Christine W.

My first blanket was a purple flannel blanket with a satin ribbon along the top. I still have it. There are tatters of satin along the top, it is no longer rectangular but it is still cozy. Just looking at it you can see it was well loved. I do believe it started my love of texture. However, it does not hold as many memories as my first sewing project.

When I was 10, my mother started to teach me how to sew. My first real project was a simple block quilt, each block 10 inches square. I dug through my mother’s trunk full of remnant material that she had used to make clothes for my sister looking for pieces of fabric that were big enough. I remember cutting them out and my mother patiently showing me how to piece them together and sew a seam. I remember laying it out and layering it with the orange backing material and the batting. And I particularly remember fighting with the needle and orange yarn as I tied the corners - of wrestling to pull it through all the layers.

This quilt was my very first UFO. It was supposed to have head and arms to make it a big ‘doll’. I finished the quilt. I even embroidered the face but I never did get around to finishing the head and arms.

I loved that quilt. It was constantly around, the perfect comfort for long car trips, hanging out in they yard, snuggling on the couch, dragging over you in the middle of the night when you got cold. The seams have now given out beyond repair, yet I cannot get myself to get rid of it. The squares of fabric still hold memories of the dresses my mother made for us and the quilt itself, with it’s hideous ‘70s very orange polyester backing (which is the one thing that hasn’t given out), has its own store of memories and comfort given.