As a little girl I lived on a farm located in the
middle of the boonies with my aunt and uncle. My divorced mother didn’t drive
so she stayed with other relatives or friends for her job in the cotton mill.
That meant most of my childhood memories were based around my aunt. One of my
first memories is the quilting bees she held at the house.
I looked forward to the gathering of women from
other farms in the area and possibly another one or two of the aunts. The excitement
in getting ready for the event played heavily in my life. My aunt spending
hours at the sewing machine pedaling away to create the blocks for her quilt
had me at her elbow watching the colors come together. If I was lucky, she’d
cut small blocks for me and let me attempt to sew my own, usually with a needle and thread.
When the day arrived, my uncle had the frame set up, the food for lunch ready,
and the ladies started to arrive. It had been decided in advance who would
bring quilts to work on and they rotated since the gathering took place a
couple of times a year.
Instructed to stay out of the way while they readied
the frame, I’d watch intently as they pulled the flannel used for backing and
tied it in place. Next came the batting, rolls of cotton or fiber for the
filler, spread across the flannel. Lastly, the beautiful top was laid, a burst
of color that would make me gasp in delight. And the work began.
Seated around the frame their busy fingers pushed
and pulled needles in and out, creating a pattern design of choice. Sometimes I
played under the frame and on really lucky occasions, someone would have me sit
on their lap as they guided my small fingers to help with the actual
quilting. All the while, the ladies
talked, laughed and shared secrets or worries.
Today quilting has become an artwork craft. But
beautiful as they are, I wonder if there are still occasions when a quilt is
created by a group of friends sharing their lives?
What is one of your favorite childhood memories?
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