Sometime last winter, as I realized I was slipping into the black, I went fabric shopping. I had a gift card to a national fabric chain, I had the redecorating jones, I needed cheering up, and I was tired of the guest room looking like a yard sale grab-bag. The down comforter in there desperately needed a duvet, the bedskirt needed mending, and I hadn't found a bedspread I liked that was affordable. The last bit was okay, because I knew what I wanted to use. Buried in the bottom of my grandmother's battered cedar chest was an old quilt top. It was all pieced together, but no one had ever done anything with it.
Now mind you, I have never quilted so much as a set of placemats. I was feeling pretty intimidated by this thing. But I bought my supplies – some sage green fabric to extend sides and bottom, a cotton batt, and super-wide muslin. And a gigantic quilting hoop. And I carefully folded everything up when I got home and stashed it in a corner of the sewing room.
I did mention that I was feeling really intimidated by this thing, yes?
Want to know why?
It is my great-grandmother's quilt-top. She died in 1950. That means that quilt top was pieced sometime during the 1940s, just as she began to suffer from senile dementia. It was one of her last projects. She made it out of scraps from clothing projects at the end of the Great Depression during World War Two. And I was about to tamper with a historical artifact.
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
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