I am guided by the seasons. I feel the changes and the durations physically in my body. I experience them emotionally. I try, but always fail to be as accepting of them as the trees, the animals and the flowers.
Warm autumn days can feel like the spring, the naked trees just budding instead of just having lost their leaves. Late autumn is always melancholy to me. More longing than sadness. An end, but not without hope.
And since I stopped trying to push the melancholy away with frantically focusing on the holidays, I’ve come to savor it. Like wrapping myself in a deep, warm, spicy, maroon cocoon.
Which is no doubt why I chose this batik print, called River Sunrise made by Carol Conklin this time of year to create my quilt around. And why I chose the name Autumn Comes that came from the same two-word comment that Ellen left on my blog when she saw the quilt.
The colors in the quilt reflect the intensity of the dying autumn leaves and flowers as well as the fading of color that is simultaneous.
And I remember after framing Carol’s batik with fabric how I clearly saw the reddish-orange “steps” leading up to it, like the steps of the ancient Mexican Pyramid of the Sun.
I used so many different types of fabric in this quilt, mimicking the textures in nature. Some fine and silky, printed and solid cottons, bulky and soft velvet, and corduroy and thick tapestry.