She's made close to 5,000 of them and never once sold one online — until now. This is the final run.
Nola (68), the Tasmanian Midlands quilter closing her sewing shed on 31 October after 49 years, has been making these quilted sheep baskets quietly — on the side, all winter. She almost didn't say anything. She's glad she did.

Nola's shed closes on 31 October. The 1962 Singer — the same machine her mother gave her when she married — goes quiet after that. The bolts of sage-green and cream fabric that line the back wall are already being folded and put away.

But the last thing to come out of that shed won't be a tote. It's a basket.

"I'd been working on them quietly all winter," she says. "Every time I needed a break from the bags, I'd switch over to the baskets. It was almost like a secret project." She pauses. "I didn't plan for them to be the last thing. They just are."

"I'm sixty-eight," she says quietly. "My hands still work most days. But my ring finger goes numb after three hours now, and the twelve-hour days are behind me." She looks at her hands — knuckles thickened from nearly fifty years at the machine. "But that's not the only reason. The world I learnt this craft for has mostly changed. Real handwork has got harder to find — and harder to pass on."

Bracken Flat, Tasmanian Midlands. Early spring. There's still frost on the paddocks at seven in the morning, and the shed smells like cotton, wool and woodsmoke. The Sheep Totes are nearly gone — most found homes over the winter. Along the back wall, stacked in careful rows on Nola's timber shelves, sit the baskets. Each one quilted. Each one with a small mob of sheep watching from the sides.

"I kept them to myself for a long time," Nola says. "The totes were what everyone asked about. The baskets were just mine." She runs a hand along the rim of one. "But I can't take them with me when I shut that door. And they should go somewhere."

49 years of craft — and a quieter project she kept to herself

Nola has been making quilted totes for nearly five decades. The baskets are newer — she started about twelve years ago, one at a time, for people she knew. She's made close to five thousand of them since, alongside the bags. Every single one passed through her hands. "At first I was just making them for neighbours," she says. "Then customers started writing to ask if I'd make one for them. Then friends of those customers." She laughs quietly. "They found their people. I don't know how — they just did."

It started at a country show at Campbell Town. A woman stopped at her stall and asked whether she could make something for a laundry. "She said her washing basket was the ugliest thing in her house," Nola says. "She wanted something that looked like it belonged there."

Nola went home and made one. The woman cried when she came to collect it. "She said, 'I almost don't want to put it in the laundry. It's too pretty to hide.' That stuck with me."

She never brought finished baskets to the country shows to sell — she made them quietly, to order, for people she knew: neighbours, customers who asked twice, friends of friends. "They travel by word of mouth, just like everything else I've made," she says. "I never needed to advertise them."

Until now. The shed closes on 31 October. These are what's left. And for the first time in twelve years, the baskets are available to anyone.

What makes Nola's sheep baskets different

What sets these baskets apart isn't the sheep — as good as they look. It's how they're built: the same construction Nola has used on every quilted piece she's made since 1977.

Each basket is cut from a heavy cotton-poly blend, layered around a firm wadded interior, and run through the Singer in Nola's wave-stitch quilt pattern — the same pattern that makes her totes hold their shape even when you stuff them full. That stitching wraps all the way around the outside, which gives the basket a sculptural quality you can feel with your hands.

The sheep on the outside aren't printed. They're individually cut, layered and appliquéd onto the quilted panel, the way Nola's mother taught her in 1977. The wool on the bodies is raised — each one has a slight softness you can touch. "They won't peel, crack or wash off," Nola says. "They're stitched into the fabric. They're part of it."

The basket stands on its own — empty or full. The handles are doubled canvas, reinforced at the attachment points. "I bar-tack every handle the same way I bar-tack the tote handles," she says. "It's the one thing I've never had to change in forty-nine years."

"Too pretty to hide — and practical enough to use every single day"

That's what Nola hears most. Women who order one for the laundry and end up keeping it in the bedroom. Women who bought it for the sheep and stayed for the structure. "I had a customer write to me last year," Nola says. "She said she bought it because it was cute — and then realised she was using it for dirty washing going in and clean washing coming out. One basket. Both directions. She said she'd never needed a second one." Nola smiles. "That's what I want. Not something you display. Something you reach for every day."

