Stitch Spring Flowers on This Pretty Cowl

The storytelling that often accompanies recipe blog posts has become a bit of a joke on the Internet, with people who just want the recipe already complaining about the fact that the author tells the whole back story of the dish, their family’s reaction, the history of the herb cilantro, before they share the ingredients.

Of course the reason many people write posts like that is because the algorithms tend to prefer longer posts, and you can get more keywords into a post that has more words in general.

As a blogger I don’t mind the storytelling much, and while this trend isn’t found in knitting patterns as much as it is in recipes, sometimes it’s nice to get the backstory on a meal, or, in this case, a knitting pattern.

I think it’s worth reading the story that comes before the pattern on this one. The Orwell’s Garden cowl by Julie Cameron Gray is lovely by itself — a sock yarn cowl worked in the round, covered with dainty flowers.

But the story behind the cowl gives it a deeper meaning and give us something to think about while we’re knitting. It’s about creating things that last, through the lens of gardening, but knitting is similar in that we make things and we don’t know who might enjoy them in the future, what might happen to them when we’re gone.

And if you’re not into the deep introspection right now, you can just scroll through like you do on those recipe posts.

The cowl uses four colors and the colorwork is presented in a chart. It’s not difficult if you know how to read a chart, but it might be more efficient to do the yellow stitches at the center of each flower in duplicate stitch (or even as a French knot to add some texture) rather than knitting a single stitch of that color in each flower. Grab the free pattern from Taddle Creek.

[Photo: Guy Crawford.]

Dear Crafty Readers,
“I run my sewing business from home. I don’t have a shopfront. I don’t clock in and out. I just sew in my own space, around my own schedule.
And because of that, people assume I’m endlessly flexible.
When someone needs something urgently, they’ll ask if I can ‘just squeeze it in.’ They’ll message late at night. They’ll explain how important the deadline is to them.
I started charging a rush fee.
And that’s when the pushback began.
‘But you’re already home.’
‘It shouldn’t cost more if you’re not travelling anywhere.’
‘Can’t you just do it this once?’
A few people have acted genuinely offended — like I’m being greedy or unreasonable.
Now I’m second-guessing myself.
Am I the asshole for charging extra for rush orders, even though I work from home?
— Anonymous

If you’ve ever felt awkward adding a rush fee — or tempted to waive it just to avoid tension — you’re not alone.

This question cuts right to the heart of how creative, home-based work is still misunderstood.

Why “Working From Home” Changes How People Treat You

There’s a strange assumption that if you work from home, your time is somehow more flexible — or less valuable.

People often think:

You’re already there
You can just reshuffle things
You’re not “really” inconvenienced

What they don’t see is that home-based work still has:

Schedules
Commitments
Limits
Personal time

Being at home doesn’t mean being on call.

What a Rush Order Actually Costs You

A rush order isn’t just about sewing faster.

It often means:

Dropping other work
Rearranging personal plans
Sewing late into the evening
Working under pressure
Carrying someone else’s urgency

That urgency has a cost — even if it doesn’t show up on a receipt.

“But It’s Just One Item…”

This phrase is another familiar one.

A rush order is rarely just one item. It’s the mental load that comes with:

Watching the clock
Worrying about deadlines
Rushing decisions
Feeling responsible for someone else’s timing mistake

That pressure deserves compensation — not guilt.

Why Rush Fees Feel Uncomfortable to Charge

Many sewists hesitate to add rush fees because:

They don’t want to seem difficult
They fear losing the sale
They worry about appearing greedy

But a rush fee isn’t a punishment. It’s a boundary.

It tells customers: This is possible, but it costs more because it costs me more.

The Double Standard Around Creative Work

Interestingly, rush fees are widely accepted in other industries.

People expect to pay more for:

Express shipping
Same-day services
Last-minute bookings

But when it comes to handmade or creative work, that logic often disappears — especially when the work happens at home.

That double standard puts unnecessary pressure on makers.

When Waiving Rush Fees Backfires

Many sellers learn this the hard way.

When you don’t charge extra for urgency:

Rush orders become expected
Boundaries blur quickly
Stress increases
Resentment builds

What starts as flexibility can quietly turn into burnout.

Is Charging Extra Unfair — or Honest?

This is where opinions really split.

Some readers will say:

“A rush fee is completely reasonable.”

Others might argue:

“If you can do it, why charge more?”

And a few will admit:

“I never thought about the impact of urgency.”

All of those perspectives exist — and they’re worth hearing.

So… Are They the Asshole?

There’s no universal answer here.

But there is an important question underneath it all:

Should working from home mean giving up control over your time?

For many sewists, the answer is a firm no.

Over to You, Crafty Readers

Now it’s your turn — and this one tends to spark strong opinions.

Do you charge rush fees?
Have you ever felt guilty enforcing them?
As a buyer, would you expect to pay more for urgency?
Or do you think rush fees are unnecessary?

Scroll down and join the discussion.
This is one of those topics where lived experience really matters.

(And if you’ve got a sewing dilemma of your own, you can submit it anonymously to Sewing.CraftGossip — sometimes the hardest part is asking the question.)

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