acres, handmade, jewelry, quotes, calligraphy, photography, handmade gifts, Montana, t-shirts, shop, gifts, Arizona, cabins, Bozeman, Livingston, Montana land, Montana gifts, gifts, wedding gifts, bridesmaid gifts, frames, wood frames
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Author:Jennifer Schmitt

the emerson t-shirt

The magic of making things

In the spare room, in one of the boxes I always neglect to label when I move (the family photos are for sure in a box marked 'kitchen' or 'books'—if at all—which tells you everything there is to know about how good I am at packing), a few letters to my grandparents are tucked away. Yesterday, I was trying to remember the first thing I ever designed or made by hand. The pet rock with the furry eyebrows and plastic eyes probably takes the crown, but the stationery I designed when I was 7 or 8 was where the real action happened. At the top left corner, an uppercase J or S would start things off. A flourish over the J, or a swoosh to start the...



North. A compass point. A star that guides. The truest of true. The magnetic pull toward which we orient ourselves in our physical space, in our emotional space.

And around here, it’s the signpost to which so many of our thoughts are tethered. If you’ve read Our Story, you know that our minds are set on moving north to Montana someday.

There’s no telling how often our unspoken thoughts turn northward to imagine how life will look there. How it all looks right now, in these in-between days (and months and years) between now and that day when what we’ve been planning becomes something real.

For now, we think of a wraparound porch on a cabin that hasn’t yet been built. A meadow up the hill where elk will wander through. A path down to a cool stream with a name we don’t know yet. There are trout in it, though, and the shadows of trees reflect on its ever-moving surface. A red canoe turned upside down on the banks, waiting. The scent of woodsmoke in the air.