Supporting Our Communities

Every day feels like two weeks’ worth of news…and much of it distressing.

We are living through a health crisis, an economic crisis, and a social crisis all at once. We have to explain concepts like “social distancing” to our children and explain why now isn’t a good time to visit grandparents. 

We see our friends struggling — from neighborhood restaurants to hair salons to everyone whose job requires the opposite of social distancing. We wonder what our communities will look like tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.

These questions and concerns prompted the owner of a much beloved Colorado pizzeria (Sazza) to write an open letter to his customers, his neighbors, his community. He wrote, in part:

“I’ve seen the lines at the big grocery stores and corporate discount warehouses and I understand why. We have stocked our pantry, freezers and have enough toilet paper for all of 2020, but now it is time to support the local mom and pop stores. The businesses that are operated by our neighbors, friends and define what makes Colorado unique. When this pandemic passes and it will pass, let’s make sure that all of our local businesses, the heartbeat of our economy are still there and prepared to offer us their products that make us who we are. . . . . 

[T]his is the time for us to step up as a community and define our vision of our neighborhoods. Please, I beg each and everyone one of you, who have the means, to make this time of isolation a time of inspiration. Inspire your neighbors and friends to buy local, let’s define what we want our neighborhoods to look and feel like when we are all able to leisurely leave the safety of our homes.”

Like Sazza’s pizza, Chasing Windmills is based in Colorado.

While our reach in this digital community is local, national, and international, we rely upon real people in real communities to make our vision — to make this dream of ours — come to life. We rely upon merino ranchers in New Zealand and Australia. We rely upon a worker-owned factory in North Carolina to expertly cut and sew our long johns, hoodies, and more. We rely upon our pattern maker in South Carolina to adjust and grade each garment. We rely upon each other in our home office in Colorado — Sarah and JP, partners in all walks of life, juggling family time with work time with personal time.

And, we are forever grateful for the friendships and connections we have made with so many of you, our supporters, throughout the world.

In the weeks and months ahead, all of us will be tested in ways unimaginable just a year ago. During that time of unrest, we hope that our communities can come together — not physically during this time — but in meaningful and profound ways nonetheless. Let’s support each other, help those who are struggling, and show each other renewed patience and kindness.

And, to the extent we’re able, let’s support those businesses that make our communities — local, digital, or otherwise — more vibrant, more alive, more enriching.

We cannot predict what the year ahead holds. But we will be here for you, for merino wool wear of course, but also for inspiration, for a sense of connection, and the promise of hope.

Above all, we wish you health, peace, and resolve in the challenging days ahead.

summer shipping break

Our shop is on a summer shipping break through July 15th, as we take a chance to soak up summertime goodness with our family.  So what does that mean for you all?

USPS First-Class/Standard shipping is on us for all domestic orders during placed during our shipping break through July 15th.  All U.S. orders will ship out, via USPS First-Class/Standard, on July 16th.

And for our international friends, you'll save $5.00 off of your usual shipping costs during the winter shipping break too. A little something for everyone.

To save on shipping during this break, use promo code: SUMMER

We hope you and yours are enjoying the summer season too!

With gratitude,

Sarah & JP (Co-Founders)

The Purpose of Childhood

What is the purpose of childhood?

It’s an interesting question and, counterintuitively, one that us parents sometimes forget to ask. Sure, we ask questions centered around our purpose as parents — and those are incredibly important to think about — but the kid-centric question is equally important.

From an evolutionary standpoint, human beings have exceptionally long childhoods.  Most species on Planet Earth accelerate to adulthood within a matter of a few short years (or less), but not so for us humans.

Instead, human children remain children for prolonged periods, dependent upon their loving families to nurture them during the baby, toddler, youth, and adolescent years. Our relationship with our children undergoes a profound metamorphosis several times over the course of two decades. We adjust our parenting to meet the growing needs, and independence, of our children.

But again, what is the purpose of this prolonged childhood? Its very length denotes its importance and, yet, we often feel the temptation to race ahead, to accelerate our kids on the path to adulthood. And certainly, one of our roles as parents is to prepare our kids for adulthood. 

But, in our view, this role requires a patient reverence for childhood and an embrace of its slow pace. We believe the purpose of childhood is to play; to create; to experiment and take risks within reason and without judgment; to let curiosity spark learning; to test the boundaries of our children’s will, hearts, and minds.

These purposeful pieces of childhood, we hope, will allow our kids to grow in confidence, in compassion, and in love. Rather than short-changing childhood, we lean into it, trust it, and cherish its length.

Because, someday, our kids will be adults. The strong roots of their extended childhood will enable them stand upright in the face of life’s storms; to be strong, resilient, and adaptable during life’s unpredictable journey; and to shine and contribute confidently to this beautiful world.

Embracing the Natural Pace of Childhood

For a long stretch, whenever you gave our little boy crayons or colored pencils, he’d busy himself drawing designs. Multi-colored, layered, creative designs.

Meanwhile, if you gave his twin sister crayons or colored pencils, she was likely to draw whatever she saw in the world — a smiling face, clouds, flowers, rainbows.

And then, seemingly overnight, our little boy started drawing rocket ships with intricate details, fire jetting out the back, control panels onboard, a moon in the distance. Faces emerged next for him — smiley faces, silly faces. And yes, he still draws designs too.

Evolving and maturing at his own pace, our little boy is unearthing his own unique mode of artistic expression. We never told him to draw a rocket, and we certainly did not pick the day when he jumped from designs to detailed rocket ships. That was up to him. As it should be.

As parents, we joyfully await these leaps, when we see our children maturing before our eyes, learning new skills, testing new boundaries, seemingly all of the sudden.

But these leaps happen in their own time. They cannot be demanded. For kids, there is no command performance.

We provide the loving environment for our children to grow, but like Mother Nature’s nurturing of a springtime flower, we cannot force this sudden burst of becoming. By holding childhood in reverence, we trust that each child’s journey of self-discovery and consciousness will unfold in its own time.

In Waldorf classrooms, teachers practice “holding the question”— that is, holding off on definitively answering the question: “who is this child?” Rather than labeling individual children as the “smart kid,” the “athlete,” the “mischievous kid,” the “artist,” and so on, Waldorf philosophy counsels its educators against putting kids into a defined box too soon.

As parents, we desperately want to answer this question. We lay awake at night, dreaming about who our children will become, dreaming about our adventures together, dreaming about their role in this world. We can dream, of course, but we must also be patient and flexible in our dreams.

Our children will surprise us in ways we cannot foresee, in ways big and small.

For now, it’s enough that our little boy loves to draw designs and rocket ships. He’ll share his next leap when he’s ready. We’ll be waiting, patiently and lovingly.