🧶 Well‑Loved Potholders (Scraps, Stories, and a Pattern to Share)
Some mornings, before the day really begins, I like to wander into the kitchen with a cup of coffee and take stock of the little things that make this space feel like home. The sunlight hits the counter just right, the kettle hums in the background, and hanging on their hook are my well‑loved potholders — softened, faded, and familiar in the best possible way.
They didn’t start out as anything special. Just scraps of fabric left over from bigger projects — the corner of a quilt, a bit of a tote bag, a print I loved too much to toss. But that’s the magic of scrap sewing, isn’t it? These tiny pieces, the ones we save “just in case,” somehow become the things we reach for every single day.
Over time, these potholders have taken on a life of their own. The edges have softened, the colors have mellowed, and they’ve developed that gentle, worn‑in look that only comes from years of being part of the daily rhythm. They’ve been there for the rushed weeknight dinners, the holiday baking marathons, the “let’s try this new recipe and hope for the best” moments. They’ve caught spills, cushioned hot dishes, and occasionally doubled as a coaster when I wasn’t paying attention.
And every time I pick one up, I’m reminded of the project it came from. A quilt sewn on a rainy weekend. A bag I made for a friend. A fabric I loved so much I used every last inch. It’s funny how something as simple as a potholder can hold so many tiny memories stitched into it.
There’s something comforting about sewing potholders. They’re small enough to finish in an afternoon, but still satisfying in that “I made something useful” way. They don’t ask for perfection. They don’t mind if the scraps don’t match perfectly. They’re the kind of project you can work on while your coffee cools beside you, letting your mind wander as the pieces come together.
And maybe that’s why they end up so well‑loved. They’re born from quiet moments — the kind where you’re not rushing, not overthinking, just enjoying the feel of fabric in your hands and the simple pleasure of making something.
Because I get asked about them so often, I finally decided to share the pattern I use. It’s nothing fancy — just a sturdy, scrap‑friendly design that holds up beautifully over time. The kind of pattern you’ll want to make again and again, especially once you see how quickly those leftover fabric bits turn into something useful
If you’d like to make your own stack — for your kitchen, for gifts, or just because it’s a lovely way to spend an afternoon — the pattern is available here: I have checked and the pattern is available on Etsy and Ebay.
As I look at the little stack of potholders in my kitchen — each one stitched from leftovers, softened by time, and carrying its own quiet story — I’m reminded how much joy there is in these simple, everyday makes. They don’t ask for perfection. They don’t require fancy materials. Just a few scraps, a bit of time, and the willingness to turn something small into something useful and loved.
If you’ve made potholders (or anything, really) from scraps that hold a bit of your own history, I’d love to hear about them. Maybe it was a fabric you couldn’t bear to throw away, or a project that surprised you by becoming a favorite. Feel free to share your scrap memories in the comments — it’s always such a treat to see how these little pieces find new life in someone else’s hands.
Here’s to the humble potholder, the comfort of handmade things, and the stories stitched into every scrap. I only shared my best looking ones.
