“Look,” I said, the beginnings of my new quilt laying on my studio floor, “if you want to be a tablecloth that’s fine with me. But if you want to be a quilt you’re going to have to help me out. You’re going to have to tell me what you want, what to do next.”
I wasn’t yelling although I was frustrated and my voice was firm and decisive.
I’d been circling around the “quilt”, pulling fabric off my shelves and tossing them aside when they didn’t work. I was ready to give up when I decided to just ask.
And I was a little surprised when it worked. My quilt answered me. I quickly saw that the two ends needed to be bordered with brown.
I sewed them on without hesitation then began working on the next step. That’s the old quilt top and polka dots to the right. The only part in question when I left my studio was the small strip of brown at the top.
But I’m not frustrated anymore. I think my new quilt and I understand each other now.
Feeling good about the piece I wrote today about the Orphaned Woods and the small but important progress I made on my quilt, Jon and I went out to dinner at The Bog. It’s one of two restaurants in town that serve dinner and we haven’t been this since the shutdown last year. I got a hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and a Ginger Citizen Cider.
It felt special like we had reclaimed something we’d lost.