Thirty-two years ago I made my first quilt.
It's a Log Cabin, arranged in the Barn Raising design. I don't remember where I got the pattern for it, but it was well before the time of rotary cutters and strip piecing.
The center is red, then it's orange, yellow, green, then blue, then green, then yellow and then orange in the corners. Many of the fabrics were a polyester/cotton mix, because that's what was available. Oranges were hard to come by, and purples were impossible. 100% cotton? Not in my area.
The logs were 1" wide finished. The quilt has a poly filling, was backed with a sheet and was tied.
Over the years the seams have come apart, the ties have disappeared and the colors faded. It looks awful.
But when I dug it out of its storage spot in the basement last week to show my son's girlfriend who is interested in making a Log Cabin Quilt, my son immediately lay claim to it.
He loves it, which serves as a reminder to all of us that it's often the emotional aspect of the quilt that is valued most by the people we love. They don't care if we ran out of one fabric, if the backing is pieced or if the seams don't line up. They could care less if the design is from a pattern, a book, a kit, or out of your head. They don't care if the fabric came from a quilt shop or from wal-mart.
It matters that it came from
your hands, and represents
your love.
As my son wrapped himself in this quilt, he inhaled deeply and said, "I love the way it smells. It's my
past."
My birthday is not until next week. But I think just got the best present I could ask for.
