I don’t profess to be any good at it but I love to
quilt. My maternal grandmother, Lillie
Mae Addison taught me. She also taught
me how to make dolls from socks. Those lessons
came from simply watching her manipulate scraps of nothing into magnificent
works of art. Her craft grew from
necessity; mine from simply wanting to do what I saw my grandmother do.
And so I sometimes quilt.
Usually I only do so when I’m stressed.
Or bored. Or stressed and
bored. Or when something, or someone,
inspires my creative juices. I love
creating baby quilts so the birth of a new baby does my spirit good.
I’ve only done one king-sized quilt. It took forever and required some assistance
to manipulate. I burned out the original
motor on my old Singer sewing machine finishing that quilt. At the time it probably would have been
cheaper to buy a new sewing machine but I wasn’t ready to part with my old
Singer. It had been a gift from my
mother who insisted that a woman worth her salt needed to know how to sew and
cook. She insured that I could do both
before she sent me out into the world to make my own way.
Now my replacement motor doesn’t sound like it’s going to
last me much longer. I may not have a
choice but to send her to old sewing machine heaven and find her
replacement.
I have a dear friend who finishes her quilts by hand. Ms. Sharon Barrow amazes me with her
skills. So much so I don’t think I’ve ever
shared my love for quilting with her, only envying and admiring the beautiful work
she creates so effortlessly. I need a
machine to do what she does so easily with just a needle and some thread. Although, if the motor to my machine dies I
may have to test my skills and give quilting by hand another try.
Until then though, I think I’ll steal a sock from my guy and
make me a doll.
