If you’ve been following this project all year, you may have noticed there was no June update. That’s because somewhere between finishing May and attempting to start June, this project came to an end. Not because I finished it. Because I finally stopped.

June was my breaking point. More than half the days in the pattern were 101 stitches each, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t even like the month’s motif. I stared at the chart, did a little stitching, stared at it some more, and realized something I probably should have admitted weeks earlier:

I didn’t want to make this anymore.

That’s a surprisingly hard thing to admit after spending six and a half months and 4,693 stitches on a project.

For months, I kept telling myself I’d turn a corner. That I’d eventually enjoy stitching it as much as I enjoyed looking at it. That once I caught up, everything would click. It never did.

The project was beautiful. I still think it’s a lovely design. But for me, it was too dense, too fussy, and too demanding. I spent more time changing thread colors than actually stitching, and all of those little details made it difficult to appreciate what I was looking at when each month was finished.

Then I remembered a free temperature pattern from Caterpillar Cross Stitch that I’d admired before. It couldn’t have been more different.

Simple. Cheerful. Colorful. Instead of tiny motifs scattered across a garden, it creates a row of smiling suns and bright stars that lets you see the changing temperatures at a glance. Even better, I realized I could adapt it to track both the daily high and low temperatures while keeping the color palette I’d refined for the garden. The colors were always my favorite part of the original project, so getting to carry them forward felt like bringing along the best part of the experience.

Then I did the math. It would literally take fewer stitches to complete January through July in the new project than it would have taken me just to catch up on June in the garden.

That was the moment everything clicked.

Why was I forcing myself through a hobby that I wasn’t enjoying when another project existed that made me genuinely excited to stitch? So I switched. And almost immediately, stitching became fun again.

Instead of feeling guilty every time I picked up my hoop, I found myself looking forward to it. The new project makes me smile. It’s simple without feeling boring, colorful without feeling overwhelming, and it actually does what I wanted a temperature project to do in the first place: show the story of the weather in a way that’s easy to understand with one quick glance.

It reminded me that hobbies aren’t supposed to feel like obligations. Sometimes it’s okay to quit. Or maybe “quit” isn’t the right word. Sometimes it’s okay to choose peace over sunk costs. To acknowledge that you’ve learned what you needed to learn, thank a project for the lessons it taught you, and move on to something that brings you joy instead.

The garden taught me that. The stars are reminding me why I started stitching in the first place.

By the Numbers

⬆️ High: 104.2°F (July 4)
⬇️ Low: 61.0°F (July 24)
🌡️ Biggest swing: 30.6°F (July 4)

As of this update, I’ve already caught up through May, June, and July on the new project. There are still a few months left to fill in, but for the first time in a long time, catching up feels exciting instead of impossible.

Now I just have one decision left to make.

What do I do with a half-finished garden that contains 4,693 stitches and will never be completed?

Right now, I’m leaning toward embracing the story. Maybe I’ll fill the empty space with a snarky quote about quitting, choosing peace, or protecting your mental health, frame it anyway, and let it be a reminder that there are no rules in crafting—or in life. Not every project has to be finished to be worthwhile.

Sometimes the happiest ending isn’t finishing.

Sometimes it’s knowing when to stop.