First off – if any of you are interested in my books and want news about new things happening with those, please “like” my Facebook author page. There’s a little box in the sidebar that allows you to do that without going to Facebook. That’s how I’ll keep in touch with folks who want to read my stuff.
Second – I know I don’t post helpful tutorials; all I do is drag out pictures of stuff already done. But I’m always inspired by pictures of fun things. Ideas spark when I look at the way other people put things together. So I hope nobody minds.
Here, I start with surprises: one day A BOX CAME UNEXPECTEDLY. And when I opened it, I saw this –
I’d seen the return address, so I pretty much knew who it was coming from: my dear Donna, teacher extraordinaire!
She had sent me her Petunia, a bird-sized bit of pert face and marvelous legs. Just out of nowhere, for no real reason. Petunia has presided over my dining room from her perch on the sideboard ever since.
And this dear little fox girl – her name is Faith, and I am reminded of her creator every time I think of it. She has family here and is much loved. She came from love.
And this – this was presented to me by a young man of great talent. He and his brother had made it with their mom, just for me. Lovely texture. Lovely color and movement. But these boys know the wild world in an intimate way so few children these days ever get a chance to do. I was so honored and delighted when they put this in my hands – which they did, I will always remember, on a very windy day.
This, I made for a bosom friend. I haven’t made very many gift quilts. I’m way too greedy to give them away. But I did make two of these flannel guys. One was for a friend of Gin and Cam’s who’d lost her mom to cancer in her last years of childhood. She asked me for a graduation quilt, and so I made her one. It was musical. This is not musical. It’s horsical, for a horse woman. The design is simple, and the top worked up quickly. The applique was simple and machine stitched. Warm flannel quilted over wool bat. I will always love mixed plaids.
Oh, and it’s catical too.
This quilt is part of a series. For some reason, for two years in a row, I insanely yielded to the impulse to make each of my four children a quilt for Christmas. The first year’s ones were denim, and I’ll put a picture of one of those up some time. The denim was harvested from decades’ worth of our old jeans, which made them fun.
This was the second year: flannel. After those first couple of flannel quilts I swore I’d never work with the stuff again, it’s so stretchy. But I did, and I have and I will, because they make for ease of cuddling. This block design also works up quickly – when you know how to cut and sew in strips, you cut your work time down immeasurably.
But the real charm of these quilts was the border quilting. I did it on my table top machine – and they were nap sized quilts – so it wasn’t impossible. But I did learn that you really, really have to keep your machine oiled if you expect the bobbin thread to actually catch the top thread when you are trying to finish up four quilts three days before Christmas.
Okay – having books published is cool. Addressing big audiences and making them laugh is cool. But here is possibly the most satisfying moment of my life: I waited, Christmas Eve, for those kids to fall asleep. It took forever. Then I snuck in and put these quilts across the foot of each bed. The quilting in the borders – it was all writing. I quilted in the private jokes, their signature phrases, pictures of the things they loved – it was a stitched-in portrait of each young life. And love. I stitched love.
When I woke up on Christmas morning, there they all were, dancing around my room with these quilts. I took a shower and got ready for the great Going Downstairs – when I came out of the dressing room, all my kids were sitting together in a pile on our bed, reading their quilts – with obvious relish. I just stood there and watched them, amazed – and I will never forget it. Not if I live an eternity. Which I will.
A quilt is kind of a big thing. It doesn’t take big things to produce moments like this. It only takes cherishing and speaking. You see them, and you let them know that you see them, and you love what you see. In a human lifetime, there are few enough times when someone communicates clearly how much you mean to them. Knowing that, I try to do it. I try to make sure it happens for the ones I love. Even with nothing but a tiny thing. A sandwich made to order – without my having to ask what to put on it. You can’t always get loved. But you can always always give it.
This is another of the pillow cases I made another Christmas. You’ve seen Gin’s lizard. I still have to chase down Cam’s wolf. And wait – Murphy had penguins. Did he? Am I remembering right? I’ve got to ask him. but this was Chaz’ fox.
They’re a little ratty now, from the washing. And as you can see this close in, I always applique with a tiny blanket stitch. I pulled the shapes off Google images, reduced photographed animals to line in photoshop, and that was my pattern. Except I made up the bunny.
I don’t know why I used to do this to myself – pushing myself into these Christmas projects. It made my life bedlam. But I don’t regret it. Now, I just do picture books and stuff. But it’s nice to have these things still around. Like breadcrumbs to follow, leading me back to times that are only memory now. Oh, I have come a varied journey. But well worth the taking. And well worth the giving.
