I have been a kitchen-table seamstress for 44 years. All that time I have dreamed of having a sewing room of my very own. But alas, the houses I have lived in have never afforded me that luxury.

I came close to it a few times, though. Many years ago, I lived in a big white, early 19th century house on Main Street in Patten. There was a sunny upstairs room at the southeast corner of the house where I set up a small table for my sewing machine, the only furniture in the room besides a chair. The room had no cutting table, shelving or any of the features a sewing room ought to have. A modest family income and the presence of two toddlers 171/2 months apart in age precluded further development of a sewing room.

When I lived in a big colonial house in Hampden, the room at the top of the stairs was where I secretly envisioned a place to sew, but it doubled as a bedroom for a stepdaughter who spent summers, vacations and many weekends happily growing up there. The room also served as part-time headquarters for the other major vice of my life – writing novels.

I still dream about having a sewing room even though the house I live in now is much smaller than my other houses. In my dream, I see a room of modest size with two big windows and white walls, similar to the one I call my computer room – which is where I keep all the stuff I use for sewing, like fabric and patterns, as well as the computer.

Every day when I go into that little room, I see in my mind’s eye my trusty vintage Singer portable (such a misnomer – that machine is so heavy I can barely lift it onto the kitchen table) set up on an old door that would make a great combination sewing and cutting table. I see my antique New Home treadle machine by the north window. I see the existing book shelves devoid of photo albums and manuscript boxes, and in their place I see books about sewing and needlework, jars of buttons, and containers filled with bias tape, elastic and interfacing material.

I see my fabric stash nicely sorted, neatly folded and stored in plastic bins with lids. I see a thread rack hanging on the wall instead of the portraits of my Herrick ancestors, gazing at me in all their ornate, gold-framed, late-Victorian, wall-hogging glory.

But to see all that in my mind is one thing. The reality of what to do with all the writing stuff, the family photos and portraits, and all the other flotsam and jetsam of my life’s history becomes the impediment I have yet to remove.

My basement is not a fit place for woman or beast, let alone stuff too good to throw away. The garage is fit only for housing the wheelbarrow and a stack of clay gardening pots – though much improved now that my carpenter son has redone the ceiling. My house has no attic. I have no other place to put the stuff that needs to be moved in order to turn the computer room into a sewing room.

So it looks like I’ll continue being a kitchen-table seamstress for the time being – not that I really mind. After all, much of my life has been lived at the kitchen table. It was where I studied when I was growing up. It was where I read comic books and played with paper dolls. It was where I learned to skin a beaver (that’s another story) and where I learned to write poetry. It’s where I sat with many wonderful women, friends and family, stitching together the lively chapters of my life.

Snippets

. The Bangor Area Sewing Guild is offering a class in making lingerie at 9:30 a.m. Saturday, April 16, at the Hampden Municipal Building. The class project is a camisole, but demonstrations on how to make other lingerie items will be given. The cost is $10 for members, $15 for other. Call 941-8815 to obtain a list of materials needed.

. Leave it to Martha to make a fashion statement even in the most trying of times. When she left prison earlier this month, she wore a poncho a fellow inmate crocheted for her. Right away, style mavens everywhere wanted one. Lion Brand Yarns, according to its Web site, was inundated with requests for its designers to create a pattern for Martha’s poncho. No sooner said than done. Visit www.lionbrand.com to obtain a copy of the Martha Stewart Homecoming Poncho in crochet. A knitted version also is available.

Ardeana Hamlin can be reached at 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.