Using What We Have: Organizing the Dye Pantry & My Life

The old people taught me to use what I have.

Not what I wish I had.
Not what somebody on the internet says I need.
Not the newest thing.
Not the most expensive thing.

What I have.

That lesson lives deep in Indigenous and Geechee Gullah ways. It is a way of looking at the world that values stewardship over consumption, resourcefulness over waste, and gratitude over excess.

This summer, I have been cleaning out my late Momma’s house and organizing a creative workspace. At first glance, it looks like housekeeping. But it is more than that. It’s me demonstrating faith that I can design order to the chaos of childhood trauma and accumulated grief.

Every jar, every bucket, every bag of dried plant material carries a story. Some came from my garden. Some were gathered during workshops. Some were gifts from friends. Others have traveled with me from one project to another, waiting patiently for their turn.

Tucked away on a shelf are boxes of green tea and black tea long past their expiration dates. In most households, they would be thrown away. In my studio, they are still useful. Tea leaves hold color, tannins, and possibilities. They can become soft golds, warm browns, and rich foundations for future layers of dye.

Nearby sit jars of dried pomegranate rinds and black walnut hulls. I have been saving them. Waiting. Planning. The pomegranate offers beautiful yellow-gold tones and valuable tannins. The black walnut gives deep, earthy browns that remind me of creek mud, tobacco barns, and rich Carolina soil after a summer rain. Neither material is at the end of its usefulness. In fact, I am preparing to overdye many of these colors, allowing one layer of plant wisdom to build upon another.

That is how life works, too. One experience laid over another. One story layered upon another. One season staining the next. Nothing is wasted.

As I sort through supplies, I am also preparing wool samples from natural Dorr Mill wool. Small pieces. Simple pieces. Cloth intended for study and exploration. I want to create a library of color. A record. A visual memory book showing how each plant speaks through wool. These samples will eventually find their way into appliqué work, quilts, and future teaching projects. They will become reference points for students and reminders for me. Every swatch will hold information about season, weather, plant material, and process. Each one is a note in a larger conversation.

Alongside the wool are bundles of silk scarves waiting for color. Silk has always felt like water to me. It catches light. It moves with the wind. It carries color differently than any other fiber. These scarves will become Pow Wow Dance Scarves, Prayer Scarves, and wearable medicine cloth. Some will travel across the country. Some will be gifted. Some will be sold to support the work of preserving and teaching these traditions.

As I fold and sort the silk, I find myself thinking about movement. Pow Wow Dance Scarves dancing in rhythm with the drum. Prayer Scarves wrapped around shoulders during seasons of grief, healing, and celebration. Cloth becoming witness. Cloth becoming comfort. Cloth becoming memory.

Then there are the handkerchiefs. Simple squares of fabric. Nothing fancy. Yet they may become some of my favorite projects this season. The Solar Dyed Memory Handkerchiefs will be slowly dyed in the sun using plants, water, time, and patience. They remind me that not everything needs to happen quickly. Some colors arrive only after days of waiting.

The old people understood this. Seeds take time. Children take time. Healing takes time. Color takes time, too. So I continue cleaning. Sorting. Labeling. Organizing shelves. Stacking fabric. Gathering jars. Making room for new work by honoring what is already here. The process feels less like cleaning and more like ceremony. A preparation. A clearing of space. A conversation between past projects and future possibilities. The old dyes are becoming new dyes. The forgotten materials are becoming new cloth. The scraps are becoming samples. The samples are becoming stories. And in true Indigenous Geechee Gullah fashion, I am using what I have. Just as my elders taught me.

Using What I Have On Hand

• Out-of-date green and black tea bags
• Onion skins
• Tumeric
• Indigo (Maiwa Sampler: Powder, Chips, Cakes)
• Red Madder (Roots & Powder)
• Marigold Flowers (Dried)
• Hibiscus Roselle (Dried)
• Logwood
• Black Walnut Hulls
• Pomegranate Peels
• Eastern Brazilwood
• Buckthorn
• Cochineal
• Lac

Dye Supplies:

• Alum
• Picking Lime
• Soda Ash
• Fructose
• Henna
• Iron
• Thiox

Materials:

• Assorted sizes buckets & bins
• 12 Quart-Sized Mason jars
• 6 1-Gallon Mason jars
• Paint Sticks or Wooden Spoons to Stir
• Measuring Spoons & Cups
• Strainer w/Cheese Cloth
• Crockpot
• Tyvek for Labels
• Rust Proof Safety Pins
• Sharpie
• Journal
• Double-Sided Tape

June Natural Dye Challenge Projects 

Silk Scarves

• Prayer Scarf, Silk 15”X60”
• Pow Wow Dance Scarf, Silk, 30-Inch Square

Silk Handkerchiefs

• Solar Dyed Memory Handkerchiefs, Silk, 17-Inch Square

Dorr Wool Natural Yardage

• Natural Dye Wool Studies
• Wool for Future Appliqué Work

Light & Breezy Habotai & Satin Silk Scarves From Dharma:

• Pow Wow Dance Scarves, Hand-Dyed Land Colors – 3 Large, Square, 30”x30” (Cost $10.88 each)
• Prayer Scarves – 6 Long, 15”x60” (Cost $10.05 each)
• (13) Satin Silk Twill Handkerchiefs ($4.34 each)
• (13) Haboti Silk Twill Handkerchiefs ($4.34 each)
• Other Dharma Scarves (To Be Used As Samples)
  • (7) H815
  • H822
  • H830
  • H872
  • H811
• 1 Bag Assorted Experimental Silk

Dorr Mill Wool Fabric.

A high-quality heavyweight wool woven at the Dorr Mill in New Hampshire. Dyes beautifully. Wool I use for traditional hand-dyed Eastern Woodlands blankets.

• The Wollery ($39.99/yard)
• Dorr Mill Store Natural Wool ($36.25)
• Maiwa ($98.00 CAD)