A good number of them end up holding wool. "I hear that all the time from knitters," she says. "They'll say, 'I thought it was going to be a washing basket, but my wool stash looks so happy in it.' The basket doesn't care what goes in it. It just keeps its shape and looks good doing it."

"I have customers who've been using the same basket for eight years"

Nola pulls the old biscuit tin out from under her worktable — the same one she's had since the nineties. Inside are cards and letters from customers. She slides out a handwritten card that arrived last autumn.

"That's what I wanted," Nola says quietly. "Not something you tuck away because it's pretty. Something you keep out because it works."

Four designs from Nola's final basket collection

This is Nola's final collection — everything on this page is what's left

The sewing shed closes on 31 October. These baskets — around 800 of them, finished over the winter — are what's left. No more are coming. Nola has no apprentice. Once the Singer is covered, that's the end of it.

"The totes found their people," Nola says. "I hope the baskets do too."

She's set a flat close-out price: A$85 per basket — down from her usual A$119 at country markets. "I'm not doing this for the money," she says. "I want them in homes that'll actually use them. Not sitting somewhere waiting for the right occasion."

Her grandkids Tilly (9) and Angus (6) are helping her get the last of them out the door. "I'm not much chop with the internet myself," Nola says, laughing. "But those two worked it out in about ten minutes. Tilly said the sheep on the baskets looked like they were waiting to go somewhere. I thought that was about right."

• Real quilted construction: Cotton-poly face, wadded interior, wave-stitch quilting all the way around — not a flat print. Holds its shape standing empty. You can feel the difference in your hands.
• Appliquéd sheep motif: Each sheep is individually cut, layered and stitched onto the quilted panel. The wool is raised. They won't peel, crack or wash off — they're part of the fabric.
• Self-standing structure: Stands upright on its own, whether empty or full. No internal frame, no wire ring. The wadded quilted walls hold the shape.
• Reinforced handles: Doubled canvas, bar-tacked at the stress points. Holds a full week of washing — or a full load of wool — without sagging or tearing.
• Roomy and easy to clean: Deep enough for washing, blankets, a wool stash, or anything that needs a beautiful home. The lining wipes clean.
• Final collection: Around 800 baskets remain from Nola's last production run. The shed closes on 31 October 2026 — after that nothing more is made, and the rest of the run goes while stocks last.

Nola’s final collection — the sewing shed closes on 31 October 2026.
Around 800 baskets remain. No reorders once sold out.

What real customers are saying about the Sheep Basket

Where you can get one of Nola's Sheep Baskets

The baskets are available exclusively through Nola's official shop — the only place you'll find the real, handcrafted baskets straight from her final collection.

The shed closes on 31 October — no reorders, ever

The shed closes at the end of October, just as Nola said it would. "I did what I came here to do," she says. "Forty-nine years. That's enough." After that the Singer gets covered and the shelves stay empty.

What's left are these baskets. When they're gone, that's the end. Nola won't be making more — she won't have the space, the machine is being retired, and there's no one she's passing the pattern to.

Payment & delivery: Nola's shop accepts all major credit cards, PayPal, Apple Pay and Google Pay. Orders are dispatched within 2–3 business days, Australia-wide. Free returns within 30 days.

This is Nola's final collection — around 800 baskets remain.
The sewing shed closes on 31 October 2026. No reorders once sold out.

The short version

These are baskets you won't want to hide in the laundry.

That's not an accident. Nola built them — the same way she built everything — to be used every day and looked at while you use them. Soft to carry. Structured enough to stand in the corner on their own. And every time someone walks through the room, they stop and ask about the little mob of sheep looking back at them.

Twelve years she kept these to herself. These are the last ones she'll make.

Thank you, Nola. 🐑🧵✨

Claim your Sheep Basket now — with Nola's personal 100% money-back guarantee

Nola says it herself:

That's why she offers a 100% money-back guarantee:

Take the Sheep Basket home. Put it in your laundry, your bedroom, your knitting corner. Use it for a week. If it doesn't belong there — if you don't love it — send it back and get your money back. No questions asked.

Final collection — no reorders once sold out. Dispatched within 2–3 business days.

